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To say that the quinjet ride back to the compound was tense would have been an understatement. You could cut the tension with a knife. A butter knife. A spork, more like it.
As far as you were concerned, the mission had been a success, but judging by the look on Steve’s face, he thought differently. His jaw was set, and his gaze was fixed on a point directly in front of him, barely blinking, his knuckles taut and white as he gripped the straps at his shoulders. You were strapped in your preferred seat in the jet, and Steve was seated across from you, two seats over, sandwiched in between Nat and Bucky. Sam was piloting, and even he had the sense not to try and lighten the mood with his quick quips.
He was mad because of you. It wasn’t unusual, and it didn’t faze you. He was obstinate where you weren’t, and while you had gotten the intel you needed from the HYDRA base, you had defied the Captain’s orders to do so, and that was a no-no.
But ‘no’ had never really been one of your favorite words to begin with.
You popped your gum, a sound that pierced the strained silence louder than it should have, and Steve flinched. His focus shot over to you, and his usually clear cerulean eyes were dark and threatening as he stared you down. You met his gaze head-on and kept chewing, twirling the flash drive with the intel between your fingers for him to see.
The jet somehow made it back into the hangar without imploding, but as Steve made his first step off the jet, you turned to him and crossed your arms, ready for whatever hailstorm of fury he had for you this time.
“Come on, Cap. Let’s hear it,” you beckoned.
“Later,” he practically growled as he made his way past you.
“Might as well do it here,” you said, and you ignored the look Nat shot at you. “We got what we needed, didn’t we?”
And that was it for him. Steve whirled around, storming back towards you with gritted teeth.
“You’re reckless, and you’re dangerous, and I won’t fucking tolerate it anymore,” he spat out, his towering figure only a foot away from you. “You could have gotten someone killed! You left Bucky wide open!”
You scoffed, looking over at the highly trained assassin in question. “Your boyfriend was fine, I made sure of it. No one died, Steven,” you said firmly.
“Not today. But there is going to come a time when your hubris and ineptitude put someone in real danger, and I’m not gonna let that happen, do you understand me?” Steve’s tone was deep and sinister, his glare tinged with a carnal rage that would have had anyone shaking like a leaf, but you didn’t falter a bit.
“It’s done us good so far,” you said casually. “I don’t hear any other complaints,” you gestured to the rest of the team who were silently standing not too far off.
“You don’t get to bring them into this! You put their lives at risk, and for what? Why are you here if you aren’t going to act like you’re part of a fucking team?” Steve shouted.
You laughed bitterly. “I’ll break it down for you since that serum obviously did nothing for your brain,” you said. You took several deliberate steps toward him until your chest was almost touching his. “I’m here because no one died and made you king,” you began, your voice dripping with malice. “I’m here because even though you never admit it, I always get the job done, and I don’t need the attention or spangly outfit to do it. I’m here because, despite that pseudo title they gave you two days after hopping you up with super ‘roids, I’m better than you,” you snarled. You took another step closer and looked him right in the face. “When I run point, things are more efficient, they get done quicker, and there’s minimal damage. I’m better than you, and it kills you because I didn’t need help from a test tube. Tell me I’m wrong, Cap.” You let that last syllable punctuate the air, still thick with everything you just spilled into it.
He looked like he wanted to hit you. He really did. And you wanted him to. You wanted him to do it, and you would finally get to wipe the floor with that self-righteous, pompous face. Both your chests heaved up and down as you stared up at him, daring him to break form and ruin that perfect image of Captain-fucking-America.
“Why don’t you two just kiss already?” you heard Nat say. You knew it was her way of trying to defuse the situation, but your blood was still boiling.
You didn’t miss him crack, though. It was for a split second, but you didn’t miss the way his eyes darted to your lips, and you swore the edges of his features softened. As quickly as the moment came, it went, and he was glaring at you again with homicidal intensity.
“Don’t make me vomit before dinner, Nat,” you said without breaking eye contact with Steve. You shoved the flash drive into his chest, and he caught it as you walked away. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
“You’re benched, indefinitely,” Steve called after you.
You didn’t bother turning around. “I expected nothing less from you, Steven,” you said, flashing a peace sign as you exited the hangar.
Your heartbeat was still erratic as you reached your room. You paused before opening your door, looking down the hall at the only other door that shared this floor. His door. You didn’t know how you got so lucky, but you glared at the innocent piece of wood as if it would change your fortuity somehow. You pushed into your room, slamming the door shut harder than you needed to. You stripped off your gear and took a shower, a cold one since you still felt like burning down everything in sight.
You ran through the mission again and again in your head. You did leave Bucky wide open, but only after the two of you had downed all the hostiles in your part of the base. The control room had been right there, and Nat was still tied up with a few guards, so you took matters into your own hands. It had caused a bit of confusion, but the team was always quick on their feet. You never made a move without calculating the risk, and only if that risk involved you. But Steve would never see it that way. He refused to, no matter how civil you tried to be. Since you started with the team as a bright-eyed Rookie, recruited by Tony Stark himself, you and the beloved Captain never saw eye to eye. It was like he wanted to hate you from the beginning, this outsider that dared to infiltrate his domain. The others did their best to convince you that wasn’t the case, but you didn’t care. How Steve Rogers felt didn’t matter to you. All that mattered was that you knew you deserved to be there, and he could eat shit if he didn’t agree.
You would love to watch him eat shit.
Your teeth began to chatter under the frigid stream of water, and you got out of the shower, bundling yourself in the comfiest sweats you had before making your way to the common room. You hesitated at your door. You hadn’t heard his door open and shut, and there was no sign of him in the hallway. You rolled your eyes at yourself and continued on your way. To your relief, when you got there, boxes of pizza littered the table and you joined Nat and Bucky who had already started eating.
“Look, Barnes, I’m sorry,” you said after your first slice. “I shouldn’t have left you.” You didn’t consider this to be an admission of wrongdoing, just an extended courtesy to your teammate.
Bucky smirked at you. “It’s alright, I’m a big boy. I can handle myself.”
You snorted. “You should try telling that your friend. That cunt.”
“You kiss your mom with that mouth, Rookie?” Nat said, one corner of her mouth tugging upward as she took a sip of beer. “He used pretty strong language, but Steve wasn’t wrong…”
You sighed. Nat was always Steve’s advocate.
“I’m just saying,” she continued. “This whole thing between the two of you was cute at first, but you need to reel it in. What happened in that hangar was uncalled for. It can’t happen again,” she said firmly.
“Yes, mom,” you said, leaning over and planting a kiss on her cheek. She laughed and swatted you away.
“Rook, you know you’ve got nothing to prove, right? Everyone knows you belong here, even Steve. Don’t shoot yourself in the foot,” Nat said softly.
You suddenly found your slice of pizza really interesting. Nat had a way of getting down to the core of things, and you still weren’t used to it.
“He’s still a cunt,” you muttered, taking a bite. Even Bucky chuckled a little at that.
You stayed with them a bit, talking, laughing, and eating a few more slices before heading back to your room. You pressed the call button for the elevator, and when the doors slid open, there he was. He was still in his gear, still had soot and traces of blood (not his own) on his face. You wondered briefly what he had been doing all this time. He didn’t look up at you as you stepped in, didn’t say a word as the doors slid closed and caged the both of you into a space that was both too small and too large to contain everything swirling between you. Your breathing grew heavy again, but your anger was long gone. There was an ache to say something to him, anything, but you resisted the urge. You didn’t owe him anything.
The elevator finally dinged at your shared floor. There was a beat before either of you made a move, a lifetime of indecision stuffed into that one moment.
“Goodnight, Y/N,” Steve muttered before making his way out and toward his end of the hall. Of course he had to be cordial, it was part of his DNA, serum or not. You were still a member of his team, no matter what. How infuriating.
As you reached your door, you heard his shut with a slight echo that bounced off the walls. You suddenly felt so tired, like you couldn’t keep your body upright for another second. You got it and burrowed under your covers, grateful for the warmth and security.
You thought about the way he looked at your lips in the hangar. You didn’t know why, you just couldn’t get it out of your head. That small, inconsequential second, but it felt like a lead weight on your mind. Maybe it was because of the way your eyes had been on their way to his lips, but he beat you to it. There was a canyon between the two of you, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to build a bridge or jump.
“Goodnight, Steve,” you whispered to no one but yourself, just to feel his name against your pillow.
________________
It was the following week that all hell broke loose.
You had been languishing in your room while the rest of the team followed another lead to a potential HYDRA base in Torun, when you had gotten an alert about a man down. You rushed down to the med bay just before the flurry of agents and doctors burst through the doors. None of them took note of you as they shouted and cursed, pushing someone you couldn’t see on a gurney into one of the trauma rooms. That’s when Nat, Sam, and Bucky burst in, equally haunted and haggard looks on their faces, their gear in worse shape than it had been on your last mission.
“Where’d they take him? In there?” Bucky asked frantically. You weren’t sure who he was talking to, but he marched ahead without an answer toward the room the crowd had disappeared into.
So it was Steve. He was the man down.
Nat grabbed his arm. “Barnes, let them do their job,” she urged him. Bucky looked at her, then the room, then back again before running both hands through his hair and letting out a sharp breath,
“Nat. What the fuck was that?” he asked breathlessly. He looked completely dazed, like he had seen a ghost.
She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I have no clue. Something experimental, who knows how long they’ve had that up their sleeve.”
Sam shook his head. “It was like they knew we’d be there,” he said in a far off tone, and you could practically see the gear turning in his head.
They looked lost, and you couldn’t blame them. Out of all of you, Steve was always the one that seemed to escape any situation with barely a scratch. Even when it was more serious, he was up and about in no time. But this time felt different. You had never seen such chaos surrounding the Captain, and dread began to make its way from the bottom of your stomach upwards.
“Follow me,” you told them, and they only just registered that you were there. You knew the med bay well enough; Helen was actually a riot to hang out with, especially when she had a couple of drinks in her. You led them through another trauma room into another hallway that had a large window looking into the room they had carted Steve into. You still couldn’t see him through the mess of people around him.
“What happened?” you asked, but the rest of the team stood frozen, looking into the room like there was already a funeral taking place.
“He got hit with something,” Bucky answered after a while. “Some sort of blast. I got to him too late. He was screaming, convulsing, and then he was…” he trailed off, but you didn’t have to wait for him to finish.
The crowd parted a bit, and you saw him. It could have been a kid on the table by the looks of it, but it was him. You were reminded of the exhibit at the Smithsonian, the part that showed the before and after photos of Steve pre-and post-serum. You were looking at the before, in real time, a Steve that no one in this lifetime knew, save for Bucky.
You could only stare, watch as his thin pale body laid there being hooked up to various machines, prodded by various needles and devices. You watched and let something hard and cold close over you, shutting out whatever the rest of them were feeling, whatever you should have been feeling.
“What happened?” you asked again. You knew what you wanted to hear.
Sam looked at you, really looked at you for the first time since arriving at the med bay. He sighed. “We needed more manpower,” he admitted.
You only nodded before turning and heading out, ignoring Nat’s calls for you to come back. It wasn’t your problem. He benched you. That was his problem, and whatever happened today was his problem.
Your hands were clean.
_________________
Three weeks went by before you actually saw him in front of you. Until then, you only heard about what happened through Nat, or someone else. The blast that HYDRA had hit Steve with somehow neutralized the serum in his DNA. It made him regress back to his pre-serum state, along with all the health issues he had dealt with before. Modern medicine was kinder to him than it was in the 40s, but the issues were still…issues.
You hadn’t seen any glimpse of him in your shared hallway. You knew that at some point in recent days he had moved from the med bay back to his room because you saw Bucky coming and going a few times. You stayed your distance though, more comfortable with the cavernous space that separated you from him.
That is, until you got up for a midnight snack and he was there. The best snacks were in the shared kitchen, and your own personal stash was dwindling. You got there and he was rummaging around the in the fridge. He didn’t notice you until he shut the door, and he jumped at the sight of you. Or maybe it was more of a wince. Both of you silently stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. He was just about as tall as you now, maybe a half-inch shorter. It was weird not having to tilt your head back a little to look at his face. His hair was still the same shade of blond, though it looked more disheveled than you were used to seeing. He looked paler, a notch away from translucent. His jaw wasn’t as square and prominent, his shoulders not as wide and slightly hunched. It was like one of your history textbooks had come to life.
“Sorry,” you said finally, before brushing past him to get to the cupboard. You could feel him watching you as you filed through the array of snacks until you turned back around with a good pile in your hands. He stared right at you, water bottle in hand.
“Go ahead. Laugh,” he said, his face straining to be expressionless, but you could see the emotions brewing under his skin.
You didn’t say a word as you opened up a bag of pretzels and placed one in your mouth.
“I know you want to, so just do it,” he urged again, a bit of pink coloring his neck and the tips of his ears.
“I only laugh when something’s funny, Rogers,” you said after you swallowed. You put another pretzel in your mouth.
His chest started to rise and fall a little quicker, and you heard a faint wheezing sound. “You must be so happy right now. Just say it, Rookie. Fucking say it!” His face was tinged with red, and you were mildly concerned that he would pop a blood vessel in front of you.
You let out a small huff of air and a grin curled around your lips. “Now I’m laughing at you because you’re throwing a tantrum. You know, just because you look twelve, doesn’t mean you should act like it.”
The wheezing sound grew worse, and you wished you hadn’t said that. He stormed away from you, around the corner and out into the hall. After a moment, you heard a thud, and you rushed to find him splayed on the ground, his water bottle rolling away slowly. You figured he tripped on his pant leg, both of which were a tad too long for his frame. You moved to help him up, but he flinched away from you.
“Just go,” he said forcefully. You didn’t move, and he snapped. “GO!”
So you did. You turned and took the stairs to your floor and dropped down on your couch with all your snacks. You opened a package of mini Oreos, but you couldn’t taste them. You reached for that cold and hard barrier that had closed you off before, but it wasn’t there. You listened carefully, almost holding your breath, and you flinched when you heard his door slam. Part of you wanted to go knock, to make sure he was okay, but you kept yourself rooted on your couch. You put away your building materials, the planks of wood and rope that you had envisioned before, and you stood at the edge of your precipice, just barely making out his form at the other edge.
_____________
The next time you saw him, he was unconscious and bleeding from a wound on his head. You had walked into the gym early in the morning, before the sun came out, and you found his crumpled body at the foot of one of the treadmills, its belt still running.
“Shit, Steve? Steve, can you hear me?” you said as you knelt next to him, placing two fingers against his neck. You found a steady pulse, but you were surprised to find yourself trembling and shivering. “Friday, call down to the med bay,” you choked out, and your voice was as unsteady as your hands.
It didn’t take long for a couple of orderlies to come bursting into the gym with a stretcher. You watched as they loaded him onto it and left again. You stood there, frozen, unsure if you should follow or stay where you were. You took a few shuddering breaths and asked Friday to notify Bucky of Steve’s condition. You glanced at the treadmill that was still going, its mechanical whir humming in your ear. You went over and powered it down, and that’s when you decided you didn’t have the stomach to workout anymore. Instead, you went back to your room and put on a few episodes of Friends, trying to erase the image of his bloodied face out of your mind.
Later in the day, Bucky came to your door. He looked tired and exasperated, which added a few years to his features. “Thank you for finding him, and calling the med bay,” he said to you.
You shrugged. “No problem…how is he?”
Bucky sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “He’s fine. A mild concussion, but he’s fine.” His shoulders deflated. “He tried to run, like before, but he pushed himself too hard and he passed out.”
You nodded but didn’t say anything.
“He’s having a tough time with this. Cho says that it might be temporary, but there’s no way of knowing how or when it can be reversed. Or, re-reversed?” he frowned and shook his head slightly.
You didn’t know how to respond to that, so you just nodded again.
Bucky looked like he wanted to say more, but he decided against it, thanking you again and leaving for the med bay. It must be hard for him, too, you thought. You had heard a few stories about Bucky and Steve’s childhood, and you couldn’t imagine it was all that pleasant reliving those worry-laden nights, the bouts of pneumonia and asthma attacks.
You brushed those thoughts aside, or tried to, and watched for the thousandth time as Rachel and Ross broke up while the rest of the gang were silently suffering in the next room. A while later, against everything in you, you snuck down to the med bay. You managed to avoid being questioned by anyone as you slipped in and swiped one of the tablets from the front desk. You found the room number you were looking for, and you slowed your steps, crouching down low so that you wouldn’t be seen through the small, rectangular window on the door. Slowly, so slowly, you lifted yourself just enough to peek over the edge of the window.
Bucky was there, sitting in a chair by his bedside. His eyebrows were knitted together, his hand running through his hair, his lips rapidly moving. It almost looked like he was bargaining, pleading. You let your eyes travel over to Steve. You could only see his profile as he spoke to Bucky, and you could tell he was just as stressed. You saw him wince and lie back against his pillow, and you saw fully just how miserable he was. You searched for any sense of retribution within you, any hint of mirth at the sight of his pain, but you couldn’t find any. Instead, there was that ache again, the one that told you to grasp the knob and push the door open, sit on the edge of his bed and maybe say something that would make up for the last thing you said to him.
“You should go in there.”
The voice caught you off guard, partly because the hall had been empty when you arrived, and partly because it vocalized what you were just thinking to yourself. Your foot slipped, and you caught yourself against the door with a loud thud. You got up and turned to find Nat staring at you, her arms crossed and one of her perfectly trimmed eyebrows raised slightly. You were about to say something when, to your horror, the door to Steve’s room opened.
Bucky looked at the two of you and blinked. “Hey guys,” he said haltingly. “Do you wanna—Steve, do you mind if they come in?”
You dragged your gaze over to the man on the bed. He was looking at you intently, almost warily, like you were a snake and he was trying to figure out if you were poisonous or not. You stared back for a moment longer than you should have before turning and making your back down the hall and out of the med bay.
You got to your room and put on The Office, watching for the thousandth time as Kevin dropped his famous chili.
______________
A few days later, there was a knock at your door.
You already knew who it was. The rest of the team had left a couple of hours ago to have some sort of fun night out in the city. Nat and Sam convinced Bucky to join them, but they were unsuccessful when it came to you, and you knew for sure that Steve wouldn’t step foot off of the compound. There had been an argument with Tony, you knew that much. He argued that they should put out a press statement, get ahead of any possible leaks, but Steve was adamant against it. It was going on two months since the incident, and things were tipping more on the side of his condition being permanent, but they were still holding onto hope.
You paused The Notebook and opened your door to find him standing there in a plain white T-shirt and khaki pants. And suspenders. He’s really milking this whole 40s look, you thought to yourself.
“Hi,” he said after a moment. It still felt really weird being at eye-level with him. You felt exposed, like he could somehow see more of you now.
“Hi,” you said back.
Silence.
He took a sharp breath. “I just wanted to say thank you, for what you did the other day,” he said tightly. He brushed some hair out of his face, something you never really saw him do before the whole incident. “It was stupid of me to even try—anyway. Thanks.”
“No problem. I’ve personally always thought treadmills were death traps, so…” You wanted to bang your head against the wall for even attempting humor, but when you looked at him there was a whisper of a grin on his lips.
“Okay, well. Have a good night, Rookie.”
“You too, Steve.”
He gave you a short nod and made his way back down the hall. You closed your door, but you stood there for longer than you would have liked to admit. You went back to the couch to try and watch the movie again, but you couldn’t pay attention. Something in you clicked, and you got up, your feet taking you down the hall on autopilot. You knocked.
He raised his eyebrows at you when he opened his door, and you couldn’t blame him. You had no clue why you were there, you hadn’t even considered what you were going to say.
“Um, I—uh, do you want Sour Patch Kids?” you stammered out. You took the half-eaten package out of the pouch of your sweatshirt and held it out to him. Nice. Perfect. Not dumb at all.
He looked at it, then at you, then back. To your everlasting relief, he reached out and took it from you. “Sure. Thanks.”
“Yup. Well. Have a good night, again,” you said, and you abruptly turned back to where you came from. You flopped down on your couch and squeezed your eyes shut. Was it possible to feel secondhand embarrassment for yourself? You just stared up at the paused screen, at Rachel McAdams’ frozen, gleeful expression and you willed the floor to swallow you up. You jumped about ten feet into the air when you heard another knock.
“Hey,” he said when you opened the door. He rubbed the back of his neck and you shuffled nervously. The floor was letting you down spectacularly. “So…I kind of didn’t want to leave off on that whole Sour Patch Kids thing. That was fucking weird, Rookie.”
You laughed, enough for your eyes to start watering, and when you composed yourself you noticed his face looked a lot brighter than you had seen since his transformation. In fact, in the entire two years you had known him, his face never looked like that when it came to you. You ignored the stirring in your chest and stepped aside to let him in. You watched as he took in your space, his eyes roaming all you owned, and you realized that this was the first time he had ever been in your room. You suddenly wished you had straightened it up a bit.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” you asked him as you sat back down in front of the screen. He joined you, sitting at the opposite end of the couch, leaving a wide open plane of upholstery between the two of you.
“What are you watching?” he asked, digging into those damn Sour Patch Kids.
“The Notebook.”
“I think I’ve heard Nat mention it before,” he said, grimacing at the sourness of the candy.
“We watch it together at least once every month,” you admitted, unpausing the screen. You felt him looking at you from your periphery.
“I didn’t know that,” he noted, and there was something in his tone you couldn’t quite place.
“Well, now you do,” you said quietly.
The two of you descended into silence as the movie ran across the screen. You were watching it, but half of your attention was on the presence of the man next to you. Outside of missions and briefings, this was the longest amount of time you had ever spent together, and it was throwing you off-kilter. After a few more minutes, he spoke up.
"Why didn't you go out with the others?" he asked. The question startled you, but you managed to keep a neutral expression.
"I wasn't in a very 'out' mood," you replied simply.
"Hmm."
You looked over at him. "What?"
"I didn't say anything."
"You made a noise."
"So?"
You paused the television again and positioned yourself to face him. "Say what you need to say." He gave you a look. "Go on."
He sighed. "Nothing, it's just that you're never in an 'out' mood. You hole yourself in here day in and day out." He said it in a way that suggested this wasn’t the first time he pondered over this. Over you.
You rolled your eyes. "Is there anything about me that you won't criticize, Cap?"
"Jesus, I'm not criticizing you," he said exasperatedly. "I'm just pointing something out. There have to be other things you like to do."
"I like saving the world, but I've been benched, remember?"
"Still?" and he sounded genuinely surprised.
"You said indefinitely, Cap," you deadpanned.
"I don't know if you’ve noticed, but I'm not Cap anymore," he said, gesturing to himself. There was a strain to his voice that had your chest stirring again.
You narrowed your eyes at him. "Your name is still Steve Rogers, isn't it?"
"Yes," he answered warily.
"That’s what I thought. You’re Captain America. You should try to brush up on your World War II history"
He let out a long huff of air. "Do I look like a captain to you?" he asked softly. He looked away from you, as if he were afraid of your answer. You studied his profile, the slope of his nose, the curve of his ear, the bend of his chin. Were his eyelashes always that long?
You cleared your throat. "Well, the only other Captain I'm acquainted with is Crunch, and I think you're better off than him. That mustache is harrowing."
He chuckled a little and your heart gave a little hop. You smiled at him, you couldn't help it. He looked back at you, and something like gratefulness was swimming in his eyes. You faced the screen again and pressed play, letting the movie fill in the silence once more. It wasn’t much later that you were hoping to be consumed by the floor again. You wished you had chosen a different movie because you failed to consider just how romantic things would get. With Nat it was fine, but as the two main characters fumbled their way into the bedroom onscreen with Steve next to you, you felt like you were watching the scene with a parent or the pope. You weren't sure if you should just play it cool or fast forward or die, so you just sat there, keeping your eyes trained on the love making and trying not to seem so awkward. If he was bothered at all, he didn’t show it (not that you would dare to check anyway) and in no time the credits were rolling.
“So…?” you prompted.
He grinned. “It was a nice film. Surprisingly accurate to the time period, but they did get a few things wrong.”
You grinned back and you were about to suggest another movie when someone knocked at your door. You were popular tonight. You opened it to see a concerned looking Bucky staring back at you.
“Hey, have you seen Steve?” he asked with a frown. “I know you two don’t really get along, but he’s not--”
He stopped short as you opened your door wider to reveal Steve sitting on your couch. You almost laughed at the confusion on his face.
“Hey Buck,” Steve said with a small wave.
“Hey,” Bucky said carefully.
“How was the bar?” you asked. You glanced over at Steve and the two of you shared an amused look.
“It was good. The food was crap though, so we brought back Chinese. Well, Nat and I did, Sam was brought back to someone else’s place,” Bucky reported, and you laughed. “Did you two have fun while we were gone?” he asked, a smirk dancing on his lips.
You shrugged, not trusting yourself to verbally respond to that.
“Yeah, we did,” Steve answered, and you did your best to ignore the flutter you felt near your navel.
“Feel free to join us when you’re ready, there’s plenty of dumplings to go around,” Bucky said. “And don’t forget to take you meds,” he directed at Steve.
Steve rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I will. Get out of here, Buck.”
Bucky got in one last sly look before leaving. You turned to Steve, raising your eyebrows expectantly. “Ready to eat?”
“I dunno, I’m pretty full from all those Sour Patch Kids,” he smirked, holding up the empty package. You gave him your best glare, but all he did was laugh.
That’s a sound I could stand to hear more often, you thought fleetingly.
_______________
“I thought you hated me.”
He was the one to bring it up. It was gradual and awkward at first, but in the few weeks following that night with the Sour Patch Kids, Steve was becoming your recluse buddy. He had a spot on your couch now, and a couple of times a week the two of you would watch something together. Now, you were both wrapped in blankets on your couch watching Mean Girls.
You pressed your lips together. “Hate is a strong word.”
“You strongly disliked me, then. Very strongly,” he corrected himself.
“I could say the same about you,” you replied, giving him a cursory glance.
He hesitated for a moment, adjusting the blankets around him. He got cold a lot easier these days, so you always made sure your room was a few degrees above toasty. “I never disliked you, Rookie.”
You scoffed. “Bullshit. You hated me from the moment we met.”
“Hate is a strong word.”
“Sure.”
He sighed. “I was hard on you because you’re right. You are good at this, arguably the best, but you’re arrogant and stubborn and you don’t know when enough is enough. You remind me of myself in that way, but I know you can be even better if you focus on the right things,” he said firmly.
You frowned. That wasn’t something you ever thought you would hear come out of Steve Rogers’ mouth, and your brain was having a hard time keeping up. “I’ve never taken a risk that put someone else in more danger than myself,” you protested, for lack of anything better to say.
“That’s the thing, Rook. You’re part of a team. That means you don’t have to take those risks alone. That's why we calculate and plan and execute accordingly,” he said earnestly.
“Someone has to do the dirty work,” you shrugged, but you felt your line of defense faltering.
He groaned and looked up to the ceiling. “That’s not your call to make Rook. I always got on you because when things go wrong, it’s on me. If anything happens to any one of you, it’s on me. Was on me.”
“Sorry to have been such a liability, Cap,” you said sarcastically.
“You don’t get it,” he sighed. He looked at you, and there was an intensity in his eyes that made your breathing stutter a bit. “You’re not just someone who needs to ‘get the job done.’ You’re a member of this team, this family. Is it so hard to believe that the rest of us care about you and want you to be safe?”
You could only stare at him. When you had joined the team, you had gotten along with (almost) everyone just fine, but you never shook off the feeling that you were an outsider. The rest of the team had history with each other, intertwining lives and connections that went deeper than any mission could. Because of that, you did your best to prove your worth through the work you did, what you could accomplish for the rest of them. It was what you were used to, even before the team. You had gotten through life clawing and grasping for things you needed by giving up pieces of yourself and picking up any scraps life had to offer you. You had resigned yourself to the fact that there would never be a place where you truly belonged. You convinced yourself that family and warmth and love weren’t in the cards for you, and here was Steve Rogers, telling you that you had been wrong this whole time.
You took in a slow, deep breath and turned back to the television. “I get it. I’ll work on it.”
“Thank you,” he said, and you had to bite your lip at the relief in his voice.
“Does this mean I’m not benched anymore?” you ventured.
“I’ll put a word in with Nat,” he said. You could hear the smile in his tone, but you didn’t turn to see it. You were pretty sure it would have you falling apart, and you couldn’t have that. Then again, you were pretty sure he’d be able to pick up the pieces.
You readjusted yourself and your blankets on the couch, pressing your back against the armrest and extending your legs out in the space between you and Steve. If you stretched your foot enough, your toes could have rested on his thigh, but you refrained. You didn’t know if you could cross that empty margin, a sliver of the expanse that had been there before, but still unknown and foreign to you. But it was nice to know he was only a toe’s length away.
______________
Getting shot was not as fun as you expected.
Honestly, you were surprised it hadn’t happened sooner considering your track record with missions and (not) following the rules. It was your first mission after being recommissioned (arms dealers in the south of France) and one of the bad guys got in a lucky shot. The bullet went through your shoulder through and through, thankfully missing anything important, but that didn’t keep it from hurting like hell. Dr. Cho and the cradle took care of the gaping hole, but you were still in the med bay for observation and pain management.
It was strange having the rest of the team fussing over you. Sam had bent himself backward trying to make you laugh, Bucky kept apologizing even though it wasn’t nearly his fault, and Nat had made you hot cocoa and brought down your favorite quilted blanket. It was a nice strange, but you were a little relieved when they finally left. All of them except Steve. He was sitting in the chair next to your heart rate monitor, and despite having on a sweater and a cardigan, he was visibly shivering. Helen liked to keep the med bay a few degrees on the colder side; apparently, it kept everyone alert and ready. He tried to deny being cold, but the tip of his nose was a light shade of pink, and you were sure it would take very little for him to become hypothermic.
You sighed. “Come over here, Rogers. I can’t keep watching you like that,” you ordered, shifting yourself to make room for him on the bed.
“I’m fine, really,” he said, and even his voice sounded frigid.
“Get your anemic ass under the covers. Now.”
He glared at you, but he got up and did as he was told. He hesitated when he reached the edge of the bed, but he dismissed whatever thoughts he had and slipped in next to you.
You hissed. “Gosh, you’re freezing,” you complained, but you scooted a little closer to him to share your body heat.
“Sorry,” he murmured, pulling the blankets up to his chin.
You laid there in silence, both of you staring up at the ceiling. You liked those moments with him, when the two of you could just exist in the same proximity without pressure to add something to it. You appreciated those un-silent moments too, when you’d launch into silly debates, or random musings. He was easy to talk to, and even better to listen to. You were finally seeing the Steve Rogers that everyone else had always adored and admired, and it was almost a shame it had taken you so long.
It was closing in on four months since the incident, and you could tell he was resigning himself to his transformation. Helen and Tony argued almost daily about formulas and options that wouldn’t jeopardize his life. They even brought in Shuri at this point, but it didn’t seem like they were any closer to a fix. He was still an active part of the team, though; he sat in on all the briefings, still strategized and gave orders, but you could see the dejection on his face when he remembered he couldn’t go out there with the rest of you. Part of you felt bad, sympathized with him, but the selfish part of you enjoyed it. There was more time to be had with him, more quiet moments, more moments where you revealed pieces of yourself to him that had never seen the light of day before and where he shared things with you that had laid dormant for nearly a century, things Bucky didn’t even know.
“I wasn’t being reckless, by the way,” you informed him, breaking the silence. “I followed the plan exactly.”
“Good job, Rookie. I’m proud.”
“I still got shot, asshole.” He laughed and you couldn’t help but join him. You don’t know what suddenly possessed you, but you grabbed one of his hands and guided it to your newly minted shoulder, slipping it under the fabric of your medical gown and onto your skin. “Can you really not tell the difference?” you asked him. You had always been wary of Helen’s claims.
He frowned in concentration as his hand glided lightly over the phantom wound. That’s when you truly noticed how close he was. Your breath hitched, and that seemed to make him notice, too. He looked up at your eyes, and you marveled at his, taking in the swirling shades of azure and hints of emerald green in his irises. You could feel his breath on your cheek, and you weren’t sure if the headiness you felt was because of the pain meds or him. His hand slowed to a stop, but he kept it resting on your shoulder.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he whispered. His eyes traveled down to your lips, and this time they lingered there for a long moment before he looked up again.
You gave the tiniest of shrugs, not wanting to disturb his hand. “You’re here now,” you whispered back. Several thoughts clambered through your mind, but they were all halted at the sound of the door opening. Steve yanked his hand away from you and stumbled out of the bed, but Sam had already seen it all.
“You two look comfy,” Sam said with a sly grin, carrying a mug full of what you could only guess was more of Nat’s hot cocoa. “I would ask how you’re doing Rook, but it looks like you’re doing just fine.”
You could feel your cheeks burning but you managed to give Sam a deadly glare. “Shut up, Wilson.” You chanced a glance at Steve, and while his face was colored with embarrassment, he was grinning over at you, his eyes bright and inviting.
Your heart rate monitor’s incessant beeping picked up speed, which only made Sam laugh harder.
_____________
“Why aren’t you watching the film?”
In a twist of scenery, you were in Steve’s room, on his couch, watching Mulan on his television. You were on your back with your head in his lap, and you had spent the first ten minutes of the movie just looking up at him. Personal space hadn’t really been a thing with the two of you since your shoulder officially healed. Movies came with snacks and cuddles now, and you weren’t complaining. Neither was he.
“You’ve never watched this before, I wanna see how you like it,” you told him.
He hummed amusingly. “I can always just tell you how I like it,” he offered.
“Not as fun,” you insisted.
He grinned down at you and shook his head, placing a hand in your hair and making soft strokes from your scalp to the ends. It sent happy shivers down your spine.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” you murmured up at him.
“Because I like looking at you,” he replied. You tried to fight your own smile but you lost.
“You’re supposed to be watching the movie, Cap.”
“So are you, Rook.”
“Touché.”
You stayed that way for a while, just looking at each other while Li Shang tried to make men out of his band of misfits in the background. At some point, the air around you shifted, and you had an end goal that you needed to reach. You got up slowly and faced him, your knees tucked under you. Your breathing grew heavy, and so did his as you reached out and placed your hand on his cheek, letting your thumb trace his jaw. You leaned forward, achingly slow, giving him enough time to protest or push you away, but he didn’t, and when your lips touched his, something ignited in you that had goosebumps dotting your skin. It was light and innocent at first, just the two of you exploring, getting used to the feeling, but it grew deeper and heated. He grasped at your waist and you climbed onto his lap, plunging both hands into his hair. He sucked on your bottom lip, and something between a moan and a whimper escaped your lips. He took that to his advantage, placing a hand at the back of your neck to find purchase as he deepened the kiss even further, sweeping his tongue around your mouth with skill that made your toes curl. Much too soon, he pulled away, and just as you were about to complain, he pulled his inhaler out of his pocket and took a pump.
You bit your already swollen lip to suppress your laugh at that adorable sight and rested your forehead against his as you both caught your breath.
“Was that okay? For you?” he asked, still a little breathless, and you nodded. He cleared his throat before sheepishly adding, “Not many dames—women—wanted to do that with me back then. When I looked like this before.”
You shrugged. “Doesn’t surprise me. The forties were full of idiots, just look at Barnes.”
He laughed and let his hands trace your thighs. “There was this one girl, who we went to school with, but her family moved away before anything could happen.”
“Good, she’s probably dead by now.”
“Rookie,” he said incredulously.
“What? I’m just trying to weed out the competition,” you said, lifting your head to see the smile on his face. “Who else?”
“Well, then there was Peggy…”
“Hmm. Not dead, but really, really old. Unless you’re into that,” you said, and he just laughed and shook his head. “I would like to point out that between the two of us, I’m the only one with a fully functioning vagina. That should give me a leg up.”
An adorable flush colored his cheeks at that. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good. Now,” you said, your fingers dancing in his hair, “are you okay? Because I would like to do that again. If that’s okay with you.”
He nodded slowly, his own fingers dancing at the hem of your shirt. “More than okay with me.”
So movies came with snacks, cuddles, and kisses now. You would press play, but it would soon dissolve into touches, and tongues, and heavy breathing. You didn’t push him, even though you ached for more. Whenever things got too serious, he would pull back and you didn’t protest. You didn’t think about it too much. You knew you would somehow convince yourself he didn’t want you, and you just wanted to savor his closeness, as much of it as he would give you. But there did come a night when the two of you teetered on the edge of no return, with your back against your couch, and you could feel his want straining against the fabric of his pants and your own need pulsating between your thighs.
“Steve, please,” you pleaded, your hands grasping at his arms.
He hesitated, and you could see the internal war playing out behind his pupils. “I don’t—I’ve never—I don’t think I can…satisfy you. Like this,” he admitted, and your heart broke and filled again at the real concern on his face.
You dragged your teeth over your bottom lip. “You already do. I just want to feel more of you.” You meant for it to sound sultry and seductive, but it came out broken, soft, and sweet.
And it was just that, broken, soft, and sweet. He wasn’t your first; there was a spattering of names and faces you could remember, rushed and heated and convenient, but it was different with him. You were both a little broken. You had both been through so much, more than most could bear, and you found solace in the slow and sweet rhythm of your bodies melding together. He kissed you and caressed you and whispered sweet things to you, things you wouldn’t have believed unless they came from his lips. You felt yourself unraveling, every barrier and every wall keeping you from him finally tumbling down, and you knew you were his and he was yours, your Steve, and you cursed yourself for wasting so much time before pretending like you didn’t care.
He fell asleep not long after, and you just watched him breathe, the rise and fall of his chest, the wonderfully peaceful look on his sleeping face. He was beautiful and more than enough, and you desperately wanted him to know it. You would spend your last breath making sure he knew it.
“Y/N, you better be getting ready in there!” you heard Nat’s voice cry out from the other side of your door. She banged on it, and you cursed, carefully leaving the bed and wrapping one of your blankets around you, and hurrying to the door before she knocked again.
“Oh, come on, you said you would come with me and Maria this time,” she exclaimed when you opened the door and saw you weren’t ready to go out. You shushed her and stepped out into the hall, carefully closing the door behind you.
“I need to put in a rain check, I’m sorry,” you offered. You had forgotten about the night out you had agreed to last week. Nat was about to chastise you some more, but she took in the blanket you were wrapped in, your tousled hair, and the decidedly unapologetic look on your face and connected the dots.
“I see,” she said with a smirk. “You got the party started already.”
You rolled your eyes but denied nothing.
“Make sure Steve takes his meds,” was all she said before turning and heading back to the elevator.
“I will,” you called after her.
“This means you’re buying the drinks next time.”
“Roger that.”
Her laugh echoed in the hallway. “Fuck you, Rookie.”
__________
He insisted on taking you out. By out, he meant down by the water, where the compound overlooked the Hudson for a picnic. He had the checkered blanket and basket ready too, the whole nine.
“I’m taking you out on a real date,” he told you a few days before.
“We’ve been on dates,” you had insisted. “Remember when we watched a movie in the common room?” But he was having none of it.
That’s how you found yourself in a yellow sundress, walking into the kitchen to ask Nat if you could borrow a pair of her earrings. Bucky was there too, and he let out a low whistle when he saw you.
“Geez, Rook, you’re breaking my heart,” he said, holding a hand to his chest. “You sure you’re gonna let Steve keep you all to himself?”
“Shut up, Barnes,” you said with a shy grin. You were out of your element in a dress, but you had decided if this was a real date, you needed to look like it.
“You look beautiful,” Nat said sincerely, adjusting a few strands of your hair. She got the earrings for you, and Bucky insisted on escorting you on his arm to where Steve waited. The day was balmy and breezy, the trees in full bloom now and the sky almost cloudless. It was like a dream, something you couldn’t quite believe, and when Steve looked at you, you swayed a little on your feet at the look in his eyes.
“You’re a lucky, lucky man Steve,” Bucky said with a wink.
“I know,” he replied, not taking his gaze off you.
You ate, and laughed, and kissed well into the late afternoon. The sun was just beginning to shift downward, and at his behest, you laid on your side like ‘one of his French girls’ and let him sketch you against the pristine landscape.
“Don’t move,” he urged you for the umpteenth time.
“Well, hurry up,” you said, struggling to maintain your pose. “I want your tongue down my throat.” He flushed and you smiled triumphantly. You loved making him squirm. He finished drawing and you settled your head on his lap, looking up at the sky. Not even that could compete with the color of his eyes.
“Y/N,” you both heard, and you got up to see Sam standing not too far off. He had a serious look on his face, one tinged with regret for having to break up the scene in front of him. “The op’s been pushed up. You need to be ready soon.”
A pit opened up in your stomach. He was talking about the undercover operation you had agreed to last month. You weren’t supposed to leave for another few days, but you supposed there was an emergency. It would last no less than twelve weeks, minimal contact, and you could feel the dread growing and spreading through you. Your expression hardened and you lowered yourself back into Steve’s lap defiantly.
“Rookie,” Steve said softly. “You need to go.” You said nothing. “They need you,” he tried again.
You shrugged. “People can’t always get what they want.”
He chuckled softly. “Come on, go. That’s an order.”
You sighed deeply and sat up, leaning on your arm and staring into his face, the face you had spent so much time memorizing, caressing, and loving. It all seemed even more unreal to you, these last few months with him. You were sure the other shoe was going to drop, and you wanted to hold onto this moment, to him, for as long as you could. You kissed him, not caring that Sam was there, and you breathed him in and he drew you in close, your heartbeats mingling against your chest.
You tore yourself away from him and wordlessly followed Sam back into the compound. You didn’t look back at Steve. You didn’t think you could handle the look on his face as you walked away. Or worse yet, you weren’t sure that he’d be looking at all.
___________
Bucky rushed out of the elevator and ran down the hall, crashing into Steve’s door. He almost knocked it off its hinges as he frantically scanned his friend’s room. He heard the screams coming from the bathroom, and almost tore off that door too.
Bucky looked in horror at Steve’s writhing figure on the tiled floor. He stood there, frozen, but he managed to snap himself out of it.
“Friday, call Dr. Cho, now!”
__________
You got back to the compound in the middle of the night. It was quiet, and no one was around to welcome you back. You didn’t mind; no one really knew when you were headed back, only an approximation. Still, it stung, but only because there was one person you had been aching to see, one person whose arms you wanted to collapse into, but you were scared. You didn’t know what you were coming home to. You hadn’t thought you could make it during your time away from him. You hadn’t spoken to him in weeks, and you felt like the canyon you had worked so hard to cross was wide open again, the bridge connecting the two of you severed straight down the middle.
Instead of going to your room, you went straight to the gun range, firing slug after slug until the target was in tatters and unrecognizable. You fired a final round, setting your gun down and leaning your head against the wall.
“Hey.”
You turned to the source of the voice, and your blood ran cold. It was Steve. But he wasn’t your Steve anymore, not the Steve you had spent all those nights with baring your soul and giving yourself over to. He was the Steve from before, the one who hated you, the one who could barely look at you. You took in his tall frame, his restored muscles that strained under the T-shirt he was wearing, his chiseled jaw.
“Friday told me you were back,” he said. He took a couple of steps toward you but hesitated when you offered no reaction. He chuckled nervously, scratching at the back of his neck. “You look so disappointed, Rook.”
“I’m not disappointed,” you assured him quickly, and his face brightened up a bit. “Just surprised.”
“Yeah, I was too. Turns out it was just temporary.” He took a few more steps toward you until he was standing just a breath away. For the first time in what felt like forever, you had to tilt your head back to look at his face. You could tell he wanted to reach out to you, but he was waiting for you, waiting to see if you wanted to bridge the gap as much as he did.
You reached out and touched his arm, letting your hand glide up his forearm and over his hardened bicep. You had never touched him when he was like this, and his body felt unfamiliar to you, different and foreign. But you looked up at his lips, and they were the same lips that left you breathless and undone. You looked up at his eyes, and they were the same eyes that beckoned you home, that said you deserved family and warmth and love.
“Are you happy?” you asked him quietly.
He nodded slowly. “I am. But not because of this,” he said, glancing down at himself. He met your gaze again, and the most beautiful smile you ever saw lit up his face.
You don’t know who made the first move, maybe it was you, maybe it was him, but you found yourself enveloped by him, his arms wrapped around you tight and his head resting against yours.
“I missed you,” he murmured into your hair.
Maybe he had been your Steve all along, you were just too stupid to see it. You closed your eyes and tightened your arms around him, not willing to let go any time soon.
“I missed you, too.”