Saving Steve (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Chapter 27 - I'm Sorry

"Why?!" you hiss angrily. "So you can tell me why you regret choosing me? So you can explain to me how I've become a burden? A liability?"

"No, no that's not...just let me explain!"

"Ross called me a liability once too," you seethe, pushing past Steve and moving towards the door and grabbing the handle. 

"I regret how deeply I ache for you!"

This time you freeze as Steve's voice rolls through the office, crashing upon you like a tidal wave, stealing the air from your lungs as it submerges you completely. 

Your brow furrows and you slowly let go of the door handle, straightening to turn and face Steve's silhouette as tendrils of moonlight crawl around the edges of his body, casting a soft glow upon his face.

In his eyes you see a tear. 

"Before I fell asleep last night," he says. "My last thought was that you smelled like pears."

Steve takes a small step towards you as he swallows nervously, his gaze locked on yours.

"And I dreamt about us. About you. How you looked with little streaks of flour on your cheek and in your hair. The sound of your laugh. And when I woke up this morning, the first thing I thought about was how soft your skin felt on mine, and how warm you had kept me."

You struggle to breathe as Steve steps closer, erasing the distance between you, now only a pace away.

"I don't regret meeting you. I don't regret being with you. I regret knowing that I've lost all of myself to an amazing woman that doesn't deserve to live a life of fear. I regret knowing that I have to get you home. That I have to get you away from this."

"Steve," you exhale, a tear slipping from your eye.

"And I regret putting you through this. I regret how scared you must have been today. How much danger I put you in," Steve says angrily, his tone turning bitter, before softening once more.

"That's...that's why I need to hold you. Even if just for a moment. I need to know you're okay," Steve pleads in a broken whisper, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

As Steve's helpless eyes burn into you, you feel the last of the frozen walls around your heart thaw, the remains dripping to the floor and puddling around your feet. 

"Okay," you hear yourself whisper.

The moment the words leave your lips, Steve's strong and sturdy arms are wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you into his chest as you feel his entire body relax. It only takes a moment for you to melt into his familiar and safe embrace. Your arms wind around Steve's neck, fingers burying themselves in the blonde hair at the nape of his neck, gently running through it as he holds you.

"Thank God you're safe," he mumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply, pulling you in even tighter.

For a long while, Steve simply holds you, occasionally running his hand up and down your back, your sides, your arms. As if reassuring himself you're real. 

He finally releases you, pulling back only far enough to rest his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses touching.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so sorry. Forgive me."

At his explicit apology, you break. In your last relationship you had never been given an apology. Not a real apology. For the first time, you're being told it's not your fault. You are the one with the power to forgive. 

You slowly let out a breath and tip your head to the side, pressing your lips softly to Steve's. 

Steve inhales sharply in surprise, but after only a second presses back into you, threading his fingers through your hair as his lips dance against yours in a silent apology. Silent pleading. Pleading for your absolution.

You give it to him, pulling him closer as you sigh into his familiar body, humming contentedly. 

After a moment Steve pulls away, running his thumb over your lower lip as his blue eyes dart back and forth between yours.

"Where do you hide it all?" he asks you softly, a hint of wonder in his voice.

"Hide what?" you ask breathlessly, a smile playing on your lips.

Steve smiles gently and leans forward, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek before whispering in your ear. 

"Your grace."

Steve takes your chin gently between his fingers, pulling you once more to him in a tender kiss before letting you go and taking a step back.  But he keeps ahold of your hand as he guides you back to the couch. 

"You should get some rest," he says quietly. "It's been a long day. And you can sleep off the whiskey."

"What?" you laugh, allowing him to guide you down onto the sofa. 

Steve simply lets out a laugh once you're laying down, and ambles over to the desk in the dark. Reaching out and picking up the liquor bottle.

"Charlie's whiskey," Steve sighs sadly. "He was saving this. Looks like he never popped the question."

You prop yourself up on your elbows, looking questioningly over at Steve. And although he likely can't see your face in the dark, he can tell by your posture you're curious.

Steve walks over to the couch and sits near your feet. 

"I could taste it on your lips," he chuckles. "Charlie's whiskey. He kept this bottle in his desk for years. Saying he was saving it for when he popped the question to Betty Jo."

"Do you know what happened to him?" you ask tentatively.

"No," Steve says. "I went into the ice and when I came out, Charlie was the furthest thing on my mind."

"I'm sorry," you say quietly, sitting up and reaching out for Steve, placing your hand gently on his thigh.

"I thought we talked about this," Steve says teasingly, setting the whiskey bottle on the floor and covering your hand with his. "You shouldn't apologize for things that aren't your fault."

Your cheeks flush as Steve's fingers dance on top of your hand, stroking it lovingly.

You let out a sigh and reach out your arms for Steve. He obliges, and crawls up the couch until he's wedged tightly between you and the back of the frame, holding you close.

You sigh, content to be with Steve once more as he pulls your chest into his back and places small kisses on your cheek, his beard tickling your neck and sending pleasurable shivers down your spine. For several moments he holds you before loosening his grasp, and starting to sit.

"Where are you going?" you ask.

"There's another sofa in the old prop room down the hall. I can sleep there tonight," he says, standing and bending over you, kissing your cheek.

"Wait," you callout, finding yourself nervous at the thought of being left alone in the dark for the night. "I...I'd rather you stay."

"Are you sure?" Steve asks, his words laced with doubt.

In answer, you simply pull the cushions from the back of the sofa and toss them on the ground, patting the extra space beside you.

Steve smiles and slides back in behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

"But you're not off the hook, Rogers," you mumble sleepily. 

"I don't presume to be," he answers, placing tired, lazy kisses on your shoulder.

"And we're talking about this whole 'getting me home' thing in the morning," you grumble through a yawn.

"Yes ma'am."

Smiling, you find yourself quickly slipping into the mindless void as Steve's warm and rhythmic breathing lulls you to sleep.