Saving Steve (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Chapter 34 - Scared

You hold as still as you possibly can. 

Well, as still as you can while ravenously tearing into the cold, dry sandwich that Steve brought back from a bodega. 

As you eat quickly, bite by bite, Steve finishes rolling the gauze wrap around your arm followed by the tan, self-adherent mediwrap. He then pulls out a small tube of antibiotic ointment and smears just a touch over the scar on your forehead. You look at him skeptically, mouth full, as he does so.

"Better to be overly cautious," he says gently, leaning forward and pecking your cheek before storing all the bandages back in the plastic bag. As he tosses them in, he stills and you can hear him rustling around.

"What else did you bring?" you ask curiously, using the back of your hand to wipe away a few leftover crumbs on the corner of your mouth.

"Well," Steve says quietly, reaching down and pulling another bag up on his lap. "I thought you might be getting tired of that old coat," he says, pulling out a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. They're clearly far too big for you, but that doesn't stop the smile that spreads across your face. "Sorry," he says bashfully. "I didn't know your size, so I just got something that would fit me. Because obviously that would fit you and a half."

You smile widens, and you quickly put the other half of your sandwich back in the plastic before launching yourself across the sofa and into Steve's arms.

"Thank you," you whisper in his ear, squeezing him tightly before pulling back and taking the soft, warm bundle of clothes.

"Oh, and I picked us up some other comforts," Steve says, handing you a pre-made dopp kit. You unzip the small black case to find everything you need inside. A travel toothbrush and toothpaste. A stick of deodorant. A razor and mouthwash. And a small bottle that makes your heart leap. One that was clearly an addition to the pre-made kit.

"Is this...is this my shampoo?" you ask, stunned, as you hold up a familiar green bottle. Albeit one smaller than the one in your shower.

Steve's face grows red as he raises a hand to rub the back of his neck.

"Well, I didn't think a dame like you would wanna smell so much like a fella like me," Steve says, casting his eyes downward. "And...I like how it smells on you." 

Your heart flutters and you bite your bottom lip, holding back the one thing you really, really want to say. Instead, you choose give him a simple 'thank you' by leaning forward and placing a light kiss on his cheek.

"I'll be right back," you say excitedly, grabbing the clothes and dopp kit and scurrying out of the office to the bathroom.

You turn on the small, single-stall shower and step back in disgust as what looks like pure mud seeps from the rusted shower head. You've seen this before - in some of the old houses your dad used to renovate. So you set the clothes on the sink and brush your teeth as you wait for the water to run clear. 

It takes several long minutes, but eventually you get clean water. Albeit very cold water. But you don't care as you linger under the icy droplets, letting yourself start to feel clean for the first time in several days, and breathing deeply as sweet, gentle notes of pear fill your nose. 

Not wanting to take too long, you eventually step out and squeeze the water from your hair, wishing desperately for a t-shirt to dry it with and a towel for your body. But knowing you have little choice, you grimace as you throw the sweatshirt on over your wet chest. As you pick up the sweatpants, you laugh when a new pair of boxers falls out from inside. Clearly Steve had meant it when he said he got you clothes that would fit him too.