𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 | 𝟏𝟖+

3 | The Alleyway Heroine

So what did Honey choose to do?

She grabbed the giant, empty liquor bottle next to the dumpster, mentally thanking the poor soul who left it there, as she tiptoed towards the pair - her heart practically beating out of her chest. Purposely staying in the shadows, Honey positioned herself behind the round, scruffy man threatening Steve, and smashed the bottle across his bald head. 

With frightened eyes, Honey watched the man collapse to the concrete before looking up at Steve, who looked stunned to see her. His lips were parted in disbelief as he stared at her, blinking a few times before she snatched his hand and yanked him as hard as she could down the alley. "Well, what are you standing there for? Let's go."

Adrenaline coursing through her veins, worried that she might have possibly killed that man, Honey led Steve towards the street where her bicycle was waiting for her - grasping onto his hand for dear life.

She wasn't completely sure if the fact that she was touching him had anything to do with the way her heart felt like it could implode at any second.

"I'm not getting on that thing."

"What? No, it's fine," Honey reassured him urgently, patting the small space above the back tire for him to climb on. "We have to go."

"I've seen how you ride that thing, hell no."

Honey grunted ardently, rolling her eyes as she mounted the seat, turning back to meet his concerned eyes. "We don't have time for this, mister. Get on."

Steve glanced down at the bicycle once more before hesitantly looking back up at her.

"Get on the damn bike!" she yelled fervently.

"Okay, okay," he said rather quickly, holding his hands up defensively as he carefully mounted himself behind her, his face construed in an unsure manner.

"Hold on," she instructed coolly this time. "And lift your feet."

Honey waited until his hands enveloped around her waist before she kicked off, peddling rapidly in the direction of her apartment, which luckily was only a few blocks away. She had ridden with her little brother on the back of her bike countless times, but Steve wouldn't know that. He had no way of knowing that she was practically a seasoned pro when it came to this.

"Are you sure about this?" Steve questioned loudly, his grip around her waist tightening.

"What? Are you scared?" Honey teased, turning her head slightly to raise her eyebrow at him.

"Of you crashing and killing us both, yes."

"No need," she laughed softly at the way his fingers gripped her yellow vest, coming to a halt in front of her apartment building. "We're already here."

Honey had moved into this apartment complex right before the blip. She remembered the way her mother acted as though she was moving across the country when she had moved out of her parent's house. The memory always made her smile.

"You live here?" Steve sounded skeptical as he hurriedly hopped off the back of her bike, running his fingers through his blonde hair.

"Mhm," Honey hummed happily, glancing over at him as she chained up her bicycle. "And you're bleeding, so come on."

"It's not that bad."

"Do you have to fight everything?" she questioned in amusement, tilting her head sideways as she peered up at him. "Will you just follow me? Jeez."

Honey shook her head as she walked up the steps, pulling out her keys as she glanced over her shoulder to make sure that he was right behind her. 

Her apartment was orderly - per usual. Honey was never one to have a messy place, she was a little too organized, her dad used to say. When she wasn't working or going to school, she was keeping herself busy with cleaning. She always attempted to stay busy these days.

As she flicked on the lights of her apartment, the urban, light-colored decor came into view. Honey prided herself on her apartment decorating skills - the plants that were scattered in almost every crevice, the cream aesthetic that matched her dark, wooden floors. Being surrounded with cozy, bright colors always made her feel content.

"The bathroom is through there," Honey pointed out the door for Steve, who was looking around. "Go sit." 

Much to her surprise, this time he didn't argue. Grabbing the first aid kit inside of the kitchen pantry closet, she made her way into the bathroom, pleased to see that he was perched on the toilet, waiting. The cut on his neck wasn't severe, but deep enough to draw blood. Whisking some cotton pads and rubbing alcohol from the kit, she positioned herself between his legs, standing in front of him. Her naive heart, of course, began to thump a little harder at their close proximity.

"Do you live alone?"

"Why?" Honey pondered, pressing the alcohol-soaked pad against the cut, earning a wince. "You going to kill me if I say yes?"

Her eyes peeked up from her handiwork to see the usual, serious look plastered on Steve's face as he studied her silently. Before she could stare stupidly back at him, she wiped at the fresh wound a few more times, basking in the stillness as they both stayed quiet.

"Looks like you won't be bleeding out after all," she reassured him after a few more moments. 

"Disappointed?" he queried lowly.

Honey had accomplished the impossible - having an actual conversation with the grumpy, old man. He was still very much grouchy, but he was talking to her. Her plan was officially in motion.

Operation make Steve Rogers smile is what she liked to call it. 

"It's late," she commented gently, ignoring his previous question because she knew she would eventually be sucked back into his all-consuming stare. "You can sleep on the couch."

Throwing the crimson-colored cotton in the trash, Honey walked back into the living room to make sure there was a pillow and blanket for him to use.

"I shouldn't stay-"

"Goodnight," she interrupted him sternly, turning to raise her eyebrow in his direction before twirling around on her heel and disappearing into her bedroom. 

Honey had done her good deed for the day.