𝒑𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒕 || s. rogers & b. barnes

7||; 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌

⤷ april 28, 2015
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"Irina," Steve rushes out to meet her as Tony practically drags her out of the base, Iron Man suit already flying in and tucking itself away for later use.

The blond's hands brush over her cheeks, then her neck and shoulders as his eyes look her over intently, checking for any injury with pure Captain America concern. He breathes a sigh of relief when he doesn't see any blood, but meets her eyes and checks, still. "Are you alright?"

Irina nods as Tony continues to guide her to the Quinjet, Steve wrapping an arm around her waist to help her stand more easily and aiding the billionaire in guiding her safely onto the jet.

"Fine. I'm... I should be - " she shakes her head when her voice cracks pitifully. "Did you - Did you get Strucker? Is he...?"

"On his way to federal prison, as he should be, for all the harm he's caused," Natasha speaks up, standing by Clint on the table and looking at her knowingly.

Irina purses her lips, nodding gratefully at the redhead, who nods back.

She puffs out a breath. "Good... That's good," she says.

Tony and Steve help her sit down before she's waving the both of them off. "Go. I'm better. Get us the hell out of here, alright?" She says to Tony, who smirks wryly at her words.

"Right. Of course, smartass," he huffs, squeezing her shoulder as he heads to the cockpit.

Steve stays, though.

He sits down beside her, leaning his head back and letting out a sigh. Irina regards him with amusement. "Exhausted?"

He tilts his head to her, the ends of his lips flicking upwards. "No more than you look," he quips.

"Ooh," Irina hisses, feigning being burned by the words. "Captain America coming in with the sass. What would your loyal fans think, hearing such harsh words from the symbol of virtue, patriotism, and -"

"Stop it," Steve chuckles, turning his head away from her as he breaks out into a grin, one that Irina matches. "It's just Steve. Always been that way, always will. Nothing's gonna change that," he murmurs.

She looks at him, eyes dancing across the side of his face, before sticking to his eyes as she smiles tenderly at the blond. "I should hope not," she utters softly. "I rather like Steve Rogers a lot."

He looks back at her in gentle surprise, eyebrows lifted just slightly, and his baby blues just a bit wider and brighter.

Irina flashes him one last grin, before looking away, keeping her eyes on Clint on the medical table. Banner, the lullaby a whomping success, was hooking him up to an IV stand right as Tony sets them off back to the Tower.

"Will Clint be okay?" She asks. When she gets no answer, Irina looks back at Steve, pausing when she notices he hadn't moved an inch, keeping his eyes locked on her face. They flicker downwards for a second, before darting back up to her eyes.

"Huh?" Steve hums, genuine confusion in his tone, and Irina can't help breaking into a fit of laughter.

She shakes her head away from him, chuckling madly, and poor Steve only sits up straighter, brow furrowing in deeper confusion by the second. "What? What did you say to me, Roberts?" He asks, voice edging onto pleads. "Come on, tell me. I'm sorry -"

The ride back to the Tower is quiet, but not one Irina takes issue with.

It was a routine they'd settled into, exhaustion setting in post-battle. No one wanted to talk much, and that was fine. So the Avengers took to just silently working amongst each other, the sound of engines whirring and footsteps crossing the jet enough to fill the silence.