Wouldn't Leave You (A Captain America Fan fiction)

Breakfast at Sam's

"You okay?" he says and I look away.

"Yeah," I hum, not being able to meet his eyes.

"What's going on?" he asks, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his legs.

"When I first joined S.H.I.E.L.D. I thought I was going straight. I thought I know whose lies I was telling, but I guess I can't tell the difference anymore." I say, finally making eye contact with him. I offer him a small, pathetic attempt at a smile. I watch as his lips turn up into a humorless smirk.

"There's a chance you might be in the wrong business," Steve says. I scoff, smiling a little bit more. The soft moment is quickly turned serious as I feel my expression harden.  

"I owe you, again," I whisper, putting the towel down. He shakes his head.

"It's okay," he says, his face sincere. I shake my head. 

"No, it's not. In the truck, you said you thought I didn't trust you anymore. I think this experience makes it pretty clear that I trust you. I trust you with my life." I pause. "Be honest with me, would you trust me to save you?" His eyes look around the room as he tries to come up with an answer. 

"I don't think you should keep trusting me with your life... I haven't been overly successful. You've gotten hurt more times in the field when I've been there," he raises an eyebrow, turning the corner of his mouth up in a smile. I smirk, my features relaxing again.

"Well, I haven't been a good agent while I'm out there with you. Something always seems to distract me," I say. His half-smile turns into a bashful grin; his cheeks turn a light shade of pink. We sit for a moment in silence, looking at each other. I watch his eyes slowly detach themselves from my gaze and move down to my lips. I take a soft, shuddering breath in as I slowly start to lean forward. Steve follows my lead, gradually closing the distance.

"I made breakfast." Sam interrupts, causing us to pull away without our lips ever touching. Steve clears his throat as I pull my wet hair back behind my shoulders, hoping that would help me cool off. "If you guys eat that sort of thing," he says with a smirk.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You make a mean waffle, Sam Wilson," I state, picking up my plate and taking it over to the sink.

"Yeah, heating them up was really difficult." I place my plate in the sink and turn towards him, nudging his arm. I feel Steve watching us from the table closely. 

Sam's kitchen is quite plain, a little L-shaped counter with one side against the wall and the other cutting up the space between his table and the area containing all of the appliances. I walk to the side closest to the table and lean against it casually. 

"So the question is, who at S.H.I.E.L.D. could launch a domestic missile strike?" I say.

"Pierce," Steve says, turning his attention across the room. He had changed out of his undershirt, much to my displeasure. Sam offered him a set of clothes, which I was very jealous of. Although, he did happen to have a smaller shirt lying around which I gladly accepted. 

"Who happens to be sitting on top of the most secure building in the world," I say, walking over to Steve, leaning over one of the backs of the kitchen chairs.

"But, he's not working alone," Steve says puzzled. "Zola's algorithm was on the Lemurian Star." I stand there for a second, thinking through a connection.

"So was Jasper Sitwell." I cross my arms, standing up straight again. Steve sighs in annoyance.

"So, the real question is, how do the two most wanted people in Washington kidnap a S.H.I.E.L.D. officer in broad daylight?" Steve questions as he looks between Sam and I.