Save Me, Steve. // Captain America

12- Steve

"Stop staring at him it's getting creepier by the minute, and you've been doing it for three hours straight without a single word so I'm seriously considering hauling you off to a mental hospital that has a large supply of straitjackets." Natasha says from somewhere out of my view.

"Straitjacket" I chuckle without taking my eyes off of Bucky's sleeping face. I don't think he's ever looked this peaceful. "Straight. Jacket." Oh, the irony.

"It speaks!" She cries joyfully. I blink and look over at the bedroom door to see her leaning against the door frame with a sly grin on her face. "Bet a thousand bucks he doesn't move again for an hour." She winks at Sam who snickers.

"Looks like you'd better make a trip to the bank soon as you're gonna be seriously out of pocket." I say as I slowly get up off of my bed, stretching my poor leg muscles. I look down at Bucky, his legs and arms sprawled out over my double bed. My eyes travel slowly down his body and I chuckle as I see his feet dangling over the bottom of the bed. Tall Lump of a man. My tall lump of a man.

"Breakfast?" Sam says, peeking his head round the door. Natasha swats at him as I shake my head.

"Pffft, as if you can cook." She says as she turns away and briskly heads into the kitchen.

"Well don't act like your skills are any better in the culinary department than mine are, Tash!" Sam says, winking at me before running after her. I'm beginning to think that he likes to tease Natasha a little bit too much. But these days it's the only thing that's keeping a smile on our faces.

"I think you'll find that my cooking skills are at an impeccable standard and a much higher level than yours, Samuel." I hear her say from the kitchen, emphasising Sam's full name in her annoyance at him shortening hers.

"Can you even boil an egg?"

"Well-"

"How about a poached egg?"

"Not Exactly-"

"Eggs Benedict?"

"That's not the point! I-"

"Tash, please, leave it to the man who makes women swoon with only his homemade meals as a weapon."

"Weapon?! When will you-"

I shut the door on their bickering, trying to hold in my laughter as I almost hear Sam's chest swell with pride. I sit on the old rocking chair in the corner of my room opposite the door and begin to rock back and forth. I can't help but draw my eyes back to Bucky's sleeping face; his closed eyelids, his partly open mouth, his breaths slow and deep. He looks so.. Gentle. So.. Human. Like the events of this past year have suddenly ceased to exist and they're all just inside my head.

If it weren't for the silver glint of his metal arm in my peripheral vision dragging me back to reality, I could've stayed in this exact position for hours on end, just imagining a new life, a new back story for the both of us.

I rub my eyes with the back of my hands. I'm going mental. I shouldn't be wasting time dreaming up imaginary situations like some kind of child, I should be concentrating on trying to figure a way out of this mess they call the real world.

"I'm sorry Bucky, I truly am." I whisper, trying not to cry as the tears desperately try to find a way to escape my eyes.

The door opens suddenly, pulling me out of my spiralling path down into the depths of my self-made despair and Sam appears, wearing an apron that looks like it was designed to imitate a woman's naked body.

"C'mon, stop sitting in the dark and come grab some breakfast, even Captain America's gotta eat sometime." I get up and follow him into the kitchen, closing the bedroom door behind me. "Now, we've got a whole selection of tasty grub lined up for ya, big boy. Whaddya fancy, eh? Bacon, Eggs, Hash Browns-"

"Sam, where the hell did you get that apron?" I interrupt, shocked not only because of his apron but now because of my brash language.

"Do you like it? Always seen them on t.v but never found a store that actually sells them like this.. y'know, uncensored and everything." Sam laughs, smoothing down his outlandish apron. He suddenly grabs Natasha's arm and spins her around to face me, and I burst out in a fit of laughter as I see that she is also clad in an apron of the same nature, but with the anatomy of a man on hers. And I'm telling you, she does not look very happy!

"It comes in a set, see?" Sam gestures to both of their aprons, obviously extremely proud of this unexpected achievement of his. I wish I could've taken a picture of this exact moment, Sam's beaming face as he confidently links arms with a grumpy-looking top spy.

"Okay okay, well done for making me laugh but also feel incredibly uncomfortable in the same moment in my own apartment, now lets actually eat!"

"What do you want-"

"Everything." I say and Sam laughs as he piles my plate up with a colossal amount of food.

"Now sit the fuck down and just think about filling your belly with the best breakfast you will ever taste." He says, handing me my plate and lightly pushing me in the direction of the lounge. I sink into the sofa and Sam flops onto the other end, picking up the remote and turning on the tv opposite us. Natasha perches on the edge of the armchair underneath the tv, more interested in watching me than the news channel that Sam settles on.

We sit in silence for a while, concentrating on eating breakfast before Natasha finally chimes up.

"So," she says, in between mouthfuls of vegetarian sausage, "what's next?"

"Thought you were the one who always had a plan for every situation." I say.

"Well this should come as no surprise but I've never actually been in a situation quite like this one."

"Top-Spy-Tash is as stumped as we are." Sam says as he shoves heaped spoonful after heaped spoonfuls of baked beans into his mouth. Natasha shoots a disgusted glance his way, to which he gives a wide red beany smile back.

"We should just take this one step at a time, and start to use our time wisely by concentrating on making plans for the future." She says thoughtfully.

"And what future is that? One where we all get out of this mess alive? Or one where we die trying?" My knuckles go white as I grip my fork too tightly, clenching my teeth together.

"Steve, you know we have to-"

"No we don't have to. Who has to plan anything? All my life I've had plans shoved in my face by other people who didn't give a shit about me and who were very happy to let me do their bidding! People were planning shit for me even when I was on ice for most of my life!" I stand up off of the sofa and stride towards the kitchen. "I'm not planning anything. Not yet. Not until I get my head sorted out. Not until we get Bucky safe and away from those monsters."

At that moment I hear a door creak open from behind me, and yet I'm stuck with my back turned away, frozen in place.

"You, want to..save me?"

I drop my fork.