UNRAVELED ~ STEVE ROGERS [3]

Chapter Three

If you think grocery shopping for a family of five is hard, try shopping for one salty scientist and his salty soldier friend, two enhanced beings, one weird robot thing, one assassin, one half Asgardian and Sam Wilson.

It was Games Night, so, in tradition, Sam, Steve and I had gone shopping for a copious number of snacks and alcohol.

“Fruit Loops?” Sam said hopefully, holding up a box of the cursed sugary cereal. I glared at him.

“Sam, honey, you know what happened last time. No Fruit Loops,” I patted his head like he was a small child, and he grunted and swatted my hand away.

“If we’re not getting Fruit Loops, then why am I here?” he said grumpily. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Steve place a whole armful of potato chips and chocolate in the trolley.

“You’re here to help Keight while I,” Steve ripped the request list in half and took one half. “Take the biggest half of the list. Go easy on the whiskey.” Steve patted my arm and disappeared around the corner.

“And even grocery shopping, he’s better than the rest of us,” Sam said grumpily, putting the Fruit Loops back on the shelf and looking at the rest of the list.

“Beer, red wine, whiskey, chicken nuggets, Pop Tarts, and Tater Tots. Who the hell put Tater Tots on the list?” Sam sounded disgusted. I held back a smile.

“You did Sam,” I reminded him. He raised one eyebrow, and chuckled.

“Oh, that’s right,” he grabbed a box and dumped it in the trolley. Chicken nuggets joined them, and a large variety of Pop Tart flavours. Then we wandered into the alcohol section, me leaning over the trolley, and Sam at my side like a loyal puppy.

“Grab two bottles of whiskey, would you Sam?” I said, yawning. Sam looked quizzically at me.

“It only says one on the list, Pickle,” he said suspiciously. I winced at the nickname.

“I know. But we’re getting two,” I smiled and gestured for him to take the bottles.

“What’s the other one for Keight?” Sam wasn’t smiling anymore. I looked away and grimaced, and then back to his brown eyes.

“For my personal use, that’s what its for. Now can you hand it over?” I reached out and tried to grab a bottle, but Sam grasped my hand, pulling it away from the shelf.

“You don’t need it,” he said firmly. I shook my arm, but he didn’t let go of my hand.

“Since when did you know what I need?” I spat, instantly regretting my harsh tone.

“Since I care about you. We all do. You worry us more than anyone right now,” he said softly, but the undertones of his voice suggested he was more than worried.

I glared at him, the muscles in my arms tense as he kept his grip on my hand.

“Is everything ok?” Steve popped out from around the corner, his arms full of bread and other such necessities. Sam let go of my hand and looked at Steve angrily.

“Everything’s fine. Isn’t it Keight?” he growled. I looked at Steve.

“Peachy,” I said sarcastically, and grabbed two bottles of whiskey and dumped them in the trolley. “Just peachy.”

***

I swallowed the rest of my beer and refocused, my eyes narrowed. The stakes were high. There were bets riding on the outcome of this game, and I wasn’t about to let Steve lose another $100 because he bet on the wrong player.