hold on || s. rogers ASSEMBLE ✔️

[ four ]

"Why shouldn't they?"

"Because human lives are important, Steve. You can't just toss them into a war. I could never imagine signing a document and sending a hundred thousand men to foreign land to die."

"Most men are willing to die for their country."

I snorted and took a left down the street. "Maybe in the forties. And what about the drafts? I'm sure those men didn't feel so lucky. The fucking Hunger Games brought to life." I shook my head. If there was one thing that I did not like, it was the idea of war.

Steve grew quiet at my words and I couldn't tell what he was thinking about. But after a second he shook his head and continued our argument. "That's high and mighty for a dame like you. One that still has blood on her hands after whatever went wrong in Boston."

"First off, don't call me a dame. I'm a fucking woman, Jesus Christ." I almost fumed. I finally pulled into the lot of the apartment building and parked the car in the back spot. "And second, don't you dare talk about something you don't know anything about."

"Oh, I'm sure I can guess exactly what happened. I've only known you for a few hours but I'm sure your temper got the best of you." Steve said with a look.

I pulled the keys from the ignition and turned to look at him. "My temper? I did my fucking job, Steve. That terrorist was trying to deal illegal weapons straight from Wakanda. He's dead now. The house went down in flames because that idiot tried to kill me with a blow torch."

"Yeah, sure." Steve said with an eye roll.

I groaned loudly and grabbed my phone from the center console. In the back seat was my bag that I had left earlier in the week, before my mission. I got out of the car after I grabbed it.

Steve followed suit, quiet for once.

I walked into the building fuming, because how dare he assume anything about me and how dare he think that I was lying about what happened in Boston. He clearly didn't understand what I told him earlier today.

My hands were curled into a fist, arms crossed, as I picked up the keys from the landlord in his office. "Here, here's your fucking key." I gave him the metal key that would let him into his new home.

"Must you always be so vulgar? It's not very lady like."

The echoing sound of my palm hitting his cheek surprised both him and the landlord, but not me. My anger was boiling red hot and I knew it was only a matter of time before it took over.

"Let's get something straight," I said, taking steps towards him. He stepped backwards with a hand to his red cheek and mouth open in shock. "I am not some little damsel in distress from your time. In this world, women are more than just property. More than just a claim. More than just a fucking object." I told him.

His back hit the old couch that was in the lobby of the building and he fell backwards. Blue eyes looked up at me as I leaned down so we were eye level.

"You can leave that misogyny in the past, boy. I do not care for it here and I will give you hell if you ever, ever, say anything like that to me again. And you'll wish we never found you in that pile of ice." My voice was even and smooth, as it always was when I was telling a man off. And there had been many, many times.

A half glare mixed with an under layer of fright was displayed on his face, and I watched him gulp down whatever response he was going to give me.

"Do you have anything else to say to me?" I asked.

"No, no." Steve said and looked down. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-."

"No, you didn't. Ignorance is bliss, right? Until it costs the lives of minorities all around the world. Now get your ass off the couch and let's go to your apartment so you can see where you'll be living."

Without another word, I turned and walked towards the stairway. I heard Steve following behind me but I paid no attention, taking the stairs two at a time to get to the fourth floor.

The usual smell of paint and mold filled my senses as I walked down the familiar hallway. There were four doors in this hallway. One belonged to myself, another to Nia, the third to another agent, and the last now belonged to Steve Rogers.

"Four oh three is yours." I told him, pulling my own key from the bag over my shoulder. "I'll see you later."

My apartment door shut behind me and I sighed against it, trying and failing to let go of some of the anger that still resided in me.

Lady like?

Who the hell does he think he is? As if my only priority in life was to please men by being seen and not heard. By sitting still and looking pretty, don't fuss around, only speak when spoken to. Hell, now that was something I would never do.

Being raised by a Puerto Rican father left little room to allow such misogynistic comments to float by. I've done much worse for less comments. It always made my blood boil; it left my tongue heavy with insults, and my brain working twice as fast to put the unlucky man on his ass.

A soft ringing of a bell finally pulled me from my angry thoughts and I bent down to scoop up the gray tabby cat that had made her way towards me. "Hey Whisk," I kissed the top of her head. "You'll never believe what has happened now."

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i love writing characters with
anger issues it is so much
fun

also there is nothing hotter
than a woman who is so
badass like ugh
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