*kept this up purely for laughs and cringe* book 2 of oneshots about everyone's favorite friendly neighborhood spider-man and god-given patriotic symbol, steve rogers!
steve comforting you after you're in denial about your father's death. inspo from harry potter and the order of the phoenix...please don't kill me for writing angst again i'm sorry haha it's just easier to write sad stuff. au where you're 32 and steve is 34. also im a sucker for civil war steve looks so lets imagine that for this
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Today is what anyone would probably call another laid-back, casual day. The Avengers are gathered around in the lounge of the compound, chatting quietly as a plate of cookies sits on the coffee table in the center. You smile to yourself at the sight, enjoying the fact that you were able to get together and spend quality time together as a team outside of your usual missions and press conferences.
Everything is perfect. Almost.
You nervously begin to pick at your nails, looking back and forth between the TV screen and your phone in your lap, waiting for the call from SHIELD that Team Delta was back from their three-week trek through Afghanistan. Your father was head of the navy division, a skilled fighter pilot for over twenty-five years, and you have to constantly remind yourself that he's not here yet, just wait patiently for the call that he's returned, and everything will return to normal.
You tried begging him not to leave. From what you'd managed to hear, what he was being deployed to do was essentially a suicide mission. But no matter how many times you argued with Fury, no matter how many times you tried to convince him to stay and not risk his life, he wouldn't budge. And you gave up in the end, knowing a determined soul such as your father's wasn't going to give up on a job he was so passionate about that easily.
Instead of the anticipated phone call, you look over and see the elevators slide open to reveal Phil and Maria. The smile immediately slides off your face when you noticed the grief-stricken expressions that they wore.
Maria takes a few tentative steps forward before pulling you in for a quick hug, something she hasn't done to you in years. That's when your insides run cold and your blood turns to ice. Something wasn't right, you could feel it.
She pulls away, and you notice the tears beading her dark lashes.
"What's wrong?" you asked carefully.
She doesn't reply, and simply shakes her head. This isn't right. Maria Hill never cries. Your best friend, your colleague whom you've worked with for almost a decade, never cries, especially not in front of other people. And Coulson always has a smile on his face. But this time he doesn't. His face is stoic, eerily void of any emotion compared to the grin he always wore whenever he saw you, Steve, or the rest of the team.
Your brain starts piecing everything together bit by bit and your heart sinks. No. This can't be happening. No no no no no. Please, God, no. This can't be real.
"Where's my dad?"
When she doesn't reply again, you repeat your question. "Maria. Where. Is. My. Dad?"
