I'm sorry.
Please answer me.
I made a mistake.
As you walked thru the city in the dark, alone, furious, and sobbing, your phone wouldn't stop buzzing with endless texts from Bucky. The last person who would ever hurt you. Or so you thought.
(Y/N), please.
I'm sorry.
That was enough. With a shaky breath, you closed your eyes and let out a loud yell as you threw your phone into the river with all of your strength. It served you right, falling for an Avenger. How could you possibly have believed that you could keep his attention? His life was exciting, full of experiences around the world, with women at every stop, hoping for time with such an attractive and personable man. Bucky was a master of flirting; hell, it worked on you, didn't it?
"Shit. That was an expensive phone." With the moment gone, reality hit you. You were alone in the night, no way to call for a cab, and blocks away from the busiest street to try to catch one. Moving your purse under your coat, you tucked your hands in your pockets and began the long walk back to your apartment.
Within a few blocks of home, your tears finally subsided. You were either all cried out, or completely dehydrated. Either way, your body felt numb and there was nothing you wanted more than to sleep, perhaps for days. Your door was just ahead of you now, so you searched your purse, looking for your keys.
"Hey, (Y/N)?"
Surprised to hear your name when the sidewalks were all but empty, you gasped as you looked up to see Steve approaching you. Other than Bucky, he was the last person you wanted to see.
"Steve, if you've come to apologize for him, or to convince me to talk to him-"
He shook his head and held his hands up, "No, no nothing like that, I promise." He watched you for a moment as your search became more aggressive. "Do you need help?"
You threw your purse to the ground with a solid thump, exasperated and angry. "Son of a bitch. Steve..." Dropping down to sit on the steps to the building, you rested your arms on your legs, wringing your hands. "What do you want?"
He sheepishly grabbed your purse from the ground, and after a few seconds presented you with your keys. "He called me." Gesturing as if to ask to sit, he slowly found a spot next to you when you didn't deny him. "I'm assuming your phone has been thoroughly destroyed?"
Laughing, you found a small comfort in having someone who knew you so well, even if he was the best friend of your new enemy. "How'd you guess?"
"Come on, (Y/N). I've known you long enough." Steve leaned back on the steps, resting his elbows behind him. "I know all kinds of stuff 'bout you. I know that you cry at romantic comedies. I know that you wake up with a craving for pizza after you've been out drinking the night before. I know that your toenails are always painted the same bright shade of pink, year round, because it reminds you of summer. I know that you can ride a rollercoaster for exactly 45 seconds before you get sick." His eyes were introspective now, as if he were watching his own memories play out in his head. His voice became quieter and deeper, "I know that your eyes are a shade of blue that can only be found in the deepest part of the ocean." He stopped, his face now red with the realization of what he was saying.
"Anyway..." you said, clearly uncomfortable and hoping to change the subject.
He took a deep breath and looked away, "Anyway...he called me and said that you weren't answering his texts or calls. It's late and I was worried about you."
"And that's all?" You wiped a tear from your eye, surprised that you had any left. "Nothing else?"
"Listen, I'll never be okay with what he did, (Y/N). Best friend or not. But, that's going to be between him and I. I'm just here to make sure that you're okay. Nothin' else."
You looked to him, and saw that his eyes were sad but genuine. They were a cool blue but filled with warmth; he was telling the truth and he was here to take care of you. Your stomach was in knots as you held his gaze. Why had you never noticed the color before?
"Steve? Would you like to come up for a few minutes?"
"Yes." He replied quickly, almost before the question was fully asked. Steve put a hand to his face, rubbing his chin. "Yep, I said that way too fast, didn't I?" He chuckled and lowered his head to stare at his feet, "Smooth, Rogers. Real smooth."
~~~
"Here." You handed Steve a cup of coffee, sitting next to him on the couch, pulling your legs up underneath you. "Thanks for coming to check on me, Steve. I appreciate it, really."
"Mmm," sipping on his coffee, he nodded, acknowledging you. "It's what I do. I swoop in to rescue the damsel in distress. Works like a charm."
The glimmer in his eyes was unmistakable. Or were you reading too much into it? Was this really the time to be looking at him like this? This was Bucky's best friend. Your friend. "Is that your goal, Steve? Do you want it to work on me? Because..." you paused to set your cup on the table, "I'm no damsel."
His eyes widened, shocked that you were being so direct. "Um, well, I guess...yeah. I guess I do." Sitting motionless, he watched you for some sign of how to respond, but it never came; he would just have to ask. "Is that what you want?"
"We've known each other for a lotta years, Steve. And until today, hell, until just the last hour, I've never looked at you this way before. But now..."
Steve shifted closer to you on the couch, cautiously, but anticipating being much closer very soon. His eyes were dark and intense, searching yours. "But?"
Your breath became shaky and uncertain. You saw him look from your eyes to your lips for just a brief second. "But now..."
Steve saw the opportunity and made his move, eagerly pressing his lips to yours, his body holding you against the couch as his hands learned the curves of your body. You moaned softly at his touch, easily allowing him to take control. You heard a deep growl in his throat as your hands moved to his hair, pulling gently while he covered your neck in hot kisses, his breath sending shivers through you.
"Steve..."
He paused, giving you just enough distance to speak. His lips were red and swollen now, and he was more striking than you had ever seen him.
"Stay with me."
~~~
The next morning you woke to harsh banging on your door. Rolling over, you smiled to yourself as you saw Steve, still asleep. He was really there, and last night had really happened. His chest was moving with his slow, rhythmic breaths, and you wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around him as he slept. With a quiet sigh, you resolved yourself to face the man on the other side of the door, once and for all. You smiled at the realization that Bucky no longer held any piece of your heart.
Trying to stay as quiet as possible, you quickly swung the door open to see Bucky, hungover and disheveled. His eyes brightened for a moment as he saw you, but his smile didn't reach them. "Hey, there's my girl-"
Before you could reply with your carefully chosen array of four-letter words, a large arm reached past your head, striking Bucky and swiftly knocking him to the ground.
"What the hell, Steve?!" Bucky pulled himself up, holding his bleeding nose.
"Sorry, Buck." Steve said as he shut the door, locking it securely.
"My girl."