WARNINGS: Cheating in relationship, language
Temptation was staring you in the face, only an arm's length away, beckoning you to take the final step towards it. You had stood in place for the last twenty minutes trying to decide what to do, fully expecting Steve to knock at any moment to see what was taking you so long. But deep down, you knew that wasn't actually going to happen.
She was here.
His attentions were likely elsewhere, which made sense as to why he left his phone behind; his mind was clouded by something new and exciting, though you had yet to actually prove it. Steve Rogers was literally the picture of a good man, a print of him in his uniform hanging on the far wall of your room; he looked honest enough, smiling and welcoming, but in the past few months, that façade was beginning to falter.
Peggy had passed away, and it was at her funeral that Steve connected with Sharon again; she had lived next to him in D.C. for months but he never knew who she really was. But now he was spending more and more of his free time with her, telling you that he was just talking to her about his past and that she filled in some of her aunt's memories for him in the time that he had lost. He said that she understood him and gave him a familiar sense of support.
But that was supposed to be your job.
You took the final step towards his dresser and held your hand over the phone, watching yourself begin to gently tremble as you realized what you were about to do. This could be it. Steve was either about to be cleared of the transgressions in your mind, or he would be found guilty and that would be the end. There would be no middle ground for you. Closing your eyes, you slid your hand over the smooth glass of its screen and took it in hand, seeing the bright illumination even through your closed lids. With a deep breath you slowly reopened them and entered his password, thumbing through the screens until you found his photos. He didn't even make a strong effort to hide them.
It was the very first picture.
Your fingers danced over the screen to send as many pictures to your own phone as you could while storming to the lounge in a rage. The color of your face now matched the ruby red of your cocktail dress and your heartbeat was pounding in your ears; the ridiculous heels that Natasha insisted you wear to the party tonight were miserable to wear, but they were remarkably aerodynamic as you threw them absentmindedly somewhere in the hallway when you began to run.
The laughter from the party below grew louder with each step until you were finally there, standing on the level above, overlooking the faces of your team; a few of your own friends, and him. She was only a few steps away, laughing with Tony, her hand on his back like they were the best of friends. You couldn't help but feel like you were being completely replaced.
"Steve Rogers is a goddamn liar!" you yelled out over the group, who immediately silenced and turned to you. FRIDAY even stopped the music at the sound of your voice. "Good 'ol Captain America is a motherfucking cheater!"
Tony dropped his glass, shattering on the wooden floor as he stared at you with utter shock and his mouth open wide. Bruce and Clint stood from their seats on the couch and simply stared at Steve to wait for his response. Natasha was immediately in motion to get to you, while Bucky and Thor looked away with covered eyes and grimaced expressions that spoke volumes about how they would rather be anywhere else than here.
"(Y/N), calm down," Steve answered, stepping closer with his hands raised. "I think we should talk about this in private, don't you?"
"No! No, Steve, I think everyone deserves to know who you really are!" You clutched the phone in your hand so tightly that your fingers were beginning to whiten under the pressure. "Everyone deserves to know that you've been lying to them this entire time! Lying to me!" Pulling your arm back you pitched the phone as hard as you could, sending it for his head but instead smashing through one of the glass walls below when he ducked just barely in time. "History should know that Steve Rogers is nothing but a fucking coward."
Sharon was stunned at your outburst and at a complete loss for words until Tony grabbed her arm to try to lead her away. "Wait, Steve told me that they weren't together anymore," she whispered to him. Her eyes grew wider as she quickly realized what was happening, jolted now from her stupor by the look that Tony was giving her in return. "Oh, shit."
"Yeah, oh shit."
~~~
"(Y/N), come on, let me walk you back to your room," Sam pushed, trying to get you away from the situation before Steve could get up the stairway to meet you. "Come on, girl, please."
"Did you know?"
"I didn't know it had gotten this far," he replied coyly and quietly, glancing over his shoulder at the group below and growing more urgent to move you.
"Don't bullshit me, Wilson. I'll pitch something at your head too. Did you know?"
"I knew it was headed this way, yeah."
"I know we're having our problems," you sighed through a breaking voice and still shaking heavily, "I just didn't think that this is how it would go. I never would've thought that he would be that guy."
"(Y/N), listen to me," Steve called out to you as he reached the top of the stairs, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen." He was hurrying in long strides towards you, but Sam moved in his way and kept a defensive stance between you.
"Just go back downstairs, Cap."
"Of course you didn't mean for this to happen, Steve," you snapped, pushing your way around Sam. You didn't stop to face him, knowing that even though you had just admitted to yourself that this end was likely inevitable, you felt the pain beginning to build and it was quickly becoming intolerable. Looking at his face only brought the good memories and the sadness of loss, and you needed to get away from it before you broke apart.
"Cheaters never mean to get caught."
~~~
It had been three months since that evening, and it was a three months filled with laughter, camaraderie, fun times together, and loving relationships; for everyone but you. Or, at least that's what you thought. Tony and Pepper were the usual peculiar couple, but you were relieved that they were never ones to flaunt their relationship now more than ever. Bucky and Natasha were too hard to read and you didn't really try; between either sparring constantly or talking to each other all lovey in Russian, because you could tell by their tone, you almost had no interest in knowing any more. It was actually the pairing of Steve and Sharon that had held your attention no matter how hard you tried to not watch.
It was the slow unravel that drew you in. You weren't enjoying it, per se, but you weren't looking away, either. You hadn't exactly been following along with their drama, but the occasional screaming match really got your attention when they echoed through the tower hallways. It brought a snide smile to your face, despite the pain it brought with it; you and Steve had never yelled at each other until the night you found out, and you couldn't help but think that they were getting what they deserved. As they should've known, the common bond of Peggy wasn't enough to sustain them. The initial lust wore off and found that love was much harder to feel when tensions began to build. Each time that you saw him looking particularly sad or worn, you wanted to see if he was okay, but you had gotten better at quieting that little voice in your head and keeping out of it.
"Hey, you good?"
Steve's voice broke your train of thought and brought you back into the moment, sitting on the quinjet with him, Clint and Tony. The group was headed to a skirmish in Nigeria, where Natasha and Sam were already well underway; if they had to call you in for backup, you knew that it wasn't going to be easy.
"You look nervous."
"Not at all," you smiled gently, though not looking his way, "just lost in thought. Nothing worth mentioning."
"Okay...well, great..." Steve mumbled to himself before regaining his focus. "Okay, I've got you with Tony on this. He'll fly you into the hostage zone and get you inside so you can treat any wounded before we try to move them out. The rest of us will have the area cleared by the time you're ready."
"Got it."
Steve nodded in agreement and grabbed his gloves from his pack, slowly slipping each over his hands and securing the straps, every few seconds glancing back at you. He wanted to talk but you didn't want anything to do with it; you were about to go into a hostile area and you needed to keep your focus. Besides, he didn't have anything to say that you cared to hear.
"(Y/N), can we talk about-"
His voice came to an immediate halt when the jet shuddered and rocked violently with the sounds of frantic alarms filling the cabin. Steve struggled to stand and pushed his way forward, tilting with each shift to make his way to Clint at the pilot seat. "What's happening?"
"We took a big hit," Clint struggled, "came outta nowhere." His grip on the controls tightened so much that his veins were bulging from his arms under the tension. They shook with the jet and he struggled to maintain, when finally, the jet sputtered and failed with the engine going eerily silent. "Hang onto something!"
Steve's immediate reaction was to take the seat next to you and strap into the harness, reaching over to make sure yours was secure. He instinctively wrapped his arms around you, pulling you next to him and holding the shield out in front. "Hang on to me, I've got you."
In the span of a few seconds, your mind raced with a million things that you wanted to say. Thousands of unspoken apologies from the years filled your thoughts, and the need to forgive him blindsided you; you didn't know how this would end and you didn't dare chance that you would never get to say it. He had said he was sorry to you more times than you could count over the past months, but you never once offered even a hint of absolution.
Your heartbeat was pounding in your chest, almost painfully now at the thought of finality, and the driving sound filled your hearing. The feeling of his stare on you wasn't subtle, and you had to look. It only took a second for those blue eyes to break you, but as fate would always insist, you opened your mouth to say what you thought you never would just as everything went black in a scraping, crashing, and explosive disaster.
~~~
That's too much blood, your mind screamed at you as you awoke, feeling the hot liquid running down your face and over your arm. The searing heat around you from the fires within the jet fuselage burned your eyes, but you forced them open to see Steve still at your side, barely hearing Tony yelling for Clint while trying to extinguish the flames around you all.
"Steve," you groaned, weakly pulling at your harness to free yourself when you didn't get a reply. The metal of the buckle was crushed and the straps were twisted into an impossible restraint that felt as if it were strangling you. As your vision cleared, you saw your bag just near your feet; stretching as far as you could, even though the pull against your muscles brought a scream from your throat, you managed to hook one of the straps enough to bring it closer. Frantically ripping it open and searching, you found a scissor strong enough to cut the straps away.
"Steve, can you hear me?"
"Yeah. (Y/N), are you okay?" His voice was gravelly and weak, but he was awake, and you breathed a small sigh of relief. Finally having the chance to look, you realized that not all of the blood on your skin was yours; it was his.
"You're bleeding really heavily, Steve. I need to find out where this is coming from." Once again, your hands were searching your kit until you found gloves and a light, barely strong enough to cut through the smoke and dark fires around you. It was barely enough to see the deep gash that cut through his thigh, leaving a pooling beneath it. "Shit," you cursed to yourself, "honey, listen to me, okay?"
"Okay." He hissed through clenched teeth and let out a loud groan when your hand pressed into the center of the wound with all of your strength, desperate to stop the bleeding. "I deserve that."
"Shut up, now is not the time. You have a severed artery, Steve. I need to get in there." Grabbing the thickest sutures you could find while struggling to hold your pressure, you ripped the pack open with your teeth and pulled the material out into your free hand. "You can yell if you need to. It's okay."
"Just go, (Y/N)."
With a deep breath to bolster your confidence, you pushed your fingers in between the muscles of his thigh and moved carefully until you felt the artery between them and pinched the ends closed around the cut that had him trying to bleed out right in front of you. Gently sliding the thin material along the path of your hand, you threaded the needle into the vessel and pulled it together roughly, repeating tie after tie until it looked to be holding up and the bleeding had halted.
"I think I got it," you sighed, exasperated and with a wipe of your forearm against your sweaty brow, "but we need to get you to a hospital. I don't know how long that's gonna hold." You raised up and looked for Tony, but he was nowhere to be seen or heard; it was too dark in the jet, and the glaring sunlight outside wasn't helping in the least. "I need to find Tony, be right back."
Steve could only nod between his panting breaths, still recovering from the pain you had just caused. He held the bandages you gave him over his leg and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes to focus on anything else.
"Stark? Tony are you out here?" Taking a few cautious steps, still feeling a little wobbly from the accident, you looked back at the jet that had twisted and broken. You quietly thanked Clint for being such an excellent pilot before turning back to search again, but a quiet click of metal under your foot had you stopped in your tracks.
"Oh, that's not good," you groaned, realizing that you were standing on a landmine. "This is sooo not my day. Tony? I would really appreciate it if you could answer me? You know, before I die."
"What do you mean, (Y/N)?" Steve's voice broke in. "What's going on?"
"Don't you dare move, Steve. If you ruin my stitches..."
"I can be there...in a...minute."
"Rogers, sit your ass down! Stark, now would be a good time!"
The wind rustled your hair when he finally landed the suit next to you, looking barely as scratched up when compared to the pile of jet parts next to you. "What's going on? You okay?"
"My foot," you whispered, pulling your comm away so Steve wouldn't hear, "I'm pretty sure that I'm standing on a detonator."
"Shit."
"Exactly. You have any genius ideas on how I might get out of this with two legs?"
"Hold on, let me talk to FRIDAY." He turned and stepped away towards the jet, waving his hands as he spoke, the movement growing more animated with each passing second. You had no idea what he was working on in his genius mind, but you'd take pretty much anything.
"Okay, I've got a plan," he turned back, taking a single step towards you before his thrusters fired and he dove forward, flipping over and facing up in flight so that the suit would be towards the explosion instead of you. His hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you to him as he barreled by, but the force of the blast knocked him down, throwing you out of his hold and to the ground with a hard landing.
The world around you was spinning now, and everything hurt. You looked down and felt immediately nauseated at the sight of your own leg, fractured and bent at an extreme angle that you never even thought possible. But it was still there, and your adrenaline was beginning to falter at the relief. The pain came in waves no matter how many shots of Morphine Tony stabbed into you.
When Rhodey and Bucky arrived with another jet, Tony carefully set you inside, suspiciously happy about putting Steve next to you. It was a futile attempt, however, as you both were asleep under the haze of pain relief, but it wasn't lost on your friend that somehow the two of you still managed to find each others' hands.
~~~
"Can I talk to you?"
"Don't try to take advantage just because I'm riding a wave of narcotics and feeling overly emotional, Steve. That's playing dirty." You rolled over slightly so that you could see him in the bed next to you, taking care to not cause yourself any more pain for the man than necessary.
"I'm not, I promise."
"Given the new side of you that I've gotten to meet recently, I never know anymore."
Steve cast his gaze away from you and to the IV in his hand, shaking his head while replaying the events that brought you here in his mind. "We could have died today."
"But we didn't."
"Thanks to you."
"Steve, come on. No matter what history you and I have, and no matter how much of a complete asshole you were, and even though I spent weeks envisioning the precise method I'd use to kill you, I wouldn't actually let you die."
A small chuckle escaped him, but it was quickly silenced before he replied, "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I know that I've said it before, and I really do mean it. This time more than all of the others. But if you don't trust me ever again, I wouldn't blame you."
"I still trust you, Cap."
"Cap," he murmured with the slightest shake of his head, "I suppose I might never be more than that to you again, and I understand if we never get another shot, because that's my doing. But...(Y/N), I screwed up. I wont' forgive myself for that, but...do you think you ever will?"
"This might be the Morphine talking," you replied quietly, "but maybe."
"I'll take it."
Part 2
"Sam, are you seeing this?"
"Yeah, where else do you think I'd be looking?"
You stifled a laugh under your breath, trying to not look happy in front of the injured SHIELD agents laid out on the ground around you; you didn't want to be rude, after all. "This," you paused, holding up one man's leg, "is a perfectly applied cast, performed in the field, at that. Look at how perfectly aligned that foot is. Damn, I'm good. I'm so good."
"You, sweetheart, are perfect."
"Tell me something I don't know, bird brain."
Sam had been keeping watch over you from a landing above while you patched up as many agents as you could, waiting for the rescue jets to arrive. Steve was with Thor and Natasha only a few hundred yards away, keeping the battle as far from you as they could so that you could work. After the jet crash six months ago, you and Steve had no problem working together, keeping your relationship in the field as professional as ever; some might even call it pleasant and friendly.
But when you got home at the end of the day, that was a different story. Any interaction that wasn't directly related to work was reduced to one syllable words and nonsensical sounds to barely acknowledge each other just out of basic courtesy. The team had been supportive of the two of you, orchestrating dances around each other so that your encounters would never evolve into arguments or insults, despite the fact that they were easily ready in your mind if you should ever need them.
"Bird brain?" Sam scoffed. "Wow, (Y/N), I expected so much more from you." He took a few steps forward and dove towards the ground, landing at your side, but you didn't notice until you felt him press up behind you to whisper in your ear. "How many times do I have to tell you that you can't be bending over like that in front of me?"
"Stop it, Sam."
"What? I'm serious."
"You can't play like that when Steve is right there," you turned to point at the Captain, but he grabbed your wrist to regain your full attention.
"Who says I'm playing? And why the hell would it matter if he's here?" After a silent pause he straightened and took a precautionary step back, "you guys are done...right?"
"Absolutely."
"Okay, then is it weird? It's weird, isn't it?"
"Excuse me, ma'am?" came a pained voice from the ground near your feet, followed by a gentle tug on your pant leg. "I think I'm bleeding again."
"In a minute," you replied blankly, staring at Sam with wide eyes and at a complete loss for what to say to him. The two of you had been playful and flirty for a couple of months now, but you had no idea that he was taking it seriously. He was right in a way, it was a little weird, with him being one of both yours and Steve's best friends.
"But I think you should look," the man interrupted again.
"I said in a min-" you stopped, finally looking and seeing that the agent was right; he needed some fairly immediate attention to stop the blood now running from his wound. "Oh, shit! Oh, I'm sorry, yeah, I've got it, just lay still." Your hands danced over him and stopped the bleeding quickly, but you turned to Sam with an expression that had him turning tail to run. "You're trouble, Wilson, and I don't know if I'm ready to deal with that again."
~~~
The next mission was called almost immediately after the first, giving the team barely any time to prepare much less be able to recover from the first fight. Steve dropped himself into the seat next to you in the conference room, pulling out his tablet to go over the plans for when you arrived on site.
"(Y/N), I think you and I should pair up for this one," he said plainly, his focus on the materials in front of him. "I'm gonna put Sam with Clint, but they'll be on stand-by if we need them."
"Okay, no problem. Shoot me some details."
"That doesn't bother you?" he mumbled, finally glancing up at you for a brief second, and barely enough for you to even catch. He was egging you on, and it didn't escape your sight.
"I don't follow?"
"It doesn't bother you to be apart from Sam? You two sure seem to have built quite the relationship. As a team...I mean."
"Yes, we have. Is that a problem?"
The defensive posture from Steve was immediate, dropping the tablet onto the table with a slam against the glass top. He turned his seat towards you and sat straight, looking at you with a frustration that he never used around you before, and you weren't sure what he would do with it. "Not at all. I just don't want this...whatever it is, to interfere with the mission. We're going undercover, and I can't risk you breaking our aliases over your new boyfriend."
His tone set off a fire within you that you hadn't felt in months; he was playing with a part of you that had been kept silent for a long time now and was just begging to come out. You stood and pushed your chair back with your foot, sending it to hit the wall behind you. He stood in kind, but his confidence seemed to be wavering in comparison.
"I'm more than happy to work with you on this mission. I will play whatever role you need me to so that we're successful. But understand this," you paused with a deep breath and a long step forward to stand toe-to-toe, "what takes place in my personal life has no bearing on it, or on you. As far as I'm concerned, I could be fucking Sam Wilson in the middle of the battlefield and other than possibly being in your way, it would be none of your business, Steve."
You saw the shudder course through him at the mental image you had provided, giving him a complacent smile as you waited for his reply. "So he is your boyfriend then?" he asked, his angry stature beginning to falter. "You and Sam?"
"Tell me, how's Sharon, Cap?"
His mouth hung open at your question, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything when you spun on your heel and made a quick exit. Steve wanted to chase after you and continue; to explain himself and diffuse the situation, but his feet wouldn't move. He desperately wanted to follow you, to tell you that they hadn't been together for months and that they wouldn't be at any time in the future because he couldn't stop thinking about you. He realized the depth of his mistake, though he knew that your answer of maybe forgiving him someday had yet to happen, and with each passing day it seemed less likely; now he had all but sealed his fate to never earn it.
It didn't mean that he wasn't going to try.
~~~
"So, when do you guys fly out?"
"In an hour," you sighed, still frustrated by your conversation with Steve which was completely evident to Sam as you slammed your belongings into your pack with a little too much enthusiasm. The force jostled the bag enough to go tumbling onto the floor at your feet, answered with a loud groan and a harsh toss of it back onto your bed.
"For how long?"
"Could be a day or two, or a month or two, I don't know, Sam."
Sam furrowed his brow and turned away, taking a few pacing steps at your side with a contemplative look in his eyes. He paused and turned to you with a cross of his arms tightly over his chest; you knew where his mind was going before he had even said any more.
"Steve is terrible at undercover. Anything beyond that stupid hat and sunglasses, and he's a mess. Why didn't he pick one of us to do this instead? Clint and Nat are ridiculously better spies than either of you."
"I'm not sure", you lied, knowing full well why. "Guess we'll have to wait and see. Oh, and thanks for that little insult by the way. I can be a spy."
"Your cover is a doctor, isn't it?" he smirked.
"Maybe..."
"Wow, (Y/N), those acting lessons Fury put us through really paid off," Sam mumbled before hopping back and away from the harsh swing of your arm. "Hey, watch it!" He quickly decided that it was probably much safer to stand at a little bit of a distance to watch you finish your packing. You could feel his eyes on you but you weren't sure if you wanted to acknowledge it or not, and not sure if you were ready for the conversation that you knew he wanted to have.
"When you get back, I'm taking you out."
"Was that a question? That really didn't feel like a question."
Sam bolstered his courage, which he rarely needed to do around you, and moved to your side to take your arm with a gentle turn of you towards him. You could see the nervousness in his expression and that he couldn't think of what to say; if you would have looked, you might have even seen his heart beating frantically against his chest.
A final step closed the space between you to nearly nothing, requiring you to look up to keep your eyes locked on his and the intense stare they were giving, the deep brown of them now almost black and completely mesmerizing. As your chin raised to him, he seized his opportunity, cautiously leaning down to meet your lips, gently at first to be sure you didn't want to push him away. When you didn't deny him and when he felt your hand against the back of his neck, his arms were immediately wrapped around your waist and lifting you from the ground to hold you tightly to him. Your brought your legs up around him and took his face into your hands, moving your lips perfectly against his to allow your tongues to get the first taste of each other that you now realized how much you had desperately needed.
You felt Sam's body begin to tense beneath you and his kiss deepened, pulling you so tight that it made it hard to breathe, though he was already leaving you breathless. He spun you around and laid you on your bed with a sweep of his arm to clear your packed belongings onto the floor. He stood silently and looked down at you, taking in a view that he had waited to see for too long, seeing you looking back with a wanting and need that made his knees weak and his breath caught in his throat. When he couldn't take it even one more second, his body was sinking you into the mattress beneath it.
"Doesn't feel like a question to me," he hummed against your mouth as your hands tore away his shirt, then slid down his chest and across his tight abdomen to work on his belt. He pulled back and paused, lifting a hand to lay over yours; he was waiting for you to give him permission, or for you to have a chance to turn back. As soon as your words were spoken, you both knew that more lives than just your own were about to change.
"No, there's definitely no question here, Sam. This is about you and me, no one else."
~~~
Once you had taken the first step onto the quinjet, you could tell that Steve sensed a change. He watched you with a fierce intensity even as you completed the most mundane tasks of pre-flight; securing your gear and doing inventory of equipment that he couldn't have cared less about. His eyes never wandered as you took your seat next to him in the co-pilot chair, waiting until you finally looked in his direction to break his concentration.
"You ready, Cap?"
"Nope," he breathed in a whisper, fluidly tracing his fingers over the controls. "How about you?"
"I'm finally ready," you offered with a small nod, in a stark contrast that created a stab of pain in his chest. He knew that just those few words meant so much more than the mission; he knew that you had finally broken free of him. He also knew that he was so far from over you that he was suddenly concerned about his ability to complete this job with being so close to you every day.
Steve cleared his throat and put the jet in the air without a look back, and no look towards you for the entire flight. If you hadn't been so immersed in your own thoughts and in the memory of the last hour with Sam, you might have noticed. You replayed it over and over during the trip, committing every word spoken, every touch, and every part of his face to your memory to keep you going for what was about to become a two-month mission that would test the limits of your relationship with Steve, professional or otherwise.
Part 3
"You look like hell, Wilson." Tony stood at the door to the kitchen, his hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee, his hair still slightly messy from sleep as he watched his teammate struggle to keep his eyes open.
"It's 4am, Stark. No one looks good at 4am. Not even you."
"I look fantastic, make no mistake," he replied with a smirk, taking a careful sip of his drink. "I get up at 4 everyday. What's your excuse?"
"Couldn't sleep. But let's not make this into something, alright?" Sam stood from his chair and crossed the room with shuffling feet, bumping his toe into the corner of the table with a few choice curses. "I knew this was a bad idea," he grumbled, hopping up to sit on the counter so he could inspect his injury.
"Then why didn't you stay in bed?"
"Not that. This whole undercover thing with (Y/N) and Steve. I knew it was a bad idea from day one. I can't think of anything else. I can't sleep. I can't understand what the hell is happening."
Tony grabbed a chair and spun it around, straddling the seat and resting his arms over its back, watching Sam continue to check his foot. "Oh, come on, I'm sure your toe is fine. But what's going on in your head? You let that girl in there, didn't you?"
"Yeah, well, I couldn't help it," he smiled. He pushed his hands against the counter top and dropped his feet to the ground, deciding that his toe would survive. He shook his head and turned to the cupboards, pulling out a cup but setting it down without filling it. "I just worry, ya know? Those two, working together, alone..."
"You don't trust her?"
"Oh, I trust her completely," Sam turned to him and nodded. "She's not the problem."
~~~
You and Steve had been working for hours on end, trying to teach him basic science terminology so that he could interact enough to be convincing. Your mission was to intercept work on a biological weapon, going undercover as geneticists to get inside the lab where it was being held. You had been in place with your aliases for just over a month now, with no sign of an end unless now you could get into the lab for the smash-and-grab type of mission that Steve was accustomed to and ready for; subtlety wasn't working. It was agreed that you would do most of the talking to get inside, but all it would take was one slip for everything to spiral out of control, and with it being only the two of you on this mission, there was no room for error or someone was getting hurt.
"Do you have any words with less syllables?"
"It's not like I'm making these up myself, Steve," you huffed, rubbing the fatigue from your stinging eyes. "You know what, we've been at this all day. Let's just call it a night. We don't have to be at the facility until noon so we can finish up before we go."
"Give me one more hour. I think I'm close to being passable."
You slid the tablet across the table and into his hands, standing with a pained stretch of your arms over your head with a long yawn. "Fine. One hour. No more." With a stern point, you crossed the small hotel room to the couch, dropping down heavily against the soft cushions and sinking deep within them. "Alright, from the top."
He began to rattle off words and definitions with barely the correct pronunciation, but you hadn't noticed. Within minutes, you were asleep; Steve asked how he was doing, and when the response never came, he laughed quietly at the sight of you. A few soft taps on the glass screen turned the tablet off, and he moved to stand at your side.
"(Y/N)?"
Nothing.
"(Y/N), I'm going to take you to your room," he said quietly, not wanting to act without warning as to not startle you. One hand slid gently beneath your legs and the other around your back, pulling you to his chest securely as he walked to your bed. It wasn't a purposeful choice, but he couldn't help but focus on the clean smell of your hair and the softness of your skin against his. He breathed you in, forgetting himself for a moment as he reminisced about the last time he had held you this close. The regret and embarrassment was immediate, and he wanted nothing more than to beg you to forgive him and to allow him another chance.
Steve laid you on the bed slowly, pulling the blanket back to tuck you underneath. He sat on the edge next to you for the longest time, just watching you sleep, listening to the rhythm of your breathing that had always been so soothing to him in the middle of the night when he would wake with a nightmare. He cursed himself for being such an idiot, that he would think that anyone would ever be better for him than you, and that he was lucky just to be this close to you now.
Without a thought and without care, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. His body shuddered slightly at the sensation of connecting with you again, but it was quickly halted when you woke with a start.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he replied fearfully, backing away with his hands raised in front of him. "I wasn't thinking."
"Obviously," you snapped. "You can't do shit like that, Steve. You don't get to do that anymore."
"I know. I know, I messed up, and I don't deserve-"
"No, you don't."
Steve stood and backed away a few steps, lowering his hands and diving them into his pockets, his eyes on his feet to avoid the burning glare that he knew he would see if he looked up. "There's no chance-"
"None."
All he could do was nod sadly and turn to leave. His hand rested on the door handle, trying to think of anything that he could say to you, but his mind was blank. You were so definitive with your rejection that it had shocked him to his core; he had never stopped to think that you would actually deny him so succinctly. Finally opening the door, he paused at the threshold, finally catching your gaze just before it closed behind him.
"I really am sorry."
~~~
The next morning when you woke, you laid in bed for an extra hour, struggling to will yourself out of it, knowing that Steve was on the other side of the door and that there was an uncomfortable conversation to be had. You wanted to call Sam. You wanted to tell him what had happened and to get his advice, but contact was too risky and you were on your own.
With a quiet grumble, you rolled over and pushed yourself up to standing, squinting out the window at the bright day, cursing the sun for making everything look so damn cheerful. You moved into the bathroom to clean up, taking far more time than you normally would, trying to gather your thoughts before seeing your roommate. Finally, you had nothing left to do, so you opened the door and joined him, doing your best to keep things business as usual.
"Have you been practicing?"
"Yep, I think I can understand enough for us to get in, but you still need to carry the conversation until I can disable the security around it," he nodded, standing at the small kitchenette counter top with a fresh cup of coffee for you, holding it out expectantly. "Don't worry, it's safe."
"By telling me that, it means that the idea of poisoning me crossed your mind, and that you knew I would expect it," you smirked, taking the cup from his hand. "But I need this bad enough to risk it."
Steve turned and leaned back against the small refrigerator, sipping his own drink as he watched you review the notes one last time before leaving. When his cup was empty, he tossed it into the sink and prepared to go, putting on the lab coat that you had to have specially made just to fit his large frame. "I can't wait to get rid of this thing. I stand out like a giant sore thumb."
"I don't know," you glanced up and back down, taking the final drink from your cup, "I think it looks good. You look smart."
"I didn't look smart before?"
"That's not what I meant."
"No, but it's true," he sighed, "you're smarter than me and it's no secret. It's okay if you agree."
"Hold on," you paused, finally putting the tablet down to give him your full attention, "Steve, where is that coming from?"
"Clearly, I'm an idiot. I let you go, didn't I?"
You shook your head and crossed the room towards him, grabbing your own coat and shoving your arms inside, feeling anger that he was ruining what was a tolerable morning together, and that he was losing his focus already. "You didn't let me go. You shoved me away and I left because you couldn't keep it in your pants. If I hadn't found out, would you have ever told me? Would you have ever been a man and broken it off with me with a shred of decency, Steve?"
"Yes, I think so."
"You think so?" you snapped, your voice growing louder. "You think so? How very big of you. What the hell happened to you that you've become this person? When I look at you now, you're nothing but a shell of the Steve Rogers that I loved. You're a stranger to me."
"That makes two of us," he whispered, opening the door to wait for you to pass under his arm. You handed him his glasses and he slowly slipped them on, giving his pockets a small tap to be sure that he would be ready if a fight broke out and that everything he needed was there. "You ready?"
"I'm ready to get this done. I just want to get back to our own lives, and back to Sam."
~~~
"Wilson, we gotta go," Tony called out to him, peeking his head through the gym door. "Things didn't go as planned and Steve needs us."
Sam frantically unwrapped the tape from his hands and cast it aside as he ran, leaving everything behind to follow his teammate towards the hangar bay. His heart began to pound so loudly that it was muffling his hearing; he shook his head to try to clear it, but to no avail. "What about (Y/N)? Is she okay?"
"I didn't get any details, just that we need to move."
~~~
"(Y/N), can you move?" Steve asked frantically, kneeling on the sterile white floor next to you while you held pressure on the fresh stab wound in your side that was spilling a pool of blood on the bright tile. "I'm going to carry you, okay? Just wrap your arms around me." His hands slid beneath you and held you with a firm grip, bringing you to his chest. He cringed at the sharp cry you let out with the shift, but he didn't slow.
"I'm sorry, I should've seen him," he apologized into your hair, pressing his lips against it. "I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough."
"It's okay, Cap," you hissed, clenching your teeth tightly with each bouncing step of his run, "not your fault. I wasn't fast enough either and got in the way. I don't think he hit anything vital." You felt another kiss against your head and sighed, wanting to know what was playing out in his mind, but not wanting to know at the same time. In a weak attempt to divert your mind from the pain that was beginning to turn to numbness from blood loss, you couldn't stop yourself from engaging him in another uncomfortable discussion.
"Don't do that, Steve. I think I know what's going on in that head of yours."
"I can't help it."
"You have to. I...I don't love you anymore. I mean...not like that." You felt his pace slow just a fraction of a beat at your words, and you immediately regretted them. "I'm sorry, that was harsh."
"It was the truth. You've got Sam now, and you have no reason to feel that way towards me ever again." He charged through the front doors of the building, standing in place and searching the grounds frantically until he saw a vehicle sitting empty. His steps were long and incredibly fast, feeling yourself being set gently into the passenger seat as you grew weaker and knowing that unconsciousness was close behind. Steve jumped into driver's seat and reached over, holding pressure over the wound that you were too tired to maintain.
"I've got you, (Y/N), okay? Just focus on staying awake for me."
"The weapon..."
"Don't worry about that right now. Tony and I can go back and finish-"
You reached into your jacket pocket, slowly pulling out the vial, leaving a coating of your blood over the label and hazing out the words typed across it. "It's right here."
"Sweetheart," he smiled with awe in his eyes, trying to keep them on the road as he pushed the car to its limits, "I will never doubt you again. I really am an idiot."
~~~
For the second time, you woke with a start at feeling lips against yours. This time, when your eyes opened, you saw Sam smiling down at you with a long sigh of relief before kissing you again. "You scared the hell outta me, and that's not okay."
"I wasn't exactly calm about it either," you groaned, wincing at the burning in your throat as you spoke. "How long?"
"You were in surgery for about six hours. They just let me in to see you now."
"Steve?"
"He knows that you're okay," he nodded, gently taking a seat at the edge of your bed. He took your hand and laid it over his lap, taking care to not move the monitors or tubing attached to it. "He's with Tony at the CDC trying to dismantle that thing. I told him that he had no business here so I think he's trying to make himself useful."
"Oh, Sam, you didn't. He knows where we stand. He knows now."
"Now?"
You hadn't realized your error when the words had left your lips, but the way he was looking at you made you wish that you could take them back. "We talked about it...actually, we fought about it. I made it very clear."
"Before or after he kissed you?"
"After," you exhaled quietly. "So, he told you."
A weak smile crossed Sam's lips and his eyes brightened just a bit, doing his best to put you at ease, "yeah, he did. Barely even got out a 'hello' before he was spilling his guts everywhere. He seems to have grown a guilty conscience in all of this." He reached up and pushed a strand of your hair slowly behind your ear, his smile growing even more. "But I was very clear too."
"About what?"
"That I don't care if he's a super soldier, and I'm not. I'll kick his ass if he tries anything like that again."
You couldn't stop the smile from slowly spreading across your expression, followed by the snort that grew into a pained laugh, wincing and holding your side as you tried unsuccessfully to stop it. Tears built up in your eyes, both from the pain and from the ridiculousness of what Sam had just said. "Oh, that's funny! Oh my god, it's too much!"
"Seriously? That's how it is? I'm trying to be honorable here!" A few minutes went by and your laughter continued. All he could do was fold his arms tightly over his chest and look away, growing more and more hurt by your lack of faith.
"I could do it," he grumbled to himself, "I could kick his ass if I wanted to. There's no need to be so mean about it."