Here I am again, laying in my bed, wide awake. 20 minutes ago, I was falling asleep in the lounge while trying to watch a movie with Sam.
Maybe it's my room? Could it be my room?
No, that's stupid. It's such a nice room. Tony really spared no expense when it came to living quarters for us, it's all very generous. I've tried not to junk it up too much and keep it clean and neat. I look around at the few pieces on the wall and agree with myself. The shelf of Funko Pops might be questionable but they're in good order. I am Monica, after all.
Okay... so should I do this? It's too early, I haven't really given myself a proper chance to get sleepy again.
Jumping up from my bed, I've got the answer. I walk to my bathroom and run hot bath water. This is going to do it, I know it. It's sweet of Steve to offer this but what does it say about me if I take him up on it?
As I'm slipping down into the water that's way hotter than I intended it to be - because obviously I am distracted - I wonder what does it say if I don't take him up on his offer?
If I keep showing up places looking like hell from not sleeping, he's going to feel bad that I don't want to hop into bed with him. I don't want him to take it personally. I can't believe I just thought about "hopping into bed" with Captain America, America's original sweetheart.
Let's be honest here, Steve isn't in a habit of saying things just to say them. I know he meant it.
I groan out loud at myself before concentrating on being quiet and trying to listen to the soft music I put on. I'm going to try the bath first. One step at a time.
I sit up to reach for some epsom salts and lavender to add to my water before sinking back down in and turning the jets on. Would you look at that? - My feet need a little work. I realize I'm playing a game against myself. I'm finding that I'm consciously thinking about Steve possibly seeing my feet... as if I've already made up my mind that I'm sleeping in his room tonight.
This internal tug of war is going to be the end of me.
Might as well shave while I'm down there. And good thing I keep nail polish next to the tub so I can paint my toenails too.
I shouldn't care what Steve thinks of my toenails. I shouldn't.
But I suddenly do.
Hair up in a messy bun, cute pajamas on, toes painted, legs shaved, I step out into the hallway and walk just a few feet away to the other side of the hallway where Steve's door is. Oh did I mention I also moisturized and brushed my teeth? That includes mouthwash and floss, by the way.
Bloody hell, what is wrong with me?
I can see Steve's light is on because the crack under his door is glowing. I raise my hand to knock but it's like my arm is frozen in place. I realize though that I shouldn't stand out here in my pajamas too long because I wonder what this will look like if someone sees me in my pajamas heading into Steve's room. So I force myself to knock quickly and quietly.
"It's open," I hear from inside, his voice is muffled but sounds pleasant.
I open the door a crack to look inside and wave. He's sitting at his desk in a gray sweatshirt and jeans and the tv is on but I realize he's probably only got it on for background noise. "May I?"
"Yes, yes, come on in," he waves with a smile. So I quickly enter and close the door behind me. I find myself standing there, smiling, but not moving because I just have no clue how to proceed with this unusual new arrangement. "Have a seat," he says, surprisingly excitedly. I sit on the edge of the bed and he gets up. "I'm uh... not ready for bed yet but I can get ready."
"No, that's okay. I don't want to interrupt your usual flow. I'm not here to cramp your style. What are you still doing up, anyway?"
"Sketching," he says, nodding to the sketchpad on his desk.
I smile bigger than I mean to. "Can I see?"
He suddenly looks bashful. "Sure, yeah." He reaches for it and hands it to me.
The page is splashed with funny little cartoon characters that are really well done. Some are people, some are animals... they're exaggerated and quite amusing. "Steve, these are amazing."
He turns away a bit, "They're just doodles really."
"Don't discredit yourself, they're great." I grin and hand him the sketchpad back. "It won't bother me if you keep working," I say. "Are you sure you're okay with this?" I ask as I look at his bed.
"Y/N, we both have the same problem and we both trust each other... I don't see any reason not to try."
"Okay," I smile.
"Let's get you comfortable," he says as he starts to pull the comforter and sheet down for me. The scent of fresh fabric softener is in my nose again as the sheet flies past me and I'm wondering if he changed the sheets just today because he knew I might show up. I shake my slippers off and climb into Steve's bed. Wow, even thinking that just sounds so... unreal and maybe scandalous. But this isn't like that.
Steve comes to my side of the bed and fluffs the pillow before my head can even hit it and then he tucks me in. He actually tucks me in. I giggle like a little kid, shuffling my feet around until I get them positioned in just the right place. I can't help but smile. He turns off the lamp next to me and walks around to sit down on the other side of the bed, leaning against the headboard and propping his knees up so he can rest the sketchbook on them.
"Is the light too much?" he asks, looking down at me, concerned.
I reach a paw out from under the comforter to pat his elbow, "It's fine, I promise." And it really is, it's soft and dim in his room and I feel so incredibly relaxed. Though he's not touching me, I can feel a subtle heat coming off his body and even though I'm in bed with a person I'm normally just casual friends with, something feels so intimate about this and so... special. Okay, we might be better friends than just casual - we probably are, actually. He might, in fact, be the Avenger I'm closest to. I pull my arm out of the covers, the one that's closest to him, and I fold it up under my head and rest my cheek on it. "Do you mind if I watch?" I whisper.
"No, not at all," he says gently, looking down at me, "but it's not really all that interesting."
"Steve," I say, dragging out the "E" sound. "Stop being so hard on yourself and, by the way, you are one of the most interesting people I know."
"Okay, chief," he grins at me. He notices a hair that has worked its way out of my ponytail holder and onto my forehead and he reaches down to brush it away, slowly brushing his thumb over my forehead. The warm sensation makes me want to close my eyes and they do become a little heavier after that. But I'm somewhat determined to watch Steve work. I love the look on his face as he concentrates and the skewed rectangular reflection of the white pages against the blue of his eyes. He squints once in a while as he works, his dark eyelashes fluttering momentarily.
After a little while, he slides his legs down onto the bed and covers a yawn with his forearm. He looks tired but maybe he's nervous about getting into bed.
"Sleepy?" I ask, my voice now sounding like I've already been asleep myself.
"Getting there," he smiles. "Maybe I ought to get changed."
I laugh to myself with my eyes closed, "Will you still respect me in the morning?"
Steve laughs, too, as he gets up off the bed, "Always."
He shuffles off to the bathroom to change and brush his teeth and suddenly, my eyelids weigh one ton each. The bed is soft and smells good. My hand lays where his body was because it's warm.
I wake up in the dark, not initially remembering that I'm not in my own bed and I'm feeling a bit panicked. My head lifts off the pillow as I lay on my side but something kind of heavy keeps me in place. "You okay?" Steve's whisper cuts through the darkness.
"Yeah," I sigh, "sorry to wake you."
"It's okay," he says, sounding like he's smiling slightly. He pulls me a little closer to him and we're facing each other. My arms are folded to his chest and he leans his chin back so my head fits underneath. Before I drift back to sleep, I breathe in the smell of his skin, clean and warm.
The morning isn't as awkward as I'd imagined it might be. Steve wakes up for his run and lets me know he's leaving. He says I can stay in bed if I want to but I think maybe I better get back to my own room before anyone else wakes up.
Night number two, I'm trying to talk myself out of it again. This is by far the stupidest thing I've ever done, with my previous record being joining the Avengers. My friends and family thought I was pretty crazy for that one.
I'm sitting in the lounge with Sam, Wanda, Natasha, and Steve and I'm feeling tired. I stand up and give an overly gestured wave, "Y/L/N out," I say. "Goodnight everyone."
I'm just down the hall, barely out of sight of them when I hear Steve excuse himself to go to bed. I turn around when I hear quiet jogging footsteps and there he is, catching up to me. "Did you want to--?" he whispers, trailing off. His face looks a bit hopeful.
"Steve, are you sure? I did wake you last night—"
"It's okay," he says, catching his breath a bit. "It was no big deal, I fall back asleep fast."
"Well.... Okay," I smile. I feel so embarrassed to need him this much.
Steve walks me back to the living quarters and says, "Just come over whenever you're ready." He turns towards his room but then back to me. "Wait... would you rather I," he looks around at all the closed doors and starts to lower his voice, "would you rather I come over there?"
"It's fine either way, Steve. You're more than welcome."
"I guess that would be the most fair," he says. "Okay, I'll be there in a few minutes."
I'm back in my room getting ready for bed in a flash, not wanting to have a toothbrush hanging out of my mouth as I answer the door. I pull it off in time to stand over my bed and stretch the covers back so we can climb in and he's still not here. I suddenly think he might be taking his time so he doesn't walk in on me changing. Kudos on that one, Steve.
Hearing the knock finally, I scurry to the door and let him in. Tonight's choice of sleepwear is a white t-shirt and blue plaid pajama bottoms that make his eyes shine extra blue when he gives me one of those million dollar smiles.
"Which side?" he asks, pointing to the bed.
"I actually sleep on the same side as I did last night normally," I assure him and he walks to the far side of the bed. Tonight feels more awkward because we're getting into bed at the same time. I tell myself it won't be any different than it was before though.
He's down on the bed before I am because I stop to charge my cell phone. His arm is outstretched near my pillow and I crawl into it as he tries to throw the covers over me with his other hand. His warmth is soothing—
"OH!" he shouts. He laughs at me with his mouth wide open. "Your feet are freezing!"
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stick them on you," I apologize, trying not to laugh.
A chuckle is coming from deep in his chest, "It's okay." He sits up and reaches deep under the covers to fish for my feet, taking them one by one and rubbing them between his hands to warm them. I laugh and raise an eyebrow at him as he works, "You keep that up and you're never going to get rid of me."
"I'm not trying to get rid of you," he says as he keeps working but doesn't look back at me.
Not going to read into that. Nope.
Ughhhh, what did that mean? I feel like I need to know.
No, no... no.
"You shouldn't feed stray dogs," I say.
He just laughs and tucks my feet under his leg before he lays back, fixing the covers. He sighs happily as his head hits the pillow and we're nestled in. Under the covers, his hand brushes mine and instead of moving it away, he wraps his hand around mine, rubbing his thumb along my pinky finger. I don't know what I'm doing but I bring my thumb up to do the same to his pinky finger. After a minute, I say, "I usually sleep on my side." I turn into his arm and wrap it with both of mine.
"Okay," he says, "nothing you do will bother me."
I find a place for my chin on his shoulder and whisper goodnight.
The next night, I find myself back in Steve's room. I haven't yet had to use the keypad to get in. He's flipping through a book and watching The Tonight Show when I arrive. I crawl into the crook of his arm and he pulls me to him, putting the book down on the nightstand. "You want me to turn it off?" he asks.
"No, that's okay, I love Jimmy," I smile.
I could be wrong but he seems disappointed. Is it possible for Steve to be jealous? Eh, he's not the jealous type. Should I have not used the word love? Maybe it was a bit strong. I'm sure it's nothing at all. And maybe this is why I don't sleep... because I can't turn this friggin' brain off.
We laugh a little before I rest my head against his chest and close my eyes. In an act that seems to come out of nowhere, he leans his cheek down on my head and says, "Goodnight, baby."
I am nearly asleep when this happens and I can only get myself to whisper "goodnight" as my brain processes the ramifications of what just happened. I can only come to the conclusion he doesn't realize he called me "baby."