A/N: Hey guys! Sorry about the wait on this one. I went to Seattle to see Taylor Swift and so this imagine is powered by song 3 on the new album, I Did Something Bad, on repeat. It really is fitting and I love the song so much so I'll add it here in case anyone wants to listen while they read!
POV CHANGES ARE IN THE FIRST PARTS OF EVERY SCENE CHANGE AFTER THE THREE DOTS...
This was a request from Livi_Wolf, and I loved it SO much so I went sorta crazy with it... almost 7,000 words, but it was so much fun to write! Thank you to her and everyone else who has been so patient about updates and seeing their requests come to life. They're all coming, I promise :) These each take me about five hours or more to write/edit, and I'm working and going to school full time so I appreciate patience in getting them published! I want to make sure I'm writing quality stuff for you all because I love ya so much!
Thanks again for requesting this one, Livi_Wolf! Hope you like it, guys.
Winnie
Words: 6.5K
Have you ever completely lost yourself?
Ever felt like a ghost in a stranger's body?
Have you ever been completely betrayed by every single person you've ever known?
...Yeah, sure, me neither.
This is Agent Y/N, also known as Mirage. And this is my final HYDRA mission report.
DATE: July 17, 2020
TIME: 23:45
LOCATION: Vlorë, Albania
CASE NUMBER: 67892
AGENT: Y/L/N <MIRAGE>
"Target is standing near stairwell; dressed in all black."
From behind the mask of the colored contact lenses my eyes scan towards the staircase. Leaning slightly against the wall there rests a man with a full glass of whiskey. He's not as tall as the other men he speaks with, but he still manages to look downwards at them from the tip of his upturned nose.
"Got him," I mutter into the surface of my martini. While everyone else at the party drinks freely from the open tab bar, he's clearly sober. He's the type to always be in control. He doesn't want to lose himself to any sort of vice.
Yet here I am, trying to do just that.
I'm going to play him like a violin and make it look so easy. And by the time the sun rises over this little country tomorrow he'll be lying dead in his hotel bathtub and I'll be halfway to Spain for my next mission.
Here goes nothing.
The target's stormy grey eyes dart amongst the crowd. I shift a bit out of his view. I swallow a mouthful of alcohol, tasting the dry vodka burn the back of my throat. I fall slightly into the shadows where none of the exquisitely dressed partygoers can spot me. Then, eyes locked onto the target, I begin to rifle through the files my brain has memorized: the ones that told me everything I needed to know about this man in order to get what I need. This brain and body have beaten hard enough to remember everything it ever sees: which, after the life I've had, is far more of a curse than a blessing.
The target's a control freak. My brain flips through facts: forty-seven, divorced twice, relapsed alcoholic...
My deep concentration on the task is suddenly broken by a voice from the void.
"Fancy seeing you here."
My body halts to an immediate stop. As if put on ice my features all freeze. I don't turn to acknowledge the man who speaks to me. I know I won't have to for him to respond...
"It's been a hot minute since I've seen you. Not gonna lie, you've looked better." The slight chuckle in his voice sends a shiver down my spine. Anger? No, jealously. I'm jealous that he's laughing and speaking so freely: the Winter Soldier, unlike me, is free.
I turn towards James Barnes indignantly. He doesn't expect me to strike him: he stands freely and at ease in his suit and loosened red bow-tie. I really should deck him across the face. But I won't—he's my friend, even if he left me hanging out to dry after he escaped this life without me at his side... unlike what he promised me in those moments of clarity before they'd wipe and scramble his mind.
"I can't promise you that nothing bad will happen to you tonight. You're on their radar now," I skip straight to the point in saying. Winter's an idiot if he thinks that after all this time apart I'd risk a HYDRA beating just to spare his ass...
Okay, maybe I would. Winter's the only family I've ever had. But it's been two years: he doesn't know that for a fact.
The small tilt of his lip behind the beard that's grown there is enough to tell me he has faith in my friendship still. "If that was true, you'd already have beaten me black and blue."
"And knowing you, you'd pull back." The only time the Winter Soldier ever hit me was in brainwashed combat. After his escape and when I was put onto the field to track him down, it took me nearly shooting his best friend Steve Rogers in the back for Winter to finally do something. Even then, he only knocked me down. It was heartwarming yet infuriating to think that he wouldn't give me the satisfaction of fighting back, so that I could pummel my anger into something—anger that stemmed from the fact that he got a "Get outta jail" card, and I was still HYDRA snatched.
"'Course I would. I'd never hurt you." His smile is gone as he looks into my face now seriously. I watch his eyes flick slightly to the side and I know something's about to go down. "Please trust me on that."
I could've seen it coming from a mile away if I wasn't so distracted at seeing Winter's face again. The man who became my brother, my ally, and my only friend within my shady HYDRA life was back again: and I was blinded to the little dart filled with poison that zipped from the ceiling heights and attached into my exposed neck.
The prick quickly heats up into a burning rash. My legs melt into jelly, but before I can fall James was stepping closer to catch me.
"Easy, easy..." is all I can hear ringing in my ears. "We're takin' you home, Mi-Mi."
...
DATE: July 18, 2020
TIME: 07:56
LOCATION: UNKNOWN, NEW YORK
AGENT: Y/L/N <MIRAGE>
When I wake up the next morning it's the last place I imagined I'd ever open my eyes. I'm in a plush white bed beneath a window that reveals a gorgeous summer sunrise. My eyes ache from the heavy pull of the poison I'd been unwillingly fed, and my veins seem to throb hungrily with its absence.
"Sleep well?"
I startle at the sound. "Jesus, Winter. You don't think to announce yourself?" I drop my hand from where it's latched onto my hip for a missing weapon since I heard his deep voice. I've been put into night clothes—something else I thought I'd never have.
"Sorry. I was just in your kitchen trying to set up the coffee pot." Winter scrunches his nose up as he seems to get a tickle from one of the longer locks of his hair. He's leaning against one of the bedroom walls near a clock that reads the time. He looks over me and my current drowsy state on the bed with a bit of palpable worry. "You okay? Sorry we had to do things this way, but I just... I had to make good on my promise to you and get you out of there, too." He smiles softly. "Besides, I was pretty lost without my best girl."
"I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me," I joke dryly.
Winter sighs. "Y/N," he says my name and I feel my eyebrows wrinkle. We never call each other by our real names: we didn't even know them until he escaped with the Avengers and became a wanted man. In HYDRA, we were different. We were the Winter Soldier and Mirage: Winter and Mi-Mi to him and me. "I had to go back under for a while. I'm sorry I didn't come around sooner. But my head's all fixed now, for the most part, and now that the world is settling down a bit, I finally found you again." He has come to sit on the edge of my oversized, much too fluffy bed. "Are you okay?" he repeats the question again.
"No one followed us?" I decide to avoid his question.
He lets out a deep breath. "Your trackers were removed. You were heavily sedated, thank god, or it would've hurt like a bitch."
Couldn't have been worse than my punishment I got from my handlers after I let Winter get away, I think to myself selfishly.
"You're not answering me," Winter says softly. "Are you alright with all of this? Do you need anything?"
"As long as we're safe," I say, "I'm gonna be okay."
Winter smiles gently. He reaches out a hand—the new metal one that is flecked with bits of gold—and I'm taken aback. "It took a while to find you, kid, but I'm sure as hell glad we did."
"Who's we?" I repeat.
Winter grins with pride. "Our new team: the Avengers."
...
DATE: September 3, 2020
TIME: 21:22
LOCATION: ANKARA, TURKEY
MISSION NUMBER: 142B
AGENT: CAPTAIN ROGERS <CAPTAIN AMERICA>
"I don't know if this is a good idea, Buck." I look behind my shoulder twice for safety to make sure the woman in question isn't around to hear what I'm going to say. "I'm not sure she's ready."
Bucky grins—not a single trace of unsureness on his face. "Y/N's always ready for anything: that's one of the reasons I love 'er." He tosses me my shield and keeps his eyes trained on my face. "It's been almost two months since we brought her in. HYDRA didn't have her wiped like they did me, and she's been kicking ass in training. Everyone trusts her." Bucky pauses between checking ammunition chambers of his guns. "Well, everyone except for you."
"Listen—I've tried with her," I tiredly argue with my best friend. "She just has no ambition to become a true member of this team. Even after everything you went through you found your place here."
Bucky grunts, "Yeah, after the Princess unscrambled my brain. Y/N doesn't have a reset button. She's gotta do that herself." He stops abruptly in his speech. Me being me, well, I don't exactly catch his social cue in time to realize I should stop, too.
"She's cold. Everyone's trying to get to know her: make her feel at home. I'm sorry, Buck, but Y/N's just not fitting in as quickly as you said she would."
And just like that, I'm thrown onto my ass. My legs are kicked out under me by a sweeping fighting stick and I'm on the floor of the jet bunker next to Bucky's booted feet. Bucky steps back to watch the following interaction curiously.
Agent Y/N—Mirage, or Mi-Mi as Bucky calls the lady—is standing above me with her baton and a deep scowl across her usually brooding face. Her hair is pulled back in two buns and her lips are painted dark purple. The shape of her eyes is altered with how she scowls at me, but she's still just as breathtaking.
"Listen up, Captain," she growls lowly. "I owe you nothing. I'm on this team because I'm repaying a debt, and your stupid director thinks I'm too dangerous to leave. Don't let me prove him right by kicking your uptight ass back to 1945."
Bucky clears his throat as a warning.
Y/N looks down at where she holds the end of her baton against my chest. She steps back one pace and the pressure between my clavicles dissipates.
"I was trained to kill, not make friends with other freaks." Y/N clutches the baton with a tight fist. "So forgive me for not inviting you to any fuckin' tea parties." Her voice is sarcasm-heavy and lays like itchy wool on my ears. When she turns to leave she purposely doesn't leave me any room for reply: not that I'd know what to say anyway.
Bucky chuckles as he comes over to help me back to my feet. "That was funny," he comments as if she's only jesting.
I grunt. "Yeah—hilarious."
Sam's footsteps come down the hall towards us by the bunk beds. "You guys ready? Everyone's on board with the plan."
I look over to Bucky one last time. "You sure she's ready for this? We can push back her first mission."
"No," Bucky says. "That's not my decision to make. If Y/N says she's ready, then she's ready. Besides, it'll be fun taking down a HYDRA base with her: a bit of turned tables." He tightens his leather gloves.
I don't exactly trust Y/N, but I trust my friend: so I have to go with what he says despite the fact that my head is screaming that it's a bad idea. "Alright. Let's go."
...
DATE: September 3, 2020
TIME: 22:39
LOCATION: ANKARA, TURKEY
MISSION NUMBER: 142B
AGENT: Y/L/N <MIRAGE>
Life really does come full circle.
I remember this place. I remember every place I've ever been. This secret little HYDRA hideaway in the middle of the Turkish capital city is someplace I recall with no fondness. I'd been dragged here on two occasions. The first time was to rest after I'd murdered two British dignitaries on holiday with their families. The second time was on route to finding a runaway Winter Soldier, my friend James Barnes, and I'd failed at catching him before Captain America found him in Romania. This was where Hansel Bratton first branded me with the star: telling me that for every time I came in second place behind the Captain on this Winter-hunting path, I'd get another.
I let them give me eight: eight marks for the eight times I purposely let my James and his friends get away.
I wonder how much of this the Captain knows when he talks shit about me. What a goddamn idiot to keep blabbering while I was standing right behind his back. And now he's expecting me to cover his ass on this mission? He's lucky James cares about him so much, or I would've killed him a long time ago.
Lucky for him tonight, he's not the bastard I'm hunting.
I've left another trail of messy bodies in my path. The Captain sent me and the Scarlet Witch at the front of the pack. She uses her creepy powers to take out as many HYDRA agents as she can. I pick up her leftovers with my pistol and my baton, and Natasha Romanoff is right behind us to grab whatever's left. The Captain, James, and their sarcastic friend Sam Wilson have raided the place from the sky and are covering the top five floors while we deal with the lower levels.
"Any sign of Bratton?" James, or as he's known around here: Bucky, is speaking through the radio in my ear.
Sam replies, "Negative."
Nat, who's in a hallway with a dozen open doorways, replies, "Not here."
The witch Wanda lowers her glowing hands. We're left with a sea of red around us; blood drains from the half a dozen bodies we've just taken down in the last thirty seconds. She glances over to me and we share a soft nod.
"Are we sure he's even here?" The Captain is on the comm.
I step over a body. My boots are stained crimson. "He's here. He's always here." I look around the lobby of the discreet HYDRA building. No one from the outside would ever know that this was where one of the world's most evil humans resided: living behind the brick walls in a world with assassinations and death decrees.
Wanda sweeps her green eyes around. She must be seeing things with her powers now, because her pupils suddenly glow blood-red. I slowly drag out my batons and hold one sturdily in each fist.
Then, she says, "He's here." She moves her gaze my way. "He's coming, and he wants to see you."
"'Course he does," I grunt.
"No one do anything rash. We need him alive. We're on our way down," Steve Rogers says sternly over the radio.
Bitter and tired, I can't stop myself from snapping, "Sure, Cap, take your time—I've been wanting to add another star to my collection."
"What does that mean?" I hear Bucky question in my ear.
I don't have the heart to reply. It doesn't matter soon anyway, because Hansel Bratton is descending the staircase with a dozen agents at every side. I hold up a hand to keep Wanda from using any of her powers to make the agents go splat against the walls. She understands when she sees to little device Bratton holds up high: it looks like the remote trigger to a bomb. He pauses in the middle of the staircase so that the light from above his head creates a shadow around his face from the wide brim of his strangely stylish hat.
"Nice to see you again, Mirage." Bratton smiles. The wrinkled skin around his eyes grows deeper like rake marks in the sand that pull his eyebrows deeper into the sockets of his sunken eyes. "Come back for another one of my tattoos?" He goes on, "But it looks like you finally did what you were supposed to do and bring back our favorite soldier."
I step closer to the staircase. Everyone in the room responds by stiffening. Wanda raises her glowing hands and the agents cock their guns. Nat, who has come into the room, does the same.
"We're here to talk about the bomb." I narrow my eyes.
"Really? I'm surprised they sent you. You were never very good at interrogations. I was expecting to see the famous Captain America, or maybe the one in the gaudy red and gold suit."
"GAUDY? It's classy!" Stark shouts in our earpieces. He's off-site trying to diffuse the bomb secured to the underside of the bridge stretching from one side of the city to the other. He told us he'd give the cue as soon as it was safe to take down Bratton without worrying about the bomb blowing up a half a million civilians.
On cue, Steve comes out of the shadows. In his dark grey suit he strides to meet me in the middle of the blood-soaked room. All I can smell is copper pennies.
"You wanted to see me?" Steve asks. I almost roll my eyes at his deep voice, but instead I appear to feel unified with the man by standing my ground beside him as he talks into the room. "Let's make a deal here, Bratton—one where we all walk away alive and nobody innocent gets hurt."
In our ears, Stark says, "Sixty more seconds and I'm done, Rogers. Keep him talking and busy."
Steve doesn't even blink at this new information that's been fed straight into his ear. Instead, he goes on to prompt Bratton to speak. "What do you want, Hansel? We can give it to you."
Hansel Bratton smiles. And then, he points at me. "I want her."
My heart lodges itself up in my throat. I blink a few times before gritting my teeth. Bratton leers down at me from his spot on the stairs. Less than a minute now and the bomb will no longer be one of our worries, but for now there's still a chance it could blow if we don't keep him happy. But if Stark screws this up, I could end up in HYDRA's hands all over again if I walk up those stairs. I guess this is the sort of risk that's expected to be had when deciding to sign up for a team that saves the world.
"Well, Mirage? Want to come home to me?" Bratton all but grins. The room is silent beyond reason. He shakes the remote lightly as if for emphasis. "I'm waiting."
I drop my batons at my feet. They splash in the blood. I make a move to step forward, my feet heavy as if laden with lead, but before I can move any farther Steve Rogers' hand is latching onto my wrist protectively.
"You can't have her," he growls lowly into the lobby. His voice reverberates up to Bratton in the stale air.
Bratton doesn't look too surprised, nor does he appear disappointed. "Oh well." He lifts up the remote and—
"Done!" Stark shouts triumphantly.
—Bratton slams his hand down on the remote. The only thing that happens next is that my team, the Avengers Team, breaks into action. Steve tosses me behind him with the hold he has on my wrist as the HYDRA agents get the clue that something's wrong and start firing bullets blindly. Steve's got his shield raised and Falcon's breaking through a window—the glass shattering and raining down into my hair—and he knocks Bratton from the stairs with one of his metallic wings.
I roll to my feet. I hear someone shout my name. It's Natasha tossing me an extra baton. I catch it behind me with a short glance. I make to follow the action at the pit of the bodied room. I can see Bucky and Steve fighting agents that fight back almost as skillfully. Sam's got Hansel pinned beneath his talons and looks to be dragging him out of the building through one of the shattered windows. Bullets rain into the plaster of walls and knock portraits of dead mercenaries from their frames.
I'm almost bored when two agents come rushing up on either side of me. I take them down without much thought—cracking one's skull with the blunt end of my stick and using his gun that I've just stolen to shoot the other. With my new weapon I take down four more—not even breaking a sweat until four or five of them decide that it'd be fun to tag team me at the center of the room. Three go down pretty easy, but the fourth and fifth take a bit more effort from me. I walk away from their bodies with a few deep cuts on my arms and a bruise on my forehead that'll show up tomorrow morning.
Wanda's kicking ass on her side of the room. But while she's fighting men in one direction, I see that one of the fallen agents from the floor has enough strength left in him to lift up his gun baring arm and aim for the back of her head. His arm shakes with the weight of the weapon but as his finger pulls back on the trigger I know it's already too late to stop it.
My only reaction is to block the bullet before it can reach her body by using my own.
I had no idea we'd drawn an audience until I hear Steve scream Wanda's name. She turns her head too late—only noticing the threat as it embeds itself in my side a few yards away. Her jaw drops as I stumble slightly. Her eyes narrow in on the man who fired the bullet—her powers shifting to him now as she twists his head around and he finally falls dead.
I grit my teeth. Looks like I misjudged a bit here: it's not one, but two, bullets that have found a new home in my body. One sits slightly lower in the top of my left thigh and the other is in the meat of my side—near my hipbone. Shaking my head I grip my gun and go back to shooting—slightly dragging one leg, but walking with enough of a stride to still look badass while I do my killing.
When it's done I'm still standing. Of course I am—I've been through worse, and I've never fallen before.
"You okay?" Nat's asking me as she puts away her batons.
I nod. "Just peachy." I do the same with my own weapons and finally decide I should look down to where I've been shot. I peel back the fabric of my blood drenched shirt to see where the ball of metal has entered my flesh. "Huh. That'll leave an interesting scar."
Bucky and Steve come jogging closer. Wanda's finally feeling comfortable enough with the threat being gone to do the same. We all meet at the middle of the lobby amidst the settled dust and carnage.
Bucky grabs my shoulder. He pulls me far enough back to look at the damage. "This could've been a lot worse," he tries to be reassuring.
"Yeah—those bullets could've gone to Wanda's head like they were meant to," Steve agrees. He looks at me with a straight-lipped expression on his face. "But you saved her." If I'm not mistaken, that's a bit of admiration I see glowing in his blue eyes. It wouldn't be that shocking: he really does care about the witch girl. He's nearly adopted her as his own these past few years, from what I've heard.
"Just paying my dues," I joke dryly. I peel Bucky's hand from my shoulder as I'm determined to walk by myself. "Come on, let's go home. I'd really like someone to pull these things out of me before they get too comfortable."
...
DATE: September 10, 2020
TIME: 08:00
LOCATION: STARBUCKS, NEW YORK
MISSION NUMBER: N/A
AGENT: JAMES "BUCKY" BARNES <WINTER SOLDIER>
"She just... she took two bullets for someone she hardly knows without blinking an eye."
I take a bite of banana bread and glance over the top of the New York Times to Steve who sits across from me at the Starbucks booth. Nat's on the other side of me fiddling with a sugar packet that she can't decide if she wants to put in her green tea.
"Yeah. That's the kind of girl she is," I reply with a shrug about Y/N.
Nat glares at me. "Woman, Barnes. She's not a girl—she's a woman."
Steve rubs his chin and mutters, "Damn straight she is," almost to himself... dare I say, dreamily.
Nat raises a brow and we share a strange look of doubt. There's no way that ole Steve could be... No, it's not possible that he's got feelings for... He's been talking about her nonstop all week now, but does that really mean...?
Suddenly, Steve's head whips upwards. "Does Y/N like coffee?"
"Yeah..."
"Should I get her something from here? I should get her something here. She'd probably like that, right? It's our day off and she's going to be laid up in bed all day, I bet she'd like some coffee." Steve rambles and answers his own question by standing. "Wait—what does she like?" He looks back to me with slightly widened eyes behind the thick glasses he wears as a disguise.
I shrug. "I dunno, man. We only ever drink the plain stuff. I don't even know if she's ever had any fancy coffee before."
Steve frowns thoughtfully. "Maybe I'll text her. I'll text her and ask," he says and sits back down at his side of the booth. He pulls out his cellphone and squints at the screen like an old man gone blind. His big thumbs gracelessly type on the lettered buttons while Natasha looks over to me with widened eyes. I shrug and we go back to pretending as if we know nothing.
"Okay. I texted her." Steve sets his phone back on the tabletop. Nat's eyes follow his fingers as they drum impatiently on his thighs. I'm busy trying to figure out what the hell he's looking so nervous about if it's not the fact that he's caught feelings for Y/N.
Nat clears her throat. "So, you've been talking a lot about Y/N lately." Nat crosses her arms with a sinful smile on her lips. "Does that mean you finally trust her now?"
"Of course. Did you see the way she sacrificed herself for Wanda? And how hard she's been training since we got back? You'd have never known she was even shot—let alone twice—with how she's been acting. The only reason she's agreed to bedrest this weekend is because Bucky told her she had to," Steve says. He keeps glancing at his blackened phone screen and I'm not even sure he knows he's doing it.
"I told you she was great," I say.
"I know, and I didn't really know what to think at first. I was kind of jealous, I'm not going to lie, but I've always been grateful for the fact you had at least one friend all those awful years. And then to hear about the lengths she went to for us: to keep you and me, by proximity, alive? I'm honestly beyond..." He stops suddenly as his phone vibrates. He quickly grabs it and reads over the new text. Then, he announces to the two of us, "She wants a peppermint latte with whipped cream. Be right back." And just like that, the famous Captain America is rushing to the Starbucks line like the building's on fire for a damn coffee drink.
Nat shakes her head lowly. "Who would've thought?"
I can't help but smile. I pick up my coffee and take a long drink before saying, "I know—I would've never thought that at the end of this, my best friend would end up falling in love with my best girl."
Nat raises a blonde brow. "I thought I was your best girl?" she asks teasingly and sultrily—not an ounce of jealously to her tone.
I smirk down at her sideways and trace shapes on her thigh beneath the table. "Oh honey, you know you are."
...
DATE: September 27, 2020
TIME: 09:48
LOCATION: AVENGER'S COMPOUND, NEW YORK
MISSION NUMBER: N/A
AGENT: Y/L/N <MIRAGE>
"Looking good out there, kid."
I smile back behind my shoulder at Bucky who watches my training from the edge of the mat.
"Who would've thought I'd been a slice of Swiss cheese less just twenty four days ago? All holey and bitter," I respond. I step closer to Nat who trains me indignantly and never holds anything back. "Your girlfriend here better watch out."
"I'm not his girlfriend," Nat grunts as she tries to kick my legs out from beneath me. I dart out of her path and strike her between the shoulder blades. She laughs and swings a hand back to try and knock my head between my eyes.
I manage to stagger back in enough time not to get the blow. I do somehow trip and end up on my ass anyway. Hey, even the pros can make mistakes. At this show of lack of grace both Nat and Bucky laugh hysterically.
"Oh shut up," I snort. I try to push myself up but only grunt as the tendons in my left thigh strain. The bullet there did a bit more damage that I like to admit. But before I can hurt myself by pulling up all the way, someone's come up behind me to carefully hoist me to full-size.
"Careful," Steve softly tuts. "Doc says you need to be cautious about that leg."
"And I say that he's full of bullshit," I reply. I step away from Steve before I can find myself looking too long into the pretty ocean blue of his eyes. I don't know why, but ever since we got back from Turkey, things have been... different... between the Captain and me.
I think I might have caught feelings for him.
He started bringing me coffee. Every day. Eight o'clock exactly. Then, it was lunch. I'm known for forgetting to eat, so he began asking me to join him. It was a lot of takeout at first, and now he cooks for me: actual food, not even stuff out of a box like I do. One time he went to the West Coast for some sort of safety summit, and he brought me back sea salt chocolates because I'd mentioned once how much I missed the chocolates I used to eat as a kid: I couldn't remember what they were, only that they were slightly salty.
I think I might have caught feelings for him, and I think he's caught feelings for me, too.
And the thought makes me want to puke.
It's not that Steve's not a great guy. He's great: he's perfect, and that's part of the problem.
I walk back into the ring. "Come on, Nat. Let's go again."
"Can I give it a try?" Steve asks. He's stepping onto the mat beside me. He smiles softly and I know I'm really screwed when I feel my heart skip a beat.
"No," I answer rather rudely. "This is me and Nat's training time."
Nat shrugs. "I'm not going to complain about a break." She looks over at Bucky. "Want to grab something to eat?"
Bucky nods. "Sure, sugar."
Nat and Bucky walk out of the gym together. I glare at the back of their heads until Bucky looks back around to give me a cheeky little wink. What a pair of scheming, dirty, rotten...
"You ready?" Steve's voice breaks through my thoughts.
I roll my eyes in a blatant show of annoyance. "Whatever." I ready myself in a fighting stance in front of him.
I make the first move. I go to kick his legs out from under him but he sees this coming and pushes back with a jab of his own to my torso. It's not very hard, and that really pisses me off. It's easy to see that he's going easy on me. What infuriates me even more is when I punch his gut and hear him grunt it hurts my heart. My heart! Like a fucking Nicholas Sparks novel, it hurts my goddamn heart to punch his gut. I shouldn't feel like this... I shouldn't.
He's stronger than me. He's bigger. And while I may be the better fighter, he's always beaten me in matches. Except for today—right now—when I pin him to the mat.
Panting slightly, he smiles. "Good job."
"Fuck you," I huff. I push off of his body and start to stomp away.
Steve stumbles to his feet behind me. "Woah, woah—what's wrong?" He's jogged to meet me by the gym doors.
"You are!" I shout. I try not to pay attention to the panging in my chest that comes from his suddenly hurt expression. "You and your petty little favors have to stop, Rogers. The coffee, the lunch, the compliments—it all needs to go away."
I try to turn but Steve's stopped me. In the same way he held me back from giving myself over to Bratton in Turkey he keeps me from leaving through the gym doors.
"What's this all about, Y/N?" he asks gently. His eyebrows are soft against his glowing skin and look darker with the contrast of his brilliant blue eyes. "Is it really bothering you that much that we're friends now?"
"Friends?" I scoff. "Steve, we are not friends." I push his hand off of me. His arm falls to his side and his face falls, too. "We are coworkers—nothing else. You don't even trust me."
"I trust you," Steve argues. "You know I do."
I blink in surprise that he's said that aloud. "Well, I don't trust you." I cross my arms at my chest.
Steve's frown could break any cold-blooded woman's heart. And that's precisely what it does to me. "Why not?"
"I don't trust anyone."
"You trust Bucky," Steve says.
I purse my lips tightly. "Fine. I trust Bucky, but he's the only exception."
"Why can't I be an exception, too?" Steve's voice is soft and his eyes pleading. He smells like aftershave and an autumn afternoon as stands near me while I lean against the wall.
I squeeze my eyes closed tightly. "I—I..." I stutter. I feel Steve's fingers brushing the back of my hand and I flinch—pulling away. I glare at him with fire behind my eyes. "Bucky's been my only exception, and it nearly destroyed me when he left me. You took him from me. You're the reason it all went to hell. You're the reason I've got these damn scars on my back and I'm no longer Bucky's best friend. So no, I don't want to trust you." I jab a finger into his chest. My eyes widen slightly at what I've just said. It takes a moment for the dust to settle in Steve's brain, too, but then he's looking sheepishly to the floor.
I wait for him to say something—anything. I'm not entirely sure that he will. But finally, he whispers, "I'm so sorry." He looks back at me with those ocean colored eyes. "I wish nothing more than to be able to go back and save you, too."
"Me too." I'm the one to stare at our feet this time. I take a deep sigh, and with it, the words just pour out. "But that doesn't change anything. It doesn't change the fact that I'm a killing machine and you're being far too nice to me. People aren't nice to me, Steve, that's not how it's supposed to be. I'm supposed to be feared."
"Can't you be loved, too?"
Steve's little words hit me like a blow to the middle of my forehead. But I'm fast at recovering. "No. No, when you're this scary, no one even wants to look in your eyes. It's the price I have to pay for what I've done. No one's ever even..." I stop myself before everything can come pouring out.
Steve watches my face carefully. "Never even what, Y/N?"
I swallow, and I can't believe I'm about to say this. "Hugged me. My parents never even tried. Once—once Bucky did. It was when I was chasing him and you were, too, and he thought that he was going to die..." I shake my head. "That was the first time anyone had ever hugged me. And I pushed him away, because I was so blinded by my anger to see through my pain..."
I don't know how much more I would've said if not for Steve wrapping his arms so suddenly around me. His big, bare-skinned arms go right around my waist and his hands grip me so tight I forget what it was that I'd been saying. I blink and stay stiff in his embrace for a few moments, letting my heart race with anxiety, before the warmness of his breath into the crook of my neck soothes me into laying my arms around his shoulders loosely. It's not until he pulls me tighter against his chest that I do the same with my arms around his neck—pressing our bodies closer. He says nothing as he hugs me firmly with warmth radiating from his comforting arms. He just holds me—holds me so tight and safely that I never want to leave.
He must know what I'm thinking. Because he doesn't let go. Instead, he makes a promise into my hair, "I'm right here, Y/N. I'm here for you—and I'm not going anywhere." And then he kisses me there—right beneath my ear along my jaw, and I melt into him further—letting him keep me upright in his loving arms.