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pt 2 to cliche oneshot
#1923894
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this book gives me life even though it makes me cringe at times
sorry if it seems kinda rushed towards the end, it's literally 2 am as I'm typing this up. I just wanted to publish another chapter for you guys to make up for the lack of updates this past week so I hope you can forgive me for that lol.
I'll most likely end up editing this later on, though.
but damn was my writing always this bad ??!?!?!!!???
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After yet another night of crying yourself to sleep until your throat felt sore in the morning, you finally found the will to drag yourself out of bed. Lazily dragging a brush through your hair, you changed into a pair of training pants and a loose tank top, barely caring about your appearance.
The day passed by as it usually did, filled with you attacking the hell out of a punching bag until your knuckles began to crack and bleed and Clint had to drag you out of the training room to keep you from getting injured any further, staying in the lab all day to help Bruce and your father because you didn't have anything else to do, and denying food because you felt too sick to eat.
"Y/N, honey," Tony sighed as he put his pen down, looking over at you with concern. "Are you alright?"
You looked up to meet his concerned gaze. "Did you get any calls about his return?"
"Not yet," he shook his head, giving you an apologetic look, "but Fury said to be ready for one."
You let out a loud sigh in response and rested your head against the cool metal of the table, closing your eyes.
"I think you're lovesick, Y/N," Bruce stated quietly, after doing a quick scan of your vitals. "I can't tell you that anything's wrong with you because nothing is. You're perfectly fine and that's the only conclusion I can come to with what I know."
"That's not possible," you mumbled, "if I'm not in love with him. The feelings will just disappear eventually anyways."
"But you are," both men said in unison. "Love and like are two different things."
You looked up at the two men with a dead look. "I just miss him. That's all."
Natasha, who was silently listening in, pushed himself away from the wall she was leaning against and walked towards you. "It's pretty clear you feel more than just that. Love makes people do things they normally wouldn't do if they were fully sane, it's more common than you think."
"Yeah, I gotta agree with that!" you heard a muffled voice say from somewhere up above. "Although you are already a bit insane, Y/N, I think I have to blame for part of that if I'm being honest."
"Clint, get down from the vents!" Natasha yelled as she looked up towards the ceiling, cupping her hands over her mouth.
"Dammit."
The archer hopped down from his hiding place in the vents, dusting his clothes off. "...But honestly, Y/N, you need to do something about your feelings for him. Look what it's doing to you, you're practically going insane because you're bottling it all up inside."
"He's stupid, but he's got a point," Sam said as he jumped out of the vents right behind him.
"Quiet, birdbrain."
"Oh, so that's how you wanna do things, hm? Square up, bro, toucan play that game."
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After what felt like forever, Steve finally called in through the Quinjet's communication systems to tell the team that he and Bucky were on their way home from the mission.
Your father turned to you after receiving the call. "He'll be arriving late tonight in a couple hours' time, Y/N. There's no need to worry anymore."
The tension in your shoulders loosened up and you sighed in relief, running a hand down your face and fell back against the couch. "Thank god those idiots are still alive."
"Well, what did you expect?" Pietro suddenly popped out from around the corner. "It's Bucky and Cap. Your best friend and the love of your life."
"My two best friends, you mean."
"No, Bucky is your best friend, and Stevie is the love of your life."
"Shut up, kid, before I make sure you can't run ever again."
"You're in denial!" he sing-songed as he moonwalked away, an evil grin on his face.
Fatigue had finally started to get ahold of you now, tugging at your body and begging you to close your eyes, so you allowed yourself to lazily pull a blanket up to your chin and drift off to sleep.
You didn't remember exactly when you woke up, but you heard the front doors push open and two sets of footsteps sounding out as Steve and Bucky made their way inside, dropping their duffel bags down by the entrance.
Blinking and rubbing your eyes, you sat up and looked around for a few moments before meeting Steve's gaze.
Bucky raised an eyebrow when neither one of you broke eye contact after a while.
"I'll go put our stuff away, then. You two kiddies have fun. Not too much fun, though."
You didn't even roll your eyes at his cheeky comment this time, your eyes were already partially swollen and sore from crying too much over the past week and your voice was sore as well.
You looked over at Steve and almost did a double take at his appearance.
Your heart ached upon the sight of him, the sight of his piercing blue eyes and lean, muscular figure, those arms that you so badly wished would wrap around you and hold you and tell you that everything would be okay because he'd be there. It only made you feel worse to see his face littered with various cuts and his suit dirtied from debris and dust, the way his shoulders slumped in a way that was screaming fatigue and pure exhaustion. It was clear that he was tired out of his mind.
But the smile on his face when he saw you said otherwise. Tired, but relieved.
"Thank god you made it back here alive," you let out a relieved breath, but your voice came out cracked and raw.
Steve shook his head and sighed, unknowing of what to say in response and feeling his heart twisting in his chest at your tone.
He put a hand on the side of your face, with his thumb gently skimming against your cheekbone. It wasn't the action itself that surprised you, though, but rather the fact that he let his hand linger for a bit longer though he had the option of letting go earlier, the way he was holding you so carefully---as if you would break even at the slightest touch.
He seemed to be doing that more often, and that was what confused you the most. Wasn't he usually distant and professional, rarely ever affectionate, or were you just overthinking things?
Initially you felt your breath catch in your throat at his touch, but quickly relaxed in his arms and allowed him to gather you into his arms, wrapping you in a warm embrace. You buried your face into his chest and held on tight, feeling afraid to let go.
You didn't even have to tell Steve for him to figure out on his own that something was up. You seemed far too tense for his liking and uneasy, restless.
"Something's bothering you," he stated simply, gently. "What's going on?"
You were hesitant to answer but the gentleness in his question made you feel more comfortable and willing to answer.
God, the things this man could to do you.
"I don't know...it's really just a matter of getting over my fears, if you'd put it that way."
"What fears?"
"The fear of falling in love with someone and losing them before you get a chance to tell them how you feel. I don't want to live a regretful life like that," you mumbled into his chest, "and even death sounds like a better option when it's put that way. I don't want to lose you, Steve. That almost happened today."
"When someone's fighting on behalf of those they love, they keep fighting until the end and will return. For their sake," he murmured, resting his chin on your head and carefully running his fingers through your hair.
"Who were you fighting for?"
"I believe I've already made that answer crystal-clear, Y/N."
"What?"
"It's you. It's always been you, and it always will be. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe to continue seeing you and stay by your side to protect you, and if it means putting my own life on the line, then so be it."
"You can't do that," you whispered.
"Why not?"
"I can't lose you."
"Sweetheart, this world isn't going to get rid of me anytime sooner," he chuckled softly. "What matters now is that I'm here, and you're here with me. I'm alive, am I not?"
"You're the absolute worst," you sniffed, hastily wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. "I haven't slept more than three hours in the past three days because I was too focused on thinking about whether your patriotic ass would make it back here in one piece instead of in a coffin. Now you're here all bloody and bruised, and I'm still wondering how the hell all that dirty stuff isn't getting all over me so go take a shower before it does."
"Language," he corrected, smiling slightly before letting go of you, though he was reluctant to do so. "You're not gonna get rid of me so easily."
"God, Rogers. Aren't you one of a kind," you snorted, nudging him in the shoulder.
"I love you too, Y/N," he called back as he walked away.
Much to Bucky's delight, as he was coming downstairs, your face was flushed "as bright as the ripest tomatoes" in his own words, at his statement.
"Blackmail material!" he sing-songed.
"Shut it," you muttered, "before I have Fury send you off to another mission and get food poisoning and die."
"Well, who knows when this stuff will come in handy," he waved his phone around. "I'm totally playing this clip at the wedding. Your reaction was priceless, oh my god."