bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 21 all chapters
WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘
-You toss and turn, of course, utterly unable to sleep.
Your body does not get the memo that it’s a bad idea to fuck a man like John Wick, who is a killer who is holding you prisoner, and refuses to simmer down. You are uncomfortably swollen between your legs, your pussy aching with frustration, and in the wee hours of the morning you are certain you are about to lose your goddamn fucking mind.
How is he really going to fucking know?
This is the stupid little thought that plays through your tired brain as you writhe beneath the covers, running hands up over your torso, pretending they are his.
Imagining his touch tweaking the sensitive tips of your nipples, his fingers buried inside you, seeking that sensitive place that drives you wild.
Yours are too soft, too small, not long enough or thick enough by half.
You try to trick yourself that it’s his unrelenting touch circling your clit, furious in his claiming of your pleasure as his own…
It’s not enough by half, and the release that washes over you is a paltry consolation at best, a weak pleasure that you know is a sad facsimile of the real thing. Still, you can’t stop yourself from sighing his name, and how has he mind-fucked you so royally in such a short amount of time?
It pisses you off, and in a last act of defiance for the night you flip off the camera high in the corner.
He’s probably not watching anyway. He’s probably asleep, snug in his bed with Dog, the bastard.
Feeling sad and not really sated at all, you curl into a ball and try to finally get some rest. It’s lonely in this big bed all by yourself, and by the time sleep finally claims you your pillow is damp with tears.
-When finally you wake in the morning, you are cold. The covers are down around your waist, and your shoulders ache, your arms at an odd angle out in front of you.
You never sleep like this.
There’s something on your wrists.
You open your eyes, blinking away the blur of sleep. Your vision focuses on something red.
A very neat line of shibari style knots encircles your wrists and half your forearms. They would have been beautiful, in a different setting. Like, not on your body, without your consent.
They’re not so tight to cut off your circulation, but they’re not exactly comfortable either. You strain against the silk rope, and find you can’t budge them.
You are so fucked.
“I warned you.”
John is sitting in the chair in the corner, watching you. He’s wearing all black again, a button down and slacks this time. Looking his best for you, or does he have somewhere to be? It’s not something you would have paid attention to before, but this morning, you can’t help but fixate on the fact that he’s wearing a leather belt.
Because you’re an idiot, you snipe anyway, “Wow, looks like someone earned his merit badge in macramé.”
He just smirks at you, the beautiful bastard.
“I’ve got more than a badge, honey.”
“Very funny. Untie me.”
“You’ll have to earn it, bad girl.”
Your heart skitters around in your chest as you wonder what that means.
He goes on, “Did you really think I wouldn’t see you last night?”
“Guess I assumed you’d be sleeping. It was way past your bedtime.”
He scoffs at the old man dig, leaning forward on his knees, fixing you with that hawkish gaze. “I found out I only sleep well with you in my arms, darling. Wouldn’t that have been nice last night?”
Yes, it would have. However, you just frown at him.
“So, was it worth it?” he pushes.
You sigh, half tempted to tell him how utterly unsatisfying your little session of self-indulgence had been. Rather than answer him, you look at the knots again. They really are beautiful. It makes you think of the book binding shop you’d visited in Florence, and the complicated stitches and knots they used to affix the signatures of pages together.
This man likes binding all kinds of things, it seems.
“Are you hungry?”
Only then do you notice that he has a plate of breakfast foods on the little table beside him. Eggs, toast, and bacon. A little plastic cup that might be water or juice. Your tummy answers with a rumble. Dog did eat your dinner last night, and John never offered you a replacement sandwich. At the time you’d been too worked up about…everything, to care.
“Maybe.”
He huffs a little laugh at you. “Come here.” He pats his knee, and you realize he wants you to sit on his lap—so he can feed you. A little growl in the back of your throat escapes you, and it only makes his smirk widen.
“God, you’re adorable when you’re angry.”
“I’m not hungry,” you grouse.
You are starving, and you both know it.
“Come. Here.”
There’s that chilling tone of voice again. It does not fail to fill your veins with ice, your heart skipping a beat before skittering irregularly in your chest. You’ve come to understand that it means playtime is over.
You are so fucked.
It is awkward, getting out of the bed with your wrists tied like this. You almost fall on your face, your foot getting tangled in the sheet. From John’s forbidding expression, you don’t think he would have caught you from hitting the floor this time.
You are still only dressed in the thin nightie, and the air is cold on your skin. Your nipples tighten, forming sharp peaks beneath the fabric, the silk lending agonizing friction that makes you want to press your thighs to relieve some of the sudden ache between them.
Last night so did not help you with this problem, and John’s eyes fixating on them does not help either, and you wonder if you’ll be in trouble when you stain his neat looking pants leg with your slick after sitting on him.
“Come here,” he says again, his tone much gentler this time.
Defeated, you shuffle forward, letting him guide you to perch on his knee with a hand on your hip. You barely manage to suppress a shudder as possessively his hand slides just under your skirt, resting on the warm pillow of your thigh. His long fingers are so close to your center, but he makes no move, letting you stew in it.
Bastard.
Only then do you turn to look at him, finding his gaze fixed on your face. “Good morning.”
When you say nothing in return he lifts one eyebrow, and you swear, this man will be the death of you out of frustration alone.
“Good morning,” you finally return, hating the meek timbre of your tone.
“Do you like scrambled eggs?” You nod, and he scoops up a forkful. You notice the fork is plastic, and you wonder if its for your safety, or for his.
He’s clearly never seen Hot Tub Time Machine.
“I would have taken you to breakfast in Venice, but someone had to run away.”
“Well, someone was an insufferable prig the night before,” you return primly, wondering what punishment this will earn you, unable to stop yourself from saying it anyway. He actually smirks at this, though his grip tightens a bit in warning on your thigh. Not enough to hurt, but oh.
You are definitely leaving a wet spot on his trousers, and you hate yourself a little more for it.
You finish your breakfast bite by bite like the good girl you’re apparently not. It was good, if not the weirdest seating arrangement you’ve ever endured. You tremble inside, as you wonder what he has in mind for you next, now that your energy is up and you are trussed like a holiday goose for his pleasure.
You couldn’t be more surprised, than when he deposits you on the bed, kisses your cheek, and bids you, “Have a nice day, sweetie.”
“Wait!” you exclaim, whirling as he is already halfway to the door, swinging his suit jacket about his broad shoulders. “Where are you going?”
“Out.”
You hate it, that hearing this fills you with panic. “Are you coming back?”
“Do you want me to come back?” There is a dangerous glitter in those dark eyes, and you know that is a question loaded with fourteen in the clip and one in the chamber.
You decide on, “I want you to untie me.” Holding up your wrists as exhibit A.
He shrugs a little, and you know that was not the answer he wanted. “Maybe later.” Then he sweeps out of the room, leaving you staring dumbfounded at the door where he’d just been. The man is like a fucking ghost.
“Bastard!”
You hope he hears you, but you suspect the epithet falls on deaf ears.
-Your first order of business, of course, is trying to undo these beautiful fucking knots. Unfortunately for you, they are tight, and secure, and John was smart enough to make the finishing hitch with the end tails on the opposite side of your wrist where you cannot easily reach them with your teeth.
Sonofabitch.
If he’d left you Dog for company you could have enlisted the pooch’s formidable chompers, perhaps, but no dice on that one.
Fine.
You sit under the covers for a while, because you’re cold. You try to read, but it is infuriatingly difficult to turn the pages of a book and read comfortably with your hands like this.
You are certain lunch time comes and goes, without a peep out of John.
Did he actually leave you?
You hate it, how the thought makes a trill of panic vibrate in your chest.
Fine. It’s fucking fine.
He thinks he can break you with alone time? You? You are the Queen of Introversion. You can go for days without human interaction, happily, so long as you have a sketchbook or a book. Bring it on, Mr. Wick.
He left you the water cup with the straw, and boy is that an adventure to refill in the bathroom when you’re thirsty.
Going pee without making a mess is no small feat either.
You pace the room, just to get some exercise. You look out the window, watching the birds in the trees.
You laugh to yourself, banging your head against the bulletproof glass. How funny, that you’d once fancied yourself Jane Eyre, when it turned out you were destined to be Mad Bertha locked up in the attic by Rochester all along.
You hate to admit it, but by the time the sun is starting to set behind the trees you are going stir crazy with wondering where the fuck he is.
It’s definitely not because you miss him.
It’s just…these fucking ropes, of course. It’s not those burning dark eyes, or those large sure hands, or that sturdy long body he likes to press to yours. It’s not that the silence of the room feels empty without his deep voice, even if he’s using it to taunt you.
It is late by the time you hear the locks on the door whir, and you have been sitting in your nest in bed feeling listless and way too sorry for yourself. You are half out of your mind with boredom, and your shoulders and elbows ache at the joints from the restraints at your wrist. You try not to show it, but you are ready to climb up the fucking walls.
Like he might have some inkling of this, John pays you a knowing smile, assuming his seat with the confidence of a king in his throne room. He snaps and pats his thigh, no words this time, expecting you to obey.
Someday, you are going to make him pay for this.
But now…there’s nothing for it but to play his twisted game.
He’s prepared some kind of stir-fry tonight, with vegetables, beef, and rice. You are starving by now, and it smells heavenly.
Again, the food is good, simple but filling. He feeds you forkful by forkful with a careful tenderness that could make you weep. Your time with John is like a game of Russian Roulette. Spin the wheel, which John shall you receive this minute?
It’s easy to hate Mean John. Insufferable Ass Hat John, could drive you to murder. But Sweet John? You would do anything, for Sweet John, and you’re afraid he knows it too.
It’s only been a day, really. Is that right? A day? And already, you feel yourself slipping into the mould he’s fashioned for you.
Perhaps in a knee-jerk attempt to counter this, you ask, “Did you used to play this game with Helen?”
He freezes with the fork halfway to your lips, his hand underneath your skirt with his dead wife’s name in your mouth.
You meant to throw him off, but as far as you can tell, all it earns you is a scoff. “No.”
“Why not?”
He actually seems to consider your question, toying with the food again, re-loading the fork with a different bite. “I was never afraid she would leave me. Funny, how that worked out.”
You feel like he’s handed you an important piece of information. Emboldened by his quietness, you dare push, “And…what do you think she’d think, about what you’re doing to me now?”
“I’d say she lost her vote, when she left me.” The indifference is gone; this is delivered with a stinging bitterness, and you realize he blames her for leaving him. There’s a clue in this too, and you feel like the solution to all this is an illusive thing hovering just barely out of your grasp. If you can find just the right words, push just the right buttons…maybe you can bring him back to sanity?
“She never would have left you on purpose, John. She got sick. You’ve got to forgive her.”
And accept you can’t control everyone around you. Then preferably, untie me! motherfucker.
The only indication he gives that you’ve upset him is the tightening of his fingers digging into your thigh. You’re going to have bruises, but if he’s actually processing what you’re saying, it’s a price you’ll gladly pay.
He just continues to push the medley of food around on the plate, shaking his head in silence. Disappointed in his nonreaction to your question, you sullenly accept the next bite.
Three seconds later, your mouth is on fire.
You squeal with panic, leaning for the plate to spit it out. But John’s big hand clamps over your mouth, a hard glint in his eyes, and you know you’re going to have to swallow it. It takes three tries, but you manage, tears streaming from the corner of your eyes.
You can do moderately spicy food, but that was just fucking diabolical.
“What the fuck?” you hiss between coughs.
“I knew you’d have something smart to say tonight.”
You try to reach for the water cup with its stupid little straw and your stupidly bound-together hands, but John sets it out of reach. “Oh my god, please?”
He speaks calmly, as though the lining of your mouth is not being eaten away like you took a bite of rice laced with battery acid. “You keep speaking about Helen like you knew her. I suggest you cut it out. Unless you would like all your meals seasoned like this.”
You blow a long breath of air over your tongue. It only sort of helps.
Mother. Fucker.
You glare daggers, but for now, you’re wise enough (broken enough?) to keep your epithets to yourself.
He sits back in the chair to regard you, tossing the fork into what’s left on the plate. You’re still hungry, but you’ll be damned if you eat anymore from that dish. You flinch as he reaches for you, though he is not cruel as he grips your hair at the base of your head. Just…exacting, and he guides you to perch on the edge of the chair between his legs, your bare ass fitted against his crotch.
It feels good as he starts to braid your hair, a jarring contrast to the pain still simmering in your mouth. You whimper a little, despite yourself, arching into him behind you. You didn’t even mean to, really, but it wins you a low groan that fills you with forbidden warmth.
This is so fucked.
Nothing you’ve experienced in your life has prepared you for handling this.
When he finishes he wraps the new handle of your plaited hair in his fist, pulling you back against his chest. He is warm, and solid, and you fail royally as you try not to enjoy this contact. It’s ridiculous, but all you really want is for him to hold you.
He speaks against the shell of your ear, his other hand lightly encircling your throat. “I’ll never let you leave me.”
Your heart drums frantically in your chest; he means business. You can just tell, there is an unyielding hardness in his tone that somehow wasn’t quite there before. You thought you could reason with this man, but maybe you were wrong, or maybe you only succeeded in pushing his sanity the other way, further into the red.
Maybe there’s nothing left to reason with, and that is the thing that finally, truly scares you.
“Maybe you need something else to fill up that sassy mouth.”
With his improvised handle he guides you down to sit between his splayed legs. Your eyes are drawn to the newly erected tent in his pants, that formidable bulge that should be the stuff of your nightmares, but still inspires a maddening longing inside you.
Why do you have to feel so empty, when he’s near?
Frustrated by the unfairness of it all, you glare daggers up at him. You know what he’s angling to extort out of you, of course. It makes you sad, but not for the reason he might have expected. It makes you sad, because you would have rubbed your knees raw sucking him off, if he’d just asked you nicely.
“Thanks, but I’m full.”
He snorts at that. “Yeah? Someone doesn’t want her hands untied that badly.”
Now, that is something you want, and maybe you’re willing to play with that on the table. You’ve never thought of yourself as someone who is easily led, but he is good at manipulating you. It makes you wonder if any of it was ever real, or if this is just a game he’s been playing with you from day one.
The thought makes you sigh, and you rest your cheek on his lean thigh, closing your eyes.
He looks down at you like you’re a puzzle he’s not quite sure how to solve.
Welcome to the club, Mr. Wick.
“Were you planning this all along?” you ask. “When you were so sweet to me? Am I that fucking stupid that I didn’t see this coming?” Obviously, from the clothes in the closet, he’d hoped you’d come stay with him at some point, but all the rest? It feels spontaneous, like the way something hard can suddenly crack with too much pressure. But then again, maybe just because it took you by such fucking surprise.
He strokes your hair, and that gentle touch just makes it worse somehow. You feel the sting of tears in the corners of your eyes, because that gentleness is all you wanted from him. The ironic part is that he wouldn’t have had to do any of this shit, just to keep you.
You do not love easily, but once you do…it is a total, and all-consuming thing.
“I don’t know,” he answers begrudgingly. “I just…couldn’t let you leave me.”
You think about how he’d been an orphan. He’d lost his parents. He’d lost his wife. He’d lost his dog. He’d gone on a rampage and slaughtered an entire Russian Bratva…for the loss of a dog.
In perspective you guess he’d actually behaved rather tamely, at the threat of losing you. This man does nothing by halves, and the only thing John Wick fears, it seems, is losing those he loves.
Is that what he’d meant, when he said his love was a curse?
It doesn’t excuse it, but there is a key somewhere in that, you reason. A key to freedom, or the gates of Hell, you’re not really sure.
You do your best to blink away your tears. Maybe it’s stupid, because you’re not half as tough as he is, but you don’t really want him to see you cry.
He lets you sit like that for as long as you want, stroking your hair. It’s almost sweet, and it gives you time to collect yourself.
Someday, he’s going to figure out it’s best not to give you a chance to plot your next move. It occurs to you that maybe you have one last card to play.
You sit up slowly on your knees between his legs, and you can feel the intensity of his gaze weighing upon your skin. You reach for his belt, brushing his erection through his pants, his manhood twitching in anticipation. For just a second, he allows himself to close his eyes.
Maybe you have power too. You just have to figure out how to use it here, and maybe not lose you mind over how thick and wonderful he just felt beneath your hand. That unhelpful pulsing between your legs casts its vote. You try to unobtrusively squeeze your thighs for some relief, but you fear this man sees everything.
Good for you, that your voice sounds almost steady. “I have to say, you’re a brave man, Mr. Wick.”
It is not easy to work the buckle of his belt with your hands bound like this, but somehow you manage, even pulling it from its loops. You fight the urge to throw the damn thing across the room, but settle for resting it at his feet.
“How do you figure?”
“Well...” You flip open the top button of his pants, your fingers shaking slightly. “If we are engaging in that time-honored exchange of a favor for a blowjob... and you just essentially carpet bombed my mouth with napalm...wow, you do like to live dangerously.”
He sits still as a statue for a good few moments, weighing what you’re telling him, gauging if the capsaicin would transfer through your saliva to what is arguably the most sensitive area of his body. You’re 98 percent certain they would, and a part of you hopes he’ll opt to try it even after you warn him.
It would make for a neat little slice of revenge.
But then, what you really want is out of these ropes, and you hope your honesty will win you some points with him.
In the end he catches your hands, as you are awkwardly trying to work his zipper.
“Maybe we'll skip that for now.”
“You sure? Where’s your sense of adventure?”
He narrows his eyes down at you, and you wonder if you’re inventing it, or is there a glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes?
“In my other pants.”
In the end he pulls you back up into his lap with a grumble.
You suspect you’ve only delayed the inevitable, but you feel some satisfaction for your little coup.
“I’ll be back,” he tells you, (threatens you?), depositing you on the bed, gathering the dishes and sweeping out of the room. You have a feeling this interaction was not half as satisfying as he’d hoped it would be.
Well, good.
Bastard.
-When he returns, he brings you a cup of milk. Though most of the pain from the chilis has already subsided by now, you accept it for the calorie count if anything.
“Are you alright?” he asks with a hand on your cheek, looking you over appraisingly.
Thinking this might be your best moment, you lift your bound hands with a pitiful pout, blinking your eyelashes innocently.
“Will you untie me now?” you ask in your sweetest tone, words loaded with contrition.
“You think you’ve earned it?” he asks, and you sense this is a perilous path you’re approaching.
“I’ve been good.”
“Hmm.”
“Come on. I mouthed off. You punished me. You had your fun. And rather than give in to my initial vindictive impulses, I saved you from a very uncomfortable evening. It’s the least you can do.”
He actually chuckles at this, stroking your cheek with his thumb. He seems softened by your bright little tirade, but then this man’s mood can change on a dime.
“And, it’s starting to hurt,” you add.
It’s not a lie, and it seems that is the thing that makes him pause.
“You don’t like my knot work?”
Your heart lodges in your throat, and you know you must proceed with caution, or you’ll be wearing this shit for a week at least.
“Your knots are very fine, Mr. Wick.”
Your captor practically purrs at hearing that, a low rumbling sound from deep in his chest, his hand burying in your hair. It sends a tingling thrill all across your scalp.
You’ve come to reluctantly love his fixation with grabbing your mane.
You really are losing your mind.
“I’ll make you a deal, kitten.”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll untie you…if you will take a bath with me.” His tone is the low rumble of a jungle cat, and your heart leaps into your throat. You knew this was coming, eventually. Maybe you just didn’t expect it tonight.
Looking back, you’re not sure why.
“NowI get to see you?”
You are still puzzling over the way he’d outright prevented you from undressing him, in Venice. It was almost like he’d been afraid, and you don’t understand at all. He’s fucking gorgeous, and you’re pretty sure he knows it. So…why?
“I told you, you weren’t ready then.”
You suspect the real answer is that he wasn’t ready, but for once, you don’t contradict him.
He runs a finger down the line of his neat knots that are starting to bite into your flesh. It’s starting to affect the feeling in your fingers, and you know that can’t be good.
“So? What do you say?”
You crane your neck to look up at him, drinking in the lines of his handsome face, his straight nose and proud lips, and the delicately drawn sweep of his eyes. Even with the shadow of a black eye, courtesy of you, he’s still the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. You shouldn’t want him, after everything he’s done to you. You shouldn’t, but you feel yourself inevitably drawn to him, like the moon pulls the tide.
You feel like you’re signing a piece of your soul away to the devil on the dotted line, when at last you nod.
He puts a hand to his ear with a smirk. “What was that?”
Your groan comes out like a growl.
“You have a deal, Mr. Wick, sir.”
His low rumble of approval gives you chills, and when he turns your face up to kiss you sweetly you utterly melt beneath his hands, jarred by the contrast from earlier, but not questioning it. You bask in the press of his soft lips, greedy for his tenderness, hoping stupidly that this is the way things will be from now on. Then you yelp with surprise as suddenly he scoops you up with his hands on your thighs, carrying you into the bathroom.
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You're So Timeless | Vol. 1
Steve Rogers x Reader
Fandom: MCU
Summary: In 1943, Steve Rogers was visited by his soulmate. He fell hard. Problem is, she was from the future and didn’t stick around for long. Now, in the twenty-first century, he finally found her again, except this version of her hasn’t met him yet and won’t know he’s her soulmate for another year.
Note: So this is a combination of my other two Steve Rogers soulmate AU fics, but lengthened and fleshed out into a full fic. I was literally possessed to write this. I have no other explanation. I really like how it came out. I gave this one chapter headings (I am also going to post it to Ao3) and yes some are Taylor Swift titles. Sorry about that. It takes place roughly around the time Civil War would, but we have managed to avoid the war this time around. I also moved some other characters up the timeline because I think they’re neat and I said so. Without further ado, please enjoy my new Magnum Opus.
Also Tumblr made me split it into two parts. Part 2 linked HERE and also at the end of the post.
Warnings: Canon-typical violence/injuries, soulmate au, tons of mutual pining, kind of a slowburn but in reverse. Light angst, but a happy ending.
Word Count: 38.7k total (I am not sorry)
Reader Is: Enhanced (forcefields), 24 years old, female
The End
Time.
It was a fickle thing. In the blink of an eye, a year had passed. A mere twelve months earlier, you had been living a different life. The only life you had been responsible for was your own. And your plants, but…they never seemed to last that long under your care. Now, everything was different.
It was the day before your birthday. Your twenty-fifth birthday, which, in the world you lived in, meant that tomorrow, a name would appear on your wrist, the name of your soulmate. It had been stressing you out all day, the weight of tomorrow and everything it meant.
It was late, and you were exhausted from a day of overthinking. The longer you stayed up, the longer you delayed the inevitable reveal, and thinking about it too much made you nervous, so you just decided to get to sleep sooner than later.
It was once you were just about to climb into bed that there was a knock at your door.
“It’s open!” You called. The door opened slowly, revealing Steve, who was leaning in your doorway, arms crossed, that pensive look in his blue eyes. “Oh, hey.”
“Hi.” He chuckled. He seemed nervous, although you weren’t sure why.
“Everything alright, Steve?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I actually came in here to check on you. Wanda said you were…quiet.”
“Yeah, you could say that.” You hugged your arms around your frame and bit your lip, looking up at the super soldier standing in front of you. “Just…I don’t know. I’ve been looking forward to tomorrow for my entire life, but…now that it’s here, I’m so scared.”
“Hey, come here.” He said, pulling you to him, strong arms wrapped around you, as if he could protect you from the future itself.
“I don’t know what to do…”
“(Y/N), whoever they are, they are incredibly, incredibly lucky. You don’t need to worry about anything. It’ll all work out. It always does.” He said it like he was certain. Like somehow he knew what would happen in the morning when suddenly your life was turned on its head and you had to venture out to find your other half.
Since you’d met him, Steve wore a leather band around his wrist, covering his soulmate’s name. You’d figured he must have met them in the forties and…maybe they hadn’t made it long enough to see him come out of the ice. But you didn’t ask about it. You never dared to put that question into words. He’d been through enough heartbreak already.
“What if they don’t like me…?”
He scoffed, holding you tighter. “That’s impossible. They’re going to love you. So much. I promise.”
“And…and we’ll still be f-friends?”
Steve pulled away, looking down at you, a hand very carefully touching your cheek. “Of course we will still be friends. Nothing is ever going to change that. I promise.”
You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Good. Thank you, Steve. For everything.”
He gently wiped the tear away, the pad of his thumb warm. Once he was sure you were okay, he let go, looking at you with that knowing sparkle in his eye once more. He took a little extra time to look at the shirt you were wearing, the Star Wars tee you’d had since high school. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow.” You agreed.
“And happy birthday, (Y/N).”
We’ll Meet Again
“Ma’am? Are you alright? Ma’am?” The voice sounded far away. You were pretty sure you were still dreaming. You opened your eyes slowly and immediately became aware of the pounding pain in your head.
“Ow, oh my God.” You reached up and felt there, but it didn’t feel like you were bleeding or anything.
“Ma’am?”
You froze for a second, slowly looking up at the figure standing above you, confusion written all over his familiar features. It took you a long moment to put the pieces together. You were on a porch somewhere in what appeared to be New York, but it was…different. A lot different than the parts of the city you knew. Alright, it had to be a dream.
You looked up at the man standing above you and did a double-take. But no, it was him. It was a tiny, frail version of Steve. Your eyebrows furrowed and you sat up slowly, staring at him for a long moment before whispering, “Steve?”
His mouth opened and then shut again and he made a face of confusion, like he was trying to place where he knew you from, but he didn’t know you yet, and wouldn’t know you for several more years, to say the least. “Do I know you?”
“It’s complicated.” You exhaled. “Can we go inside? You’re going to need to sit down for this.”
Dumbfounded, Steve nodded and you stood up from the porch, only to find that he was at your eye level when you did. Weird. He led you into the small apartment and you looked around. It was quaint. There was an easel in the corner of the room and…Bucky Barnes sitting on the couch? You stared at him for a good, long moment, a shiver running down your spine.
“Who’s the dame?” He read your shirt. “What is Star…Wars…?”
“About to find that out myself.” He chuckled, leading you into the living room. “Buck, could you give us a minute?”
“I’ll be in the kitchen.” Bucky got up and walked to the other half of their tiny two-bedroom.
You sat down on the couch and so did he. The silence was thick. You thought for several moments. You weren’t quite sure how you had ended up in the 1940s. You looked down at your hands and it was then that your gaze finally landed on the writing on your wrist. And then everything made sense.
“What’s the date today?”
“It’s July 4th, why?”
“July 4th…” You whispered. “What, 1943?”
You could see the wheels turning behind his eyes before he replied, “Yes ma’am.”
“Well, happy birthday, first of all. And second of all…” You held up your wrist so he could read it. Steve’s eyes went wide and he stared at the three words written neatly on your skin in his own handwriting.
Steven Grant Rogers.
“You’re my…” He looked at you for a long time, his eyes wide. He hastily undid the cuff around his wrist and held it out to you, your own name written there. He ran a finger across the letters, as if to prove they were really there.
“I’m your soulmate.” You said certainly.
It hit you like a truck, then. The weird look on your Steve’s face, the way he was so certain that everything would work out. It was because he had already lived through this. And that meant that in all the time he’d known you, he’d been hiding his mark not because his soulmate had died, but instead because you were his soulmate and you didn’t know it yet.
Your entire year of friendship, of memories, of roadtrips and missions and movie marathons…he had known the whole time. And that look in his eyes wasn’t just his protective side coming out. It was love. It had been love the whole time.
Oh.
Steve exhaled a long, shaking breath, really taking you in. Once again, he had a million stars in his eyes. He let out a whispered, “Wow,” as tears began to form.
You came back down to earth. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” He chuckled, sniffling as a tear ran down his cheek. “I’ve just, I’ve got a lot of…health problems, so I wasn’t sure if I’d ever…meet you. And you’re here and you’re great and I just…I’m sorry.”
That brought tears to your eyes. “Oh, Steve…” You pulled him into your arms and he didn’t hesitate to surrender to your embrace, his arms wrapping tight around you and holding you close, head nestled into the crook of your neck. “Just breathe. It’s okay. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”
Always.
He took your advice, doing his best to avoid an asthma attack on what was shaping up to be the best day of his life. Once he finally caught his breath, he pulled away to look at your face again. “I have to ask…How did you know?”
“I don’t know if you can tell from these clothes,” you motioned down to the t-shirt and sweatpants you were wearing, “but I’m not from around here, exactly.”
“I kind of thought so, but I didn’t want to be rude.” He smiled softly. “Um, where are you from, then?”
“I’m from the future. Like…a while from now. It’s hard to explain why or how, and I’m not really sure how I got here, to be honest, but I’m glad I am.” You sighed, thumb grazing his cheek, wiping away his tears. He crooned at your touch. “I don’t know how long we have before I have to go back.”
“Am I there? Where you’re from?”
“You are. It’s complicated. We’re really good friends and…when I get back, I’m sure we’ll probably be even more than that.” You smiled, shaking your head. “I can’t believe I didn’t put the pieces together sooner.”
“(Y/N)?” Steve asked, trying out your name for the first time.
“Yeah?”
“Let me take you out today, show you a good time here before you have to go back.” He took your hand and carefully laced his fingers through your own, testing the weight of it, the feel of it.
You smiled. “I’d like that.”
“Not to eavesdrop, lovebirds — congratulations, by the way — but if you’re going to take her out, we’re going to need to find her some clothes that aren’t so…‘not from around here.’” Bucky leaned in the doorway.
“Yeah, I thought the same thing.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call one of my girls and we’ll get her squared away. Sit tight.”
“Thanks, Bucky.” You said, chuckling when his eyes widened after you addressed him by name. “I know you, too. From the, uh, future.”
“Weird…” Bucky decided.
“Long story?” Steve asked, studying the look on your face.
“Very.” You agreed. After staring at him for another long moment, you pulled him back into your arms again, exhaling a long breath before whispering, “Steve, I’m so glad it’s you…”
***
“Wow.” You stared at yourself in the mirror, studying the way Bucky’s, ahem, lady friend, had curled your hair, done your makeup. You did a little twirl and relished in the way the skirt of your dress twirled. It was navy blue, short ruffled sleeves with a flared skirt and buttons down the front. “I think it suits me.”
“I agree. Blue is a good color on you.” Steve was sitting in a chair at the edge of the room, absolutely enamored as he watched you. “Although, I’m sure they’re all good colors on you, doll.”
You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. “Thanks.”
“I mean it.” He stood up and walked to you, slipping one of his hands into each of yours and staring into your eyes, looking at the way you looked standing next to him in his reflection. His soulmate. The kind of girl people write poems about. “You look great.”
“I don’t look out of place?”
“No one is gonna think you’re a time traveler. Well, unless you tell them.” Bucky said. “Maybe don’t do that anymore.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t planning on it.” You chuckled and gave Steve’s hands a squeeze. “Where to first, soulmate?”
His cheeks reddened as soon as you said the word. “Well, I was thinking we could go to my favorite little diner down the street to grab something for lunch, and then maybe we could take a walk through the park, catch a movie, and then go out for drinks tonight?”
“What, you aren’t gonna take her dancing?” Bucky teased, ruffling Steve’s hair under a large hand. “Show the girl a good time?”
“I would if I didn’t have two left feet.” Steve chuckled, a sheepish smile on his face. He looked at you, waiting for some kind of response. “How does that sound?”
“It sounds like a great time, Steve.”
He smiled. “Good.”
The two of you left the apartment not long after that, and walked side by side towards the diner. Your hands were swinging in the space between you and your hand brushed Steve’s once, twice, a third time, and then you slipped your hand into his, intertwining your fingers.
You caught him smile out of the corner of your eye. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah, of course it’s okay.” He grinned and chuckled to himself. “You can hold my hand as much as you want, doll.”
When the two of you finally got to the diner, a little bell rang over your heads and you got seated at a booth by the window. The two of you ordered drinks and you skimmed the menu while you waited.
“So, tell me about yourself.” You said, resting your chin against your fist and looking over at Steve. You studied the way his blue, blue eyes flicked up to your own and the blush that covered his cheeks shortly thereafter.
“You probably know a lot of it already.” He chuckled. “Unless we don’t talk a lot?”
“We talk quite a bit, but I still want to know about this you. Here and now.”
“I like art. Drawing and painting and stuff.” He said. “I haven’t had time to do much lately, but I’d like to get back into it.”
“See, that I didn’t know.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I didn’t know you were into art.”
“I could, uh, show you sometime.” He offered.
“I’d like that.” You smiled. “What else?”
“I like to read. I like going to Dodgers games with Bucky. One time he took me to Coney Island. I don’t like rollercoasters, but I liked playing the games. He wasted three whole dollars trying to win a teddy bear for a redhead named Dot.”
“Three whole dollars…” You chuckled. “Well you don’t have to worry about the rollercoasters too much, I can’t go upside down without throwing up.”
“That makes two of us. Enough about me, tell me about you.” Steve nudged, his hand slowly moving towards yours. “How do we know each other? When did we meet?”
“We’re…coworkers, I guess you could say. We met about a year back and now we live in the same building? I’m sorry for being so vague, I just—”
“Don’t want to give it away, yeah, I get it.” He nodded, understandingly.
“You took me under your wing as soon as I moved in and really made me feel welcome. You’re the one that brought me onto the team, actually.” You took a sip of your drink. “We’ve been through a lot together already, and I’m sure it’s just the tip of the iceberg.”
“Mmm…” Steve nodded. “I know I just met you, but I’m really glad you and I are close. Well, will be close.” He paused before chuckling and shaking his head. “There’s still some little voice in the back of my head telling me all of this is just some amazing dream.”
“That doesn’t even begin to cover it.” You chuckled, tucking a piece of curled hair back behind your ear. “I’ve…I’ve had a crush on you forever, Steve. I can’t believe this is happening.”
He stared at you, almost dumbfounded. “O-on me?”
“Yeah.” You agreed. You’d forgotten, you supposed, that Steve had had this phase, the self-depreciation, the insecurity. Your Steve, when complimented, was shy, sure, but you knew he understood what people were talking about. This Steve didn’t see it that way. Not yet. But it would be your job to use your one day with him to change that, to make your soulmate see that he was worthy of love, even self-love. “Yeah, of course on you, Steve. I can’t believe I get to have you.”
His cheeks reddened and he finally took the leap, taking your hand across the table, thumb grazing your knuckles with care. His blue eyes sparkled. “Funny. I was gonna say the same thing about you.”
***
Once the two of you were finished up at the diner, you took a walk through the park. It was gorgeous out, a bright, sunny, warm summer afternoon. Several couples were strolling down the paths, hand in hand, and you were one of them, your hand held tight in Steve’s, his thumb gently stroking the back of yours.
You went to the theater and caught a movie together. Luckily enough, they were showing the Wizard of Oz. Your current situation had you feeling like Dorothy in more ways than one. The movie had only come out four years earlier, which was definitely strange. Not to mention the fact that the tickets were only twenty-five cents, the popcorn a mere ten cents.
And then, once the movie was over and the sun was setting, you went to a bar, where Steve ordered each of you a drink. You took a sip of yours, something sweet, and smiled at him across the table.
“So, how’s your day been, birthday boy?” You asked coyly.
“The best I’ve had so far,” he replied, his eyes sparkling. The sparkle faded, however, when his expression grew somber. He hesitated, but then asked, “Okay, I have to know…How long do I have to wait to see you again?”
You exhaled a long sigh, biting your lip. If you told him the truth, he might ask questions you couldn’t tell him the answers to. And besides, the real answer would require some math. You didn’t know the specifics.
“I’ll be honest, Steve, it’s…it’s a pretty long time.” You thought for a long moment before continuing, “I…I can’t really tell you why. It’s all really complicated, and if I tell you too much, it might not happen the way it’s supposed to.”
“Oh…” Steve nodded and took a sip of his drink. Once he set down the glass, he reached across the table and took your hand. “Well, however long it is,” he looked straight into your eyes and a chill ran down your spine, “It’ll be worth it. Every second. I promise.”
You could have cried. “I hope so.”
“There you two are! I was wondering which bar you’d wandered into!” Bucky was, apparently, already slightly intoxicated as he approached you and Steve with a date of his own. “How was your day on the town, lovebirds?”
“Spectacular.” You replied. “I wish there was more time to soak it in.”
“New York sure is something, huh?” Bucky’s date asked, giggling innocently. If only she knew the half of it.
“Yeah, you could say that.” You laughed and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.
“You guys wanna sit with us?” Steve asked.
“If you don’t mind too much, punk.” Bucky grinned.
Steve got up and switched sides of the booth so he was sitting next to you instead of across from you. You slid your hand into his, intertwining your fingers. He smiled, chuckling softly to himself as he gave your hand a squeeze.
“Did you give the lady her dance, Rogers?” Bucky asked, smirking.
“Not yet.” Steve chuckled. “We’ll see. The asthma makes it a bit difficult sometimes.”
“Never seems to stop you from getting into fights.” Bucky muttered, causing Steve’s cheeks to flush.
“Just wait until the band plays something slow,” Bucky’s date pointed out.
“There you go!” Bucky raised his glass to his lips. “Great idea, Maggie.”
“Glad to be of service.”
And so, the four of you chatted until the band started to play something sweet and slow. Steve looked at you for approval and you nodded. He led you out onto the floor with the other couples.
Steve blushed, flustered, and he looked at you before saying, “I don’t know how to do this.”
“It’s easy.” You promised, guiding one of his hands to your waist and holding the other. “That’s it. And then we just move to the music. You can twirl me around if you feel so inclined.”
“Alright.” He chuckled, swaying in time with you. “Hey, uh, (Y/N), I need you to know…I had a really, really great time today. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a soulmate and I’m so excited to spend the rest of my life with you someday, however far away that someday is.”
“I’m glad I met your expectations.” You smiled, tugging him a bit closer.
“No, you exceeded them. You’re better than anything I could have imagined. I’m so lucky.” He paused, and his expression fell a little. “I know I’m a lot. I have a lot of problems and they might complicate things sometimes, but…”
“Steve, you’re perfect.” You shook your head and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. “The universe gave you to me for a reason and I’m so, so glad it did. You’re amazing. I can’t think of anyone better to spend the rest of my life with.”
He was quiet for a moment before whispering, “Can I please kiss you, doll?”
You leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, the music swelling around you as you guided his hands to your waist, cupping his cheeks to hold him close to you. When the moment had passed, you rested your nose against his, meeting his eyes and inhaling his scent, committing this version of him to memory before he was reduced to just that, a memory.
“Steve Rogers, I am so sorry you will not hear me say these words until after I go back tomorrow, but I love you. I have loved you for a very long time. And I know I will love you for the rest of my life.”
You spent the rest of the night together. Twirling across the dancefloor, talking, soaking each other in. But when you reached the front porch of the townhouse, Steve looked back down the steps to find you’d disappeared, leaving him with nothing but the memory of your lips, your laugh, your smile.
“You gonna be alright?” Bucky asked, a hand on his shoulder.
“I don’t know.” He replied, words swallowed up by the sounds of the night. “Just give me a minute, pal.”
Bucky nodded, solemn. “Take all the time you need.”
The Beginning
Steve remembered the day you’d met—for the second time, though he didn’t realize it right away—like it was tattooed on his brain. It was a few years after he’d come out of the ice and he had taken Tony’s advice to get out more, which had led him to the local mall.
It had been an uneventful day. He strolled around the perimeter, taking in the storefronts, studying the fashion, browsing the menu of a pretzel place, reading the posters on the exterior of the movie theater, the things that were coming out in the coming months. Nothing interested him in particular. He didn’t really care for war movies.
After a few quiet hours, his peaceful walk was interrupted by screams, people running away at top speed, which, of course, caused him to spring into action, assessing the situation. He ran towards the source of the chaos, scanning, scanning, until his eyes landed on the attacker, a guy with a flamethrower, aimed at a teenage theater employee. Steve hurdled over a trash can, moving people out of the way, directing them to safety and trying to put himself between himself and the mallgoers, but before he could, you did, hands out in front of you and what seemed to be an invisible shield poised there, redirecting the flames and protecting the movie theater employee that had nearly been caught in the crossfire.
A quick flick of your wrist knocked the attacker’s gun out of his hands and it slid across the floor to Steve’s feet. He chucked it into the fountain without a second thought, where it fizzled pathetically. The guy lunged at you with heavy metal gauntlets, and you dodged the first swing but caught the second in the face, falling backwards. When you landed, however ungracefully, you sent a blast of energy at the guy, knocking him over a plant and sprawling onto the tile floor.
While the guy was on the ground, Steve tackled him, wrenching the gauntlets off of his hands and chucking them away, too. Soon, the police arrived, apprehending the guy while mall security comforted the distressed mall patrons, ushering them to safety and medical attention.
You sat on a bench after, breathing heavy, a cut on your forehead. Steve walked over, interested in this superpowered rescuer, someone who wasn’t yet on the Avengers’ radar, but would most definitely be on the news the next day if the sheer amount of phone footage recorded was any indication.
“Are you alright, ma’am?” He asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just glad everyone is okay.” You told him, meeting his eyes.
He finally got a good look at you and froze, looking bewildered. A deer in headlights. “You’re…”
There you are, doll. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.
It was you. Of course it was you. Since the moment he’d been unfrozen, he’d been looking for you. His soulmate. The girl from the future that popped in on his twenty-fifth birthday, turned his whole life on its head, and then left without warning, hours after their first kiss. Back when he was five-foot-nothing with asthma and more medical conditions than he could even remember.
Back before he was anything.
And you’d loved him anyway. You’d given him the day of a lifetime and hope for not only a future, but for love. That someone could love him for him despite it all.
“I know.” You knew? “I…I don’t know what it is or…why I can do it. I’ve been like this since college.”
Your powers, you meant. You thought he was talking about your powers and not your name, which was burning a hole into his wrist beneath the thick leather band keeping it hidden.
“Right. Well, it’s…” He sighed, gathering his words, hiding the elation and pain behind a warm smile. “It’s a good thing you were here. I don’t have my shield on me.”
“Mine is built in.” You chuckled.
“You, uh…have a cut. On your forehead.”
“Oh, do I?” You reached up and found it with your fingers and they came away a bit bloody. “Shit.”
“Come on.” He offered you his hand and you took it, letting him lead you over to the counter of the theater. “Hi, do you have a first aid kit we could borrow?”
“Yeah, of course.” The girl at the counter said, rushing to grab it.
Steve patched you up with gentle hands, off in a corner on your own, in the room the theater used for birthday parties. Staring up at him, you finally realized the obvious. This was Captain America. And he was using a careful finger to spread a triple antibiotic ointment on your cut.
Play it cool, (Y/N).
“Do you do this often? The hero thing?” Steve asked, trying to sound somewhat indifferent. He couldn’t be, though. Not entirely. Not when it came to you.
“No.” You shrugged. “Haven’t had much opportunity, thankfully. I mean…I’d like to, I just didn’t know how to…get into it, I guess. Any email I sent to Stark or S.H.I.E.L.D. or whatever would end up on a slush pile.”
“Well, I’ve got some connections. If you’re seriously considering it. I can’t say I recommend it, but…Obviously you’ve got that protective instinct and you seem to work well under pressure.”
“I don’t know about that. My heart is about to leap out of my chest.” You admitted, laughing as he carefully laid a Bandaid over the cut, closing the kit.
“That makes two of us.”
“Well, if you think I’m really cut out for it…I’d love to help.”
***
It was three days later that Nick Fury got in touch with you. You thought it was a scam call at first, but no one else would possibly have the info about you that he did. That was S.H.I.E.L.D. for you, you supposed.
You packed up your apartment, your boxes of books, your old journals, your clothes and makeup, your life, and hopped in the jet that was waiting for you at the meeting place. Inside was a pilot with flaming red hair, Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow. It was hard not to get a little starstruck.
She helped you load your things into the jet, let you settle into the copilot seat, and then you took off, soaring away from your old life and towards your new one, the mysterious, magnificent facility tucked into upstate New York, that iconic A emblazoned on the front of the building.
“Steve said you’re telekinetic. That’s cool.” She complimented with a smirk.
“Yeah, I’ve got force-field stuff. I don’t know what else, exactly.”
“Oh, we’ll figure all that out. Banner already has a list of tests he wants to run. Nothing too intense. I made him promise not to give you the lab rat treatment too soon.”
“Reassuring.” You chuckled.
“Wanda’s been decorating your room all day. It’s not often we get new blood.”
“I appreciate it. I can’t wait to meet everyone.”
“They can’t wait to meet you.”
The jet landed a little under an hour later and Natasha helped you haul boxes towards the front door, where Steve was waiting. It was like time slowed, that look in his eyes, glistening little stars.
“Come on, Rogers, these boxes aren’t going to move themselves.” Nat waved him over, snapping both of you out of your trance.
“Right, right.” He jogged over. “Is there anything heavy?”
“That one.” You pointed. “It’s got my candles in it.”
“On it.”
You grabbed a few tote bags, slinging your computer bag over your shoulder. A few others came out to help, Clint and Wanda namely, the latter of whom used her shimmering red powers to speed the process along. Were you any more confident in your own powers, you would do the same, but you hadn’t had much opportunity to use them yet, and you didn’t want to drop anything fragile on your first day.
You started unpacking the essentials, your smart speaker, your laptop, some books and your favorite candle. You put some clothes in the dresser, hung some up in the large sliding closet in the wall. Upon further examination, you had your own bathroom, too, which was nice. There was a wall tapestry with sunflowers on it, and several little knickknacks. Wanda’s loving touch.
Someone cleared their throat and you turned to find Steve there, arms crossed, leaning in the doorway.
“Hi there, um, just checking in. Figured you might want a tour when you got settled in. No rush, of course.”
“I would love a tour. I can already tell I’m gonna get lost in this place.”
He grinned. “Not on my watch. Come on. I’ll show you around.”
Steve walked with you through the office spaces, the computer labs, Bruce’s lab, Tony’s. Tony was in the city, but Bruce was home and introduced himself with a dad joke about the Hulk and a warm handshake. You saw the training facility, a giant room with floor to ceiling windows, a wall of mirrors, practice dummies, landing mats, and plenty of sparring weapons. There was, separately, a fully furnished gym, and then the basics, a large, modern kitchen, living areas and lounges, study spaces, a library, a party room with a bar, and a very fancy coffee machine.
You could see yourself making a home here.
Steve walked you back to the hallway where all the bedrooms were. “If you need anything or have any questions, my room is just down the hall on the left. Wanda is next door. Dinner is at six.”
“Six o’clock it is. Thank you, Cap.”
“You can call me Steve.”
“Steve.” You nodded, slowly accepting the fact that you were now on a first name basis with Captain America. “And you can call me (Y/N).”
“Nice to meet you, (Y/N).” He said, some twinge of nostalgia at the end of his words. You turned back into your room to get some more unpacking done and Steve walked back down the hall, taking a deep breath and looking up at the ceiling, doing his best to hold in his tears.
…Ready For It?
You spent the first few days in your room for the most part, unpacking but also hiding, if you were honest. You met Vision. He seemed nice. He also had the ability to phase through walls, apparently. Still no sign of Thor, but you weren’t holding your breath. You were sure he was a busy guy.
Sam Wilson introduced himself with the same offer everyone else had so far, to let them know if you needed anything. You appreciated it.
And then, finally, there was Tony, whose dry humor came across immediately. He sized you up, drilling questions about where you went to college, what you majored in, what your top three movies from the 1980s were. You were pretty sure he liked you, but you didn’t think he trusted you. And that was okay. You knew that was something you’d have to earn around there.
“No soulmark yet, kid?” He asked, eyeing up your bare wrist.
“Not yet.” You confirmed.
“That makes you what, twenty-three? Twenty-four?”
“Twenty-four. As of last month, actually.”
“Okay.” He nodded. “Well that’s exciting. I’m sure you’re counting down the days.”
“More or less.” You chuckled, catching Steve watching you out of the corner of your eye. He did that a lot, you noticed.
Before Tony could come up with some witty comeback, the lights flashed red, accompanied by a loud siren.
“Vis? What’s going on?” Tony asked as Vision walked into the room, his sophisticated sweater melting into the uniform you’d seen on the news, red and green with a golden cape.
“There seems to be a stir at the local fairgrounds. Tremors and gunshots. Hostages.”
“Alright, let’s go pay them a visit then.” Tony pressed a button on his watch and transformed into Iron Man in front of your very eyes. “You can stay here or come with us. Up to you. But suit up fast. We’re out in five.”
You stood there for a moment, waiting for the shock to wear off, but the sirens definitely weren’t helping.
“Stick with me.” Steve instructed, voice calm, confident.
“Okay.” You nodded, following after him, towards the hangar where they kept the jets.
Natasha was standing at a locker, pulling her catsuit on with impressive speed, Clint beside her, loading a quiver with arrows, checking his bow.
“Nat, can you get her ready?”
“Baby’s first mission?” She asked, impressed.
You nodded, waiting for orders.
“Well, it should be an easy one, from the sound of it. Here, put this on. We’ll get you your own gear in the next few weeks.”
She chucked you an extra suit and you did your best to shimmy into it. Surprisingly, you could actually move in it. There were holsters, but you weren’t gun trained, so you figured it was best to leave that to the professionals. Instead, you followed the others onto the jet, hoping your forcefields and blossoming battle instincts would be enough to protect you out there.
***
The fair had devolved quickly into madness. There was fire, screaming, running, and gunshots. You flinched at the onslaught of it, but followed the others out anyway, listening to the voice in your earpiece, Steve’s voice, as he issued orders. You were put on civilian evacuation with Sam while the others engaged with the attackers. Six of them.
You did your job diligently, ushering people to a safe distance while law enforcement arrived. Until one of the attackers engaged with you, however, mistaking you for a civilian. Something snapped. In an instant your flight instinct vanished, replaced with the need to fight. He punched at you and you countered, sweeping a leg under him and then using a forcefield to knock him into the cornfield.
One of them launched a bazooka at Tony while he wasn’t looking, and without a thought, you trapped the explosive in a bubble, forcing it into the air where it exploded harmlessly, away from everyone.
And when the dust settled, the rest of the team turned to look at you, sharing looks with each other.
“Thanks for the save, kid. I owe you one.” Tony complimented, clapping you on the back on his way into the jet. “Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”
Your heart raced with the adrenaline of battle, the feeling of a job well done. Steve gave you a thumbs-up, a proud grin. His risk had paid off. You weren’t a total failure.
“You doin’ okay?” He asked, slinging his shield onto his back.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” You replied, letting the energy fizzle back into your palms.
He watched with interest at the faint crackles of blue that made up your powers. “You did good out there.”
You felt your cheeks flush. “Thanks, I—"
“Alright new girl, were are we stopping for food?” Natasha asked, slinging an arm around your shoulders.
“I get to pick?” You asked with a laugh.
“And don’t be afraid to pick something fancy. It’s Tony’s treat.” Clint added, walking with the rest of you onto the jet. You strapped in while the others tried their darndest to influence your pick, bickering like siblings. Like your family.
Yeah, you could get used to this.
Waypoint
Your training started shortly after that first mission. Bruce took all your vitals, measured them before, during, and after use of your powers. He recorded said powers with every device known to man until he had your ability down to a science. He had a hunch they were of cosmic origin, but you had no idea when you could have possible come in contact with something like that.
Next came a uniform. At the moment, it was a dark indigo color, something similar to navy blue, but leaning a bit more purple. The chest area was left blank, Tony claiming he’d add a symbol once his graphic design team came up with something. He did add some accents up the arms and down the legs, thin, light blue lines that matched the color of your powers.
Natasha and Clint gave you a few crash courses on weapons and your aim left a bit to be desired, but your hand-eye coordination wasn’t bad. Sam put you on a modified military workout regimen to get in shape, get your stamina up with the rest of the team.
You practiced making forcefields, seeing how big you could make them, how small, how much force they could endure before they broke. Natasha shot some bullets at them, and your fields caught them, allowing you to kill their momentum and drop them harmlessly to the ground. They could withstand some electricity, but not Wanda’s powers. And they held against Steve’s superstrength, but not for long. Still, a few hits from a supersoldier was more than most could endure, so it would buy you some time in the field.
Eventually, you moved on from just forcefields and started learning to move objects. It turned out, you were not limited to bubbles. You could create platforms underneath things. This evolved into creating platforms underneath people, that they could jump on, or ride on top of while you moved them.
You practiced using them for transport too, but it was harder standing on them while controlling them, especially if you tried to jump from platform to platform. It was a bit like patting your head and rubbing your tummy, and it would take a lot of practice.
There weren’t many missions, and the ones that popped up, you didn’t get sent on. They were high level things, and while your powers were improving, and very quickly, Bruce was always quick to reassure you, you weren’t ready for covert ops yet, especially ones that had been months in the making.
Every time Steve got sent off, he left with that sad little half-smile of his, the one where he pressed his lips together, eyes glittering like a lake under moonlight. He’d give you some words of comfort, usually dealing with how short the mission was supposed to be. It didn’t often make you feel better.
Bruce stayed behind with you, most times. More like all of the times. Code Greens, as they were called, were seldom necessary, and besides, as they had learned with Wanda back during the Ultron days, Bruce could be a liability if someone else got in his head. But it was nice not being completely alone in the big empty facility.
“He always looks so sad when he leaves.” You noted, sipping from a mug of warm tea. Steve had left only moments before, the last member of the team that was shipping out.
Bruce thought about it for a moment. “Does he?”
“Oh. I don’t know. Maybe I don’t know him that well.” You shrugged, the sounds of Animal Crossing resonating from the TV.
“You know, he has, lately. He didn’t used to.” Bruce noted.
“Weird.”
“Uh-huh.” He replied absentmindedly. “So explain to me this game?”
“Okay, so you move to this island and have to spend all your money paying off debt to this raccoon…”
It was in another training session that there was a malfunction. A shock grenade went off dangerously close to Sam. Before you could even process what you were doing, your hand shot out, a bright, pulsating star crackling in front of him, another, second star on the other side of the room. Steve assessed the situation and used the shield to knock Sam into the star, neutralizing the grenade right after. There was a bright flash and Sam appeared on the other side of the room, tumbling out of the second star.
You froze, curling your fingers and closing both of them. There was a slight pinch in your shoulder, near the base of your neck. The others all stared.
“Wait, what was that?” Bruce asked over the intercom.
“You did that?” Steve asked, motioning to Sam as he walked over.
“I think so.”
“What was that?”
Natasha asked, looking you up and down. Sam stared at you like you’d sprouted a third eye.
“I don’t know.”
“Do it again.” Bruce insisted. “Hang on, I’m coming in there.”
The door from the observation room opened and Bruce joined the rest of you in the circle that was steadily forming, all of them watching you, waiting.
“I don’t know, it was just like…” You focused on that feeling again, the desperation to get Sam the hell away from that grenade, and as though you were punching a hole through reality, it opened in the center of the circle, an eight-pointed star, bobbing and ebbing and flowing, made of the light blue energy you were so familiar with.
Carefully, you opened another one, ten feet in the air above the first. Clint shrugged and chucked a tennis ball into it. Sure enough, it popped up to the second one, before falling down through the first one again. This continued until eventually you closed the bottom one, letting the tennis ball bounce harmlessly across the floor.
“Well shit.”
“Waypoints.” Bruce said, deep in thought. “Teleportation. This…this opens up a lot of doors.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” Steve murmured.
“Hey, that’s kind of cool. Waypoint.” Clint said, drawing attention to it. “What do you think?”
“What, like as a codename?” You asked, weighing it as an option.
“I like it.” Sam grinned. “Waypoint.”
“Waypoint.” You repeated, trying it out. Hi, I’m Waypoint. I’m an Avenger.
It sounded silly, but it was getting more official by the day. There was, of course, only one way to make it official official, and that was with one of Tony Stark’s famed parties…
Wonderstruck
You let out a sigh, staring at your reflection in the mirror. It was the night of the big party. Your first, as an Avenger, and the official induction of what Tony was deeming the second class of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, Sam: the Falcon, Wanda: the Scarlet Witch, Vision, and You: Waypoint.
He’d gotten you a dress to wear, one that matched your uniform. It was long, sleek, that navy blue/indigo color. It glittered like stars and moved like a dream. And in the middle of it, poised at the base of the sweetheart neckline, was the eight-pointed star that Tony had turned into your symbol.
Your hair and makeup were done, and all that was left was the zipper.
Someone knocked on the door.
“It’s open!” You called, expecting Natasha or Wanda. Instead, it was Steve, who, when he saw you were unzipped, pulled the door almost all the way closed and shielded his eyes with his hand.
“Sorry! I’ll leave—”
“Wait, actually, could you help me zip this up? I can’t reach.”
Steve nodded, slowly lowering his hand and entering the room. He closed the door behind him to give you some privacy. He was dressed in a sharp black suit with a blue tie. His lapel pin looked like a tiny version of his shield.
“Wow…” He murmured, taking you in. “You look great, (Y/N).”
“You think so? I’m not sure blue is really my color…”
He scoffed. “It most certainly is.” He swept the hair off of your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the reflection in the mirror as he gently pulled the zipper higher until it was secure in place. “In more ways than one.”
“Yeah, guess so.” You agreed, nervous energy crackling around your fingers, blue as ever. You dispelled it, snapping out of it.
Steve looked at the two of you in the mirror for a long time before turning towards the door again. Halfway there, though, he turned back around, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a flat velvet box. “This is, um…for you.”
“Oh! Thank you.” You reached for it, heart racing. Inside was a necklace, its pendant a silver star with eight points. In the center, an aquamarine gem. You gasped, looking at it. It was beautiful, delicate. “Steve, this is beautiful. Thank you so much.”
“It’s the least I could do.” He said, offering his hand. “May I?”
“Please.” You said, handing him the necklace and moving your hair out of the way. He did the clasp behind your neck. It settled between your collarbones.
“There. Now it’s official.” He whispered.
“Almost.”
“Almost.” Steve agreed, offering you his elbow. “Right this way.”
You looped your arm through his, letting him lead you out into the initial murmurs of the party. What Natasha dubbed the “extended family” had shown up. Rhodey, Maria Hill, Nick Fury, Happy Hogan, Pepper Potts, and, of course, Thor.
He was a sight, that was for sure. He towered over everyone else at 6’5”, arms the size of tree trunks. It was a bit intimidating to say the very least.
“Rogers!” Thor bellowed.
“Thor! I didn’t think you were coming.”
He grinned. “I never miss a feast.” His eyes fell on you. “And you must be this new team member Banner spoke of.”
“I’m (Y/N). It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“The honor is mine.”
“Here.” Natasha handed you a champagne flute. She eyed up your necklace. “That’s cute.”
“Steve gave it to me.”
She quirked an eyebrow and looked up at the supersoldier, who still had your arm. “Steve has good taste.”
“Steve had help.” He admitted, smiling sheepishly.
“I’d get you one too, Rogers, but Thor has the strong stuff.” Natasha said, patting his other arm while you took a sip of the champagne. It was sweet, tangy. “God’s favorite boy scout has trouble getting drunk.”
“My tolerance is too good.”
“I think we just need to get you a Four Loko. Or two.”
“A what?” Steve asked.
“It’s like four drinks in one can. They’re insane. I tried in college, but tapped out halfway through.”
He considered it for a moment, letting out a laugh. “See, that just might work.”
Tony wandered around the lounge, greeting everyone. He looked you up and down. “You look beautiful, Portal Girl.”
You internally chuckled. The others had advised you not to feed his ego when he used his nicknames. “Thank you, Tony.”
“And you’re also here, Rogers.”
“Tony.” Steve nodded.
“You her date tonight?” He asked, motioning to your joint arms.
“Oh. Yeah, I suppose I am.” Steve agreed, not budging. Neither were you.
“Well, I hope you’ve taken some dance lessons since last time, Rogers. I’m sure (Y/N) wouldn’t want to have her feet walked all over.”
Steve chuckled and rolled his eyes as Tony moved onto his next targets. Sam emerged, looking very sharp in a red suit. Even Vision had dressed up for the occasion, Wanda beside him wearing an elegant red dress. The two of them talked and laughed on the other side of the room and you smiled. You could tell when you moved in that he cared about her.
You wondered if robots could have soulmates, too. If any android had a soul, surely it was Vision. Maybe you’d ask him about it sometime.
Once all of the expected guests were accounted for, Tony did the briefest ceremony in the history of ceremonies, introducing you all to the few members of the press he had allowed to come. You spent the beginning of the evening shaking hands, networking, and then once the strangers left, the real party started.
Nat switched you to something a lot stronger to champagne, and she was running the bar, so it was easy to get refills. Clint and Thor were arm wrestling on one of the tables which was…hilarious, admittedly.
Steve found you after a few hours apart. “Hey, will you be my partner?”
“Sure, for what?”
He laughed, loosening up quite a bit with Thor’s Asgardian mead in his system. “Sam and Bruce are trying to teach me how to play Beer Ball or something.”
“Beer Pong?”
“That one, yeah.” He nodded. “Winners play Clint and Nat.”
“That checks out.” You chuckled. “Yeah, I’m game. I haven’t played since college, though.”
“I haven’t played ever so I’m sure you’re a step ahead of me anyway.”
“We’ll see about that. Your physics skills are pretty good, what with the shield and all.” You complimented, earning that charming smile of his. “We might just give them a run for their money.”
“Enough flirting, kids, get over here.” Bruce grinned as he finished lining up the cups.
“You know how to play Beer Pong?” You asked, plucking a ping pong ball off of the table and fiddling with it.
“Kid, I have seven PhDs. I have played my share of Beer Pong.” Bruce admitted.
You couldn’t help but smile at that. It was nice to see the Avengers loosen up like this, have a good time together, really truly bond.
You gave Steve the basic rundown of the rules: no elbows past the edge of the table, balls back, stoplight, island, and that if you let Sam and Bruce get too many cups, you and Steve would get “schwaisted” as the kids said, or, at the very least, you would. Steve would probably be fine.
“Ladies first.” Sam said, giving you the second ping pong ball, one of which, you handed to Steve.
“You’re gonna regret that.” You said, rubbing the ball between your hands before perfectly bouncing it into the cup at the front of the pyramid. “Your turn, Steve.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” He said, sinking the ball into the same cup. “I believe that’s three cups, gentlemen.”
Sam’s jaw dropped. He shared a look with Bruce. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”
“You’re telling me.” Bruce chuckled, retrieving the ping pong ball and rolling it back. He started drinking the contents of the first cup, leaving the other two to Sam. “Alright, do your worst.”
Needless to say, you wiped the floor with the other two. Barely even gave them a chance. Which is why it was only fair that Clint and Natasha kicked the absolute shit out of the two of you.
You struggled to down your third cup, which is why when you reached for the fourth, Steve shook his head and took it from you, only offering a wink when you opened your mouth to protest.
“Hey! Steve, it’s supposed to be five each.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, she already finished hers.” Steve shrugged, chugging another like it was water. “Right, (Y/N)?”
“Yeah absolutely. What he said.” You shrugged.
You helped clean up the mess a bit after the game was over, rounding up empty cups, wiping down the table, and then washing your hands as Tony switched the music to something upbeat, dancing music.
“Come on, let’s dance.” Steve urged, clearly toeing the line between tipsy and drunk. He reached out for your hand and you couldn’t resist. You didn’t even try.
You let him lead you out to the middle of the room, where Wanda and Vision were already dancing together and looking adorable doing it.
“I thought you couldn’t dance.” You laughed as he spun you around to the music.
“I’m a quick learner.” He whispered, mouth against your ear.
You swore your entire body flushed red, but you let your feet lead you through the dance. Steve took both of your hands, swinging you out and then back in, spinning you around. You blamed the alcohol on what happened next. Your heel caught on the fabric of your dress and you fell over the back of one of the couches, tugging Steve down with you.
He laughed, using an arm to push himself off of you, hovering, eyes soft. “Sorry.”
“It’s my fault. You’ve got me falling for you, Rogers.” You murmured, gazing up at him through your eyelashes.
You said it as a joke, a quip, but there was some truth in it. More than some. It had been a magical, magical night. And if it weren’t for the leather cuff on his wrist, you could see yourself spending the rest of your life with him.
Steve closed his eyes, smiling and sitting up, helping you upright again. “I’ll go get us some water.”
You sighed and sat back against the couch, heart hammering in your chest.
Natasha perched on the armrest, looking down at you. “What was that?”
“Not sure. I think I fumbled the bag. If…if there even was a bag I guess.” You chuckled, shrugging.
“No, there is something there. I can see it.” Natasha said, thinking as she nursed a glass of wine. “Hmmm…”
Steve stood in the kitchen, getting two glasses of filtered water from the fridge. He exhaled a deep sigh, leaning against it. He replayed the moment in his head over and over. The look in your eyes, the way your necklace glimmered in the light, the sound of your voice, the flush of your cheeks. You were catching feelings for him, that much was clear. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing.
Steve Rogers, I am so sorry you will not hear me say these words until after I go back tomorrow, but I love you. I have loved you for a very long time. And I know I will love you for the rest of my life.
Maybe it was a good thing, he reasoned, thinking back on his first night with you all those years ago. But you still couldn’t know why. Not yet.
It was going to kill him to keep it a secret for ten more months.
Timeless
Sherbert rays of the sunrise lit the training room, filling it with a warm orange glow. You were sitting on the floor, stretching your legs while you listened to music. That was another thing on the growing list of skills that had improved during your stint as an Avenger: your flexibility.
Suddenly, Steve was standing over you, saying something you couldn’t hear due to the noise cancelling headphones over your ears.
You slid one off, looking up at him. “Good morning.”
“Morning. You’re here early.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” You shrugged, reaching for your other leg.
“Sorry to hear that. Wanna talk about it?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. I think I drank too much caffeine before bed last night. Learned my lesson. No caffeine after six.”
“That’s a good rule. Mind if I stretch with you?” He asked.
“I don’t mind.” You tossed your headphones onto your workout bag and connected your phone to the Bluetooth speakers, putting on some music you could both listen to.
“I recognize her. This girl’s voice.”
“Taylor Swift.”
“Ah. Yes, her. I keep hearing about her.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” You laughed. “Have you liked any of her songs so far?”
“I don’t know if I could name one for you, to be honest.” He listened to the song that was playing. “This one’s not bad, though.”
“I’ll send you some recommendations. There are some I think you’d really vibe with.”
He smiled. “I’d really like that.”
The others came in not long after, did their warm-ups, and then Steve briefed everyone on the plan for their training session, one in which everyone would swap weapons, practice using each other’s things in case they ever had to in battle if one of their teammates got disarmed.
You started with Clint. He showed you the absolute basics of archery, how to pull back the bow, how to notch an arrow, how to aim, taking into account distance. You fired a few arrows into a target and did okay, you supposed, but you would need some practice if you wanted to actually get good at it. Years of it, realistically.
Natasha showed you how to use her electric batons, which were fun, but did intimidate you a little. You definitely did not want to end up on the wrong end of those things.
And then, inevitably, you were standing in front of Steve. He offered you his shield, which on its own seemed daunting. You held it for a second, assessing the weight of it. It was noticeably lighter than you thought it would be.
“Woah.”
“Yeah. People always expect it to be heavier.” He said, a hand resting on his hip as he watched you hold it. It looked so right in your hands, he decided. “It’s good for a lot of things, but first…” Carefully, he helped you put your arm through the straps on the back of it, holding it in front of your body in its primary and most famous purpose.
You let out a sigh, shaking your head. “This is so crazy.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah, you have no idea.” You chuckled, waving it around a bit.
“You keep looking at it like it’s Thor’s hammer or something.” He teased.
“Feels like it.”
“Well the good news is, this thing is not password protected by some Asgardian magic words. The bad news is, that means the bad guys can pick it up, too.” Steve said, gently positioning your body in an offensive stance, nudging a foot with his own, switching your arms around. “You can use it to bash somebody head on, or you can angle it a bit to get a more direct blow. It will take the force of most things. I…I actually kind of don’t know the limits. Hasn’t failed me yet. The paint does come off from time to time, though, so don’t worry about that.”
“Okay, wow.” You nodded. “Good to know.”
“I trust you with it.” He said, eyes meeting yours.
You smiled, heart racing. “I’m honored.”
He showed you a few other tricks, and then training wrapped up for the day, everyone grabbing some water, taking a shower, or making plans for lunch. Once you walked off with Wanda, Nat cornered Steve.
“What was that?” She asked, that catlike grin on her face.
“What was what?”
“I saw it, you know, the way you looked at her. I think you’ve got a soft spot.”
“Yeah, well, I did rope her into all this. Can’t say I don’t feel responsible for her.” He dodged expertly, weaving through Natasha’s mental gymnastics with skill and precision, or so he thought.
“Uh-huh sure. Well, she, Wanda, and I are going antiquing this afternoon. You should come. After all, you know quite a bit about vintage valuables.”
He laughed. “Hey!”
She walked off, smiling to herself. Steve thought about it for all of four seconds before he decided he would tag along. He hadn’t been to an antique shop in this century, so he couldn’t imagine the kinds of things they had there now. He might even learn a thing or two.
***
After a quick lunch, Steve did decide to tag along. It wound up being him, Vision, and the girls, which he certainly didn’t mind.
You and Wanda were buzzing with excitement, Natasha looking on and following behind with Steve. Vision lingered, studying everything, picking things up to get a closer look. He had projected a human disguise over himself, something Steve didn’t know he could even do, but it seemed to work. No one had batted an eye at him since they stepped foot in the shop.
“This place is…huge.” Steve said, glancing down the hall of the seemingly endless store.
“Biggest one in the state.” You chimed. “It’s the whole city block.”
“There’s a basement, too. And a second floor.” Natasha informed him, patting his arm. “This is gonna be an all day kinda thing.”
“Oh undoubtedly.” He said, setting down the teacup in his hands, a petite, floral thing.
You sifted through a box of records, picking up the soundtrack of the Muppets Movie.
“Is that a frog?”
“This is Kermit thee Frog, show some respect.” You laughed, putting the record in your basket.
“Kermit?” Steve asked again, seeming genuine.
“Oh I forgot you missed the Muppets, oh my god.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t sound familiar.”
“We need to fix that as soon as possible.” You told him. “Can’t have you missing out on cultural icons like Gonzo and Miss Piggy.”
“Okay now you’re making things up.” He chuckled, shuffling through the records as well. You showed him a few good ones and he added them to his basket, saying something about how he’s been meaning to use his new record player.
Wanda browsed some vintage rings, picking out a few, and Natasha rifled through a rack of vintage dresses, most of them from the forties and fifties from the look of it. Nat held up a navy blue one, silky, with short ruffled sleeves and buttons down the front. Steve froze, looking at it. For a moment, it looked just a little too familiar. Like the dress you had worn that night.
Eventually Nat put the dress back. You hadn’t seen it. You were distracted by a shelf of VHS tapes, looking for the old Barbie movies, whatever those were. Wanda was with you, on the next shelf over, calling out movie names when she found something cool.
Steve wandered off on his own, looking around at the different trinkets and toys, old letterman jackets and jewelry, dishes that may or may not contain lead. Finally, he came upon a little room full of art, paintings and photographs, handmade pottery.
Time stood still.
He stared at the large painting on the wall, oil on canvas. Two star-crossed lovers dancing in a bar in Brooklyn, a little guy with a dream, dancing with the most beautiful girl in the world, twirling in her dark blue dress. His heart raced. He never thought he’d see this painting again.
It had been his last painting before leaving for Camp Lehigh, the last painting he did before his life and body changed forever. He’d used the last of his paints to make it, every color mixed with care to get the exact color of your hair, your eyes, your lips, all from memory.
And it was here in front of him. When he had been presumed dead, it must have been sold off. He didn’t really have anyone left it could go to.
In that moment, he wasn’t Captain America. Standing in his shoes was that little guy from Brooklyn.
“Woah.” You murmured, suddenly right next to him. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah, it…it is.” He agreed, looking away from it. He didn’t want you to get too close of a look at it. However, that didn’t stop you from walking forward to inspect it closer.
“‘Soulmates.’ Artist unknown.” You read from the plaque. “Oh, it’s from the 40s. 1943. Does it look familiar?”
“Yeah, actually. Bucky liked that bar.” Steve said, pointing to the details of the interior. “It’s a little place in Brooklyn, called Val’s. Well, it was I guess. I don’t know if it’s still open anymore.”
Your eyes lingered on the woman’s face, on the man’s. You didn’t say anything about how they looked, about the uncanny resemblance to yourself and Steve. Instead, you sighed. “Someday, I want to be that in love with someone.”
He just about cried. But instead, he gathered his words, put a hand on your shoulder, and told you with confidence, “You will be.”
***
Hours later, when you were all shopped out and you’d checked out with your things, Steve stayed at the counter while the rest of you went to the car.
“Hey, um, that painting in the art room. The soulmates in the bar. I’m interested in buying it. Would it be possible to have it held here for a while, though?”
“Oh I’m sure we could arrange something,” said the old man at the counter with a smile and a nod. He started writing out the purchase form.
Steve glanced back towards where it was, that fragment of his soul he didn’t think he’d ever see again. He knew the fact that he’d stumbled upon it was nothing short of fate.
Wildest Dreams
It had been Tony’s idea. Of course it had. It always was, wasn’t it? He’d insisted that all the members of the team who hadn’t yet been exposed to Wanda’s mind manipulation should be, just in case there was a misfire during combat and one of you got caught in the crossfire. It would be important to see how each of you reacted, the kinds of things you saw so you’d be able to snap out of it.
Theoretically, of course.
This left Natasha, Steve, Thor, Bruce, and Tony out, as they’d already had their fun with Wanda’s magic. The rest of you, however, were waiting for your turn.
Wanda felt conflicted about it. She didn’t want to hurt her friends on accident, let alone on purpose, but Tony was insistent, and he had some of the others on his side. Namely, Rhodey, who had been hanging out more and more, and Clint, who’d had his experience with a different kind of mind control shortly before the Battle of New York.
It was part of why he’d volunteered to go first. Once he came to, he gave you a thumbs-up, shaking it off and walking over to Natasha.
“You sure you’re good?” She checked.
“Yeah, I’m fine. No big deal. Who’s next?”
Sam looked at you and the despondent look on your face before volunteering himself to go next. Rhodey went in solidarity, despite being too busy with his government responsibilities to be a full-time member of the team. And then it was your turn. You stood next to Wanda. She offered an apologetic smile before red crackled around her fingertips and it hit you.
For the first few seconds, you were fine. You felt tingly. You blinked a few times and your eyes felt weird. No doubt, your eyes were red, like the others’ turned when they were under the influence of Wanda’s powers.
“Hey, (Y/N), you okay?” Steve asked, voice urgent.
“Think so.” You replied, mouth full of cotton. It felt like that time in college someone had given you an edible that was too strong. The first and last time you’d ever gotten high. Like you were sinking and melting. Your legs buckled and Steve surged forward, catching you before you hit the floor, gently lowering you into a comfortable position. “Hey, you’re pretty strong…” You murmured, head lolling onto his shoulder.
The others all looked at each other. Clint dragged over a bean bag and Steve gently lowered you onto it, adjusting it so you’d be comfortable.
“She’ll be okay, Steve.” Natasha reassured him, the guilt in his eyes palpable, yet still not explained. Not entirely. She had a sneaking suspicion whatever it was had something to do with the name written on his wrist, the name he wouldn’t show anyone. Not her, not Nick Fury, not even Sam.
“Yeah, I know.” He nodded, slowly taking a step back. His eyes didn’t leave you. He had to force himself to look away. “I, um…I have to go…There’s a…” Steve motioned towards the door before leaving the room, while you sat there, catatonic, off in your own little world.
***
“Hey, (Y/N), you okay?” Steve asked, his voice close. “That was a long nap. Forget to set your alarm?”
You opened your eyes and you were laying down on the couch. Steve was standing at the island in the kitchen, cooking something. It smelled good. Really good. He was wearing a button-up, sleeves rolled to his elbows, still wearing his slacks from work. He had music playing from the record player, your vast collection of hits from decades of music, and he was still hooked on 40s jazz. You supposed you couldn’t blame him.
“You cooking?”
“Mmhmm.” He nodded. “Come over here and get a taste.”
You followed, out to the kitchen. He set down his wooden spoon and swiftly intercepted you, pulling you up onto the countertop, kissing you deeply, a hand running through your hair. Your hand came up to frame his cheek. He was growing a bit of a beard these days. You liked it, thought it suited him.
You sighed against his lips and then pulled away to look at him. He grabbed your wrist, pressing a long kiss to your soulmark. Three simple words. Steven Grant Rogers.
“I love you, doll.” His words cut through you, eyes tender and sincere. “Always have.”
But this wasn’t your Steve. And it wasn’t your reality, given away by the slightest tinge of red in his irises.
It wasn’t real. And neither was the glimmering wedding ring around your finger.
***
You blinked awake, the power dispersing from your head, leaving you shockingly sober. And hungry. That familiar sting was back, right between your neck and shoulder. You wondered how long it’d been.
Clint was in the room with you. So was Sam. Natasha was gone. Wanda too, surprisingly. As was Steve.
You got chills even thinking about him, the phantom of the wedding ring still clinging to your finger.
“You alright?” Sam asked, making eye contact with you first.
“Yeah, I’m good. How long…?”
“Three minutes. New record.” Clint said with a grin.
“Oh.” No wonder it had felt so short. Part of you wanted it to last longer.
“We’re sending Rhodey to get some food, if you’re hungry.” Sam said.
“Where from?”
“The golden arches.”
“I could go for some nuggies.” You admitted. “A McFlurry, perchance.”
Clint laughed. “How did I know you would say that?”
In the kitchen, Steve stood, hands on the counter, mug of coffee steaming in front of him, untouched. He stared at the cupboard door.
“That must be one interesting cupboard. You’ve been standing there for like five whole minutes.”
“It’s only been three.” Steve said, glancing at the clock.
“And the fact that you know down to the exact minute is why I’m so intrigued.” Natasha chimed, tilting her head. “What is going on with her? I have never seen you look at anyone like that in the entire time I’ve known you. Is she…what, the kid of an old friend? Grandkid?”
“It’s nothing, Natasha. She’s the newest member of the team, I’m just worried—”
“Steve.” She said, cutting him off, that look in her eye. “If you want to get all defensive about it, fine. Keep your secrets.” She sighed. “But if you need someone, I’m here. Whatever it is, you don’t have to carry it alone.”
Steve let out a long sigh, weighing his options. It was something to the tune of eight months until your birthday. That was still a long time. A lot of time for that secret to slip through the cracks and, potentially, break the timeline. The Butterfly Effect was something he had researched extensively. Your future together was something he wasn’t willing to risk.
No, it was too important that you stay in the dark, even if that meant keeping his friends in the dark, too.
“Thanks. I appreciate it. But I’m fine, really. It’s nothing.”
“Uh-huh.” She nodded unconvinced. “Well, she’s out of it. Clint just texted. She wants twenty chicken nuggets and an Oreo McFlurry.”
The relief was immediate. You were okay. He could only wonder what you had seen in there, and why it had been so quick. The others had been under for upwards of ten minutes. You’d only been down three. “Well good. I’ll let Rhodey know.”
Invisible String
It was late. A few weeks after your tussle with the Scarlet Witch, if you could even call it that. You could tell Wanda felt guilty about the whole thing, but it wasn’t her fault. If anything it was Tony’s. Sure, the exercise had prepared you for a worst case scenario, but it had also dug a very awkward gap between you and Steve. You could barely even look at him without wanting to burst into tears.
He had his soulmate, whoever they were. You really needed to let it go.
You walked down to the kitchen to get a cold drink, but there was already someone sitting at the table. Steve, sitting there, hand resting on his chin, papers spread out in front of him. There was a picture you recognized as Bucky Barnes.
You’d heard whispers of him around the Compound from time to time. Steve’s best friend turned Hydra assassin, brainwashed for decades and now, rogue, out there somewhere. Sam always seemed to be looking for the guy. Natasha and Clint, too. And there had never been any sign of him. Well, until now, it seemed.
On the TV, Star Wars was playing. Empire Strikes Back. Steve looked up at it every so often.
“Star Wars?” You asked.
He chuckled and nodded. “Yeah.”
“Your first time?”
“No. They were the first things I watched when I was out of the ice. I like them a lot. The hope, the Force, the Jedi stuff, the music.” He shrugged. “They’re good.”
“Who’s your favorite?”
Steve smiled, sheepish. “Han Solo.”
“And here I thought you’d say Luke Skywalker.”
“He’s great, too. You like Star Wars?”
“Yeah, I used to be obsessed with them in high school. Haven’t seen them in a while, though. I’m something of a Leia girl myself.”
“That makes a lot of sense.”
“Does it?”
“Oh yeah.” He nodded. “You’ve got that spark.”
“What order did you watch them in?”
“Nat made me watch the originals first.” He confessed. “I like the prequels, though. Well, two of the prequels. Phantom Menace is…”
“Oh yeah. You’re not alone in that.” You laughed softly. “You know, I never really pegged you as a sci-fi nerd.”
“Yeah, well, someone I really care about seemed to like them a whole lot, so I knew I had to check them out.” He shrugged. “What are you doing up so late?”
“Getting a drink. What are you doing up so late?”
He looked down at the papers and then back up at you. “Oh. Yeah, this is just…Trying to get some stuff figured out.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” You offered.
He thought about it for a long moment, letting out a little sigh before nodding. That was the only reassurance you needed before grabbing a can of soda from the fridge and plopping down into the seat next to him.
“They found him. Clint and Natasha. They think he’s hiding out in Kentucky somewhere.” Steve said. He shook his head. “He saved my life a few years ago. After all the brainwashing, he still pulled me out of the water. I don’t know how much of him is still him, but…”
“But it’s worth a try.” You reasoned. “Obviously he’s been through a lot, but he must be pretty strong to have made it through everything.”
“I don’t know when I’m going. They haven’t narrowed it down all the way. And Tony doesn’t want me to even go at all.”
“Tony is full of shit.”
He laughed. “Yeah…”
“If you want to go, you should go. And if you need me, I’m there. You shouldn’t have to do it alone.”
He met your eyes with a sobering gaze. “You mean it?”
“Yeah, of course.” You agreed. “When, uh, when I was in the eighth grade, my class took a trip down to DC. There’s a Captain America exhibit in the Air and Space Museum, it had just opened. We learned about you and Bucky. How close you were, what happened. There are videos of me just crying uncontrollably there, learning about it. They had to take me outside, get me some water. I couldn’t go back in. I don’t even know why. Something about it…”
“About me?” Steve whispered.
“That’s embarrassing. I shouldn’t have told you that.” You chuckled, shaking your head.
“It’s not embarrassing. It’s sweet.” Steve said, reaching for your hand on the table. You let him take it, fingers curling.
“So when you found me that day, I guess I always knew it would lead to something like this. A stroke of fate, or something.” You admitted. “Some part of me knew that you would mean something to me someday. I guess I never thought we would be friends.”
“How old were you?”
“God, this would have been like ten years ago at this point. I was like fourteen or something. I was twenty-one when they found you in the ice. It was all over the news my sophomore year of college, kind of right when I was figuring my powers out, actually. And then everything was all over the news and I…went into hiding more or less, hoping it wouldn’t be me on the TV next.”
“Until the mall?”
“Yeah. But I couldn’t just…let it happen, you know? It was like some part of me knew that I had these powers for a reason, and that if I didn’t stop it, who would? I didn’t know you were there, obviously, but, I think even if I had, I still would have jumped in.”
He smiled softly, eyes earnest. He gave your hand a squeeze. “Well I’m really glad you did, for the record. I think we’re all a little better off because of it.”
There was a moment of quiet. “Steve?”
“Yeah?”
“How old are you?”
“Oh, um…I’m ninety-eight.”
You chuckled. “No, like how old are you really?”
Steve took a breath. No one ever asked him that. No one really cared about that. No one except you, it seemed. “I’m not sure. I’d have to do some math. I think I’m twenty-eight maybe. Twenty-nine.”
“Thought so.” You smiled. “Well, Steve, whenever you get it figured out, say the word and I’ll suit up. We’ll bring him home.”
Out of the Woods
The next mission you were sent on wasn’t to bring back Bucky. Not yet. Instead, you were on the team that got deployed into a rainforest to break up a rogue Hydra base. It was warm, almost too warm for your uniform, but you were grateful for the coverage, especially when they started shooting.
You ran down the makeshift path, evading enemies and throwing up forcefields to stop them in their tracks. Thor was in town, so he was zipping around through the trees with his hammer, the force of it bringing some down every once in a while.
“On your six.” Steve reported through the comms. You dodged out of the way and sure enough, a Hydra agent tumbled ahead, tripped by a small field you cast at his feet. A few of Natasha’s bullets took care of that.
“Thanks.” You replied.
“Don’t mention it. I could actually use some backup. I’m in the building. There’s more of them than I thought there would be.”
“I’m on my way.” You reported, changing directions and sprinting towards the building housing the Hydra base. What they were doing here, you had no clue, but Bruce theorized it had something to do with a meteor that had landed out that way a few months prior. They were probably harvesting whatever materials had been inside it.
You kicked down the door. Steve had six guys on him, two of which he disposed of quickly. You made a portal beneath one guy, sending him falling down a flight of stairs with the second portal you opened.
The other three guys went down quickly enough, only for a guy in a giant mech armor to come crashing through the interior wall. He shot and Steve jumped in front of you, taking a hit to the neck. A tiny syringe filled with shimmering purple liquid.
“Fuck! Steve!” You ran to him, but that didn’t take care of the large problem looming behind you. Seeing red, you made another portal at the feet of the robot, opened it in the ceiling, and cut it off as it was halfway through, destroying it in a flash of sparks and shredded metal. It shut down, giving you time to get to Steve.
He was sitting against the wall, head slumped to the side. You took the syringe out of his neck, tucking it into a pouch on your belt for testing. If this thing was poison, you’d need Bruce to start whipping up an antidote as soon as possible.
“Steve, hey, stay with me.” You touched his face, trying to wake him.
At your touch, he blinked a few times, drowsy. He gave you a crooked smile. “Heyyy, there you are.”
“Come on, we’ve gotta get you back to the jet.” You told him, pulling him to his feet, but he slumped in your arms like dead weight. You had been working out since you’d been recruited, but he was still heavy. “You’ve gotta work with me, big guy.”
“They used to call me little guy.” He murmured, sounding drunk. “Back in Brooklyn.”
“I’m sure they did.” You slung his arm around your shoulders and started hauling ass out of the building. A few agents shot at you, trying to hit you while you were distracted with carrying Steve to safety, but they forgot you were the one Avenger whose specialty was defense.
You lit a forcefield in your left hand, using its faint blue light to guide the two of you through the dim hallways. It slowed all the bullets to a stop, causing them to drop to the floor harmlessly. There was something kind of poetic about it, you supposed. Steve was so famous for that shield of his, but now you were the shield, protecting him.
“Did you guys find anything in there?” Clint asked.
“The good news is, we cleared most of it out. Bad news is, Steve got shot with something. I’m bringing him back to the ship now. I don’t know what it was but he’s acting really drunk.”
“Tranq darts seem to have that effect on him, yeah.” Bruce explained. “Bring him back here and I’ll make sure it wasn’t laced with something else.”
“On it.”
You lugged Steve along, stopping to rest and readjust against a wall for a second.
“Thank you for takin’ care of me even when I don’t feel so good.” He said, leaning his full weight against you.
“Of course, Steve. I’ve got ya.” You pulled his arm around your shoulders again. “You would do the same for any of us.”
He smiled, face impossibly close to yours. “Oh, I’d do anything for you, (Y/N).”
You knew it was probably just the drugs talking but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t do something to you when he said it anyway.
Once you were outside, you opened a waypoint in front of the two of you, the second portal in front of the jet, and then stepped through, closing it behind you. Bruce opened the door and helped you haul Steve inside, onto the cot of the makeshift mobile infirmary.
You handed Bruce the empty vial.
“Thank you for remembering. Thor always breaks these and then I have to do bloodwork to figure out what was in them.” He chuckled.
“He’s very smash first, ask questions later.”
“No wonder he and Hulk get along so well.” Bruce joked. “Alright, get back out there. I’ll make sure he’s alright.”
“Thank you.”
“Be careful out there.” Steve advised, eyes half-lidded. “They have guns.”
“I’ll be extra careful, alright? I promise.” You met his eyes and he smiled immediately. Once you were sure he was okay, you stepped out of the jet again, getting back to help the others.
***
When you got back, you were nursing a bullet wound. They’d gotten you in the arm. It wasn’t too bad, though, the bleeding had almost stopped. Natasha went straight for the med kit when you two stepped foot on the jet, motioning you over to the stool.
Steve was there, still on the cot. He stared as Nat started cleaning your wound. “Wait, you got hurt?”
“I’m okay. It’s not that bad.”
He nodded and reached for your hand. “I’m really glad you’re alright, doll. Had me worried sick.”
Doll. You replayed the word in your mind. Steve had called you a lot of things in the past few months, but never once had he used that somewhat outdated term of endearment. You liked it, though.
You met Natasha’s eyes and she smirked while the supersoldier held your hand.
Sam walked in next, eyeing up the scene unfolding in front of him. “Woah, what’d I miss? Feels like I missed several chapters.”
“Steve is drunk.” Clint explained, counting his remaining arrows.
“Tranq dart. He’s fine. Just needs to ride it out for a few hours. He should be back to normal by the time we get home.” Bruce explained as he put away his tablet.
“You feeling alright, buddy?” Sam walked over and put a hand on Steve’s other arm. “You’re holding (Y/N)’s hand kinda tight there.”
“Huh?” Steve asked, directing his eyes to your joint hands. He let go. “Oh. Sorry.”
“It’s okay, Steve.” You reassured him.
The others trickled in slowly until everyone was accounted for, the base destroyed, the Hydra operatives in SHIELD custody for questioning. Fury and his team would handle it from there. You couldn’t help but play the mission over and over in your head.
Never had you used a waypoint to split something in half. But something had clicked in you when Steve was hurt. You’d never felt like that before, like part of your soul itself was being ripped out. He meant more to you than you cared to admit, especially when your fate was tied elsewhere.
Still, your new ability needed training. It was a dangerous skill to have, and if you didn’t hone it properly, you could end up doing some serious damage on accident.
Come Find Me in the Future
It was the night before you and a select group of the team were heading out to find and recover Bucky. Clint had finally gotten a hit on him. But if he had, that meant others could be after him, too. People that wanted him back. Badly.
You were nervous about it for that reason. You weren’t sure why the rest of you hadn’t already left, to be honest. You didn’t want to race with Hydra. It wasn’t one you were sure you’d win.
To stave off the feeling of dread, you had commandeered the living room TV and popped in Howl’s Moving Castle. You were nursing a mug of chamomile tea in your hands, playing games on your Switch.
You were near the end of the movie, at the part where Sophie was whisked to the past, when Steve walked into the room, in his pajamas, a tank top and a pair of plaid pants.
“Hey, Steve.”
“Hey. You’re up late. Big mission tomorrow.”
“Yeah, it’s almost over.” You told him. “Drinking my sleepy tea as we speak.”
“Sleepy tea?”
“Chamomile mint. It’s good. There’s some over by the Keurig if you want any.”
“Thanks.” He smiled, walking over. “What’s this?”
“Howl’s Moving Castle. One of my favorites.” You told him.
“What’s it about?”
“That is a complicated question.” You laughed. “I’d have to start it over, I think.”
“Another time, maybe.” He chuckled, crossing his arms.
Steve watched as Sophie got sucked back through the wormhole to the present.
She called out “I know how to help you now! Find me in the future!”
He perked up. “Wait, she…there’s time travel?”
“Yeah, she gets pulled into the past for a bit and tells him to find her and then years later, the first words he says to her are ‘There you are, sweetheart. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’ It’s really sweet.”
“They’re soulmates?”
“They are.” You nodded.
“Does that happen? Often?” Steve asked, hung up on it. “In real life?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve never heard of that happening before.” You shook your head. “I don’t think anyone would believe it, even if it did. Happens a lot in fiction, though.”
“Oh. Cool.” Steve nodded. He met your eyes and then looked down at his lap, tongue flitting across his pink lips. “I, uh, wanted to apologize.”
You furrowed your eyebrows. “For what?”
“The mission last week. I, uh…I said some things and, uh…I just, I’d hate to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry if I did.”
“You didn’t.” You assured him. “No apology necessary. You were drugged. I probably would have said worse, to be honest.”
He smiled. “Okay. Cool. Thanks. And thank you for agreeing to come tomorrow. We could really use the help.”
“Of course. I’ve got your back, always.” You told him, earning another one of those earnest, lovesick smiles. “Anywho, I finished that playlist for you. The Taylor Swift one. I can make you a more general one with different songs, but…figured that was a decent starting place.”
“Great, yeah, thank you.” He nodded, looking at his phone as it pinged with the notification you had sent it to him. “I’ll give it a listen.”
“Let me know what you think.”
“Oh I will.” He chuckled to himself. “Really, thank you. I appreciate it. And um, have a good night. See you tomorrow.”
“Bright and early.” You saluted.
He nodded before repeating, “Bright and early.”
Bygones
Bright and early was an understatement. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when your alarm went off. You groaned, rolled over and silenced your screaming phone, forcing yourself to sit up so you didn’t drift back off.
Today was too important for that.
Instead, you got up, brushed your hair, and went out to the kitchen, where Vision had whipped up a full breakfast for everyone going out. It was you, Steve, Nat, Wanda, and Sam. A small team, but enough firepower to bring him back without overwhelming and/or scaring him off.
“Morning.” Steve said, eyes landing on you the moment you walked into the room.
“Morning.”
“Coffee?” He offered, pushing a cup of your favorite iced coffee over to you. You couldn’t lie, you were impressed.
“Thanks.” You grinned, taking a long sip to kickstart your morning. You loaded a plate up with eggs, sausage, bacon, and toast, plus a little side of hashbrowns, thanking Vision thoroughly.
“It is my pleasure, (Y/N). As someone who does not require sleep, it would be rude of me to let you all starve so early in the day.”
“(Y/N), you got him listening to Taylor Swift?” Sam asked, eyes drilling into you.
You laughed. “Uh, yeah. What about it? She’s a cultural icon, do you want him left out of the loop?”
“Hey, I’m not complaining.” Steve shrugged, sipping on his coffee.
“Of course you’re not.” Natasha chuckled, words warbled by her own cup. You noticed the way her lips pursed. If you weren’t mistaken, you’d say she was nervous. About what, you couldn’t tell. She seldom got nervous. Or at least, she seldom let it show. But it was definitely there.
Wanda was the last into the kitchen, already fully put together. She gave the chef her thanks with a warm smile and sparkling eyes. You couldn’t help but smile. Those two, beyond a shadow of a doubt, were absolutely made for each other. You wondered what her wrist would have to say about it when the time came.
Once everyone had eaten, those who weren’t suited up got ready, locked and loaded for a tense mission. You’d have Clint on the coms here, doing recon from a drone. The rest of you loaded up onto the jet, strapping in.
Nat and Sam hopped into the cockpit. Wanda sat next to you, Steve across the aisle, his eyes meeting yours every so often.
“It’ll be alright.” You said, trying to dispel his nerves.
He nodded, but didn’t reply, just giving a short nod and staring at the holographic map on the wall as you approached closer and closer. You could see that little guy from Brooklyn peeking through the eyes of the supersoldier sitting across from you, nervous about his best friend.
You unbuckled just before you landed, walking across the jet to strap on your weapons. The others did the same, arming themselves. Nat was going to keep the jet warm for a speedy exit, the look in her eyes still unreadable. The rest of you got ready for war.
It was an abandoned warehouse, large garage door, broken windows, slanted roof with a hole in it. Definitely not the most secure of places. According to Clint’s drone, Bucky was in the back room.
“Waypoint, I need you out here ready to get us a quick escape.”
“Got it.” You nodded, positioning yourself within eyeshot of the warehouse and the jet so you could make a portal either way.
“Wanda, Sam, you’re with me.” Steve instructed, taking a minute to breathe, to think. “He’s gonna be ready to run. We have to talk him out of it.”
“Uh, Cap. Might wanna work a little faster. There’s another plane incoming. About three minutes out.”
“Alright.” Steve nodded, taking off his helmet and slinging his shield onto his back. He led the other two into the building.
For a heartwrenching two minutes, you didn’t hear anything. And then you heard a plane. And then gunshots.
“(Y/N), now!” Steve instructed.
You did as you were told, opening the waypoint in the warehouse, another just outside. Nat had picked the jet up off of the ground, firing at the one Hydra had brought. She took another shot, damaging the wing and causing it to go down.
“Shit, wait—!”
There was a flash of light and you expected it to be Steve that came through first. Maybe Bucky, even. Instead, it was a grenade. And a split second later, it exploded, knocking you unconscious.
***
Steve stood over you, horrified. Thanks to your suit, the damage didn’t seem too bad. But you had blood and soot caked on your face, the ends of your hair singed.
It was his fault. He had told you to open the Waypoint, only for a Hydra agent to toss a grenade right through it.
He all but collapsed to his knees, collecting you in his arms. Bucky was on the jet already, Sam, too. Only he and Wanda were outside with you.
“(Y/N), come on. Open those eyes for me.” He pleaded, voice soft, eyes aching with tears. “Hey, come on. Please…”
“We should get her back to the jet.” Wanda goaded softly, a hand on Steve’s arm.
“Yeah.” Steve nodded, a tear slipping down his cheek. He scooped you off of the ground, an arm beneath your legs, the other around your back. Your arms hung down, limp. Your head rested heavily against his shoulder, eyes closed.
By the time Steve walked up the ramp, Nat already had the infirmary cot down, ready to go. Bucky watched, eyes intense. He looked up when Steve approached, eyes falling on you. They widened when he got a look at you.
“Woah, is that…?”
“Yeah.” Steve nodded. “It is.”
Natasha helped him get you situated in the cot, wrapping the cuff around your arm that would measure your vitals. With everyone accounted for, Sam closed the door, lifting the jet into the air.
“I’ve got Banner on the line.” Natasha told him.
“Good.” Steve’s eyes didn’t leave you for a second, watching as the breaths entered and left your lungs. “Tell him to get the infirmary ready for her.”
“Already on it, Cap. She’ll be okay. Her vitals look…well they look good, all things considered.” Bruce relayed. “Just get back here as fast as you can.”
***
As soon as the jet landed, Steve unhooked you from the vitals monitor and collected you in his arms, carrying you to the gurney Bruce had ready, walking with him as he wheeled you towards the infirmary. Bruce insisted he needed some time and sent Steve away, taking a piece of his heart with him.
Vision checked over Bucky, giving him the okay almost immediately before going to help Bruce in the infirmary.
Steve sat at the table, Bucky sitting down to join him. The others gave them a minute alone.
“Hey, pal.” Steve exhaled, trying to force a smile. “Glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” He agreed. “Thanks for coming to get me.”
“Of course.” Steve nodded. “I’m with you—”
“Til the end of the line.” Bucky smiled, eyes soft. His irises flicked towards the infirmary and back. “You wanna talk about it?”
Steve let out a sigh, the wall finally coming down and more tears slipping down his cheeks. “It’s my fault, it’s all my fault. She’s—”
“She’s gonna be fine. I promise you.” Bucky’s hand grabbed onto Steve’s wrist, the covered one. The one with her name etched onto it. “She has to be. Has she…does she know yet?”
“No one does. Just me. And you.” Steve confessed. He wiped his thumb under his eye. “So you’re right. She has to pull through.”
Steve held onto that spark of hope for the coming hours. He showed Bucky to the room that had been prepared for him, but Sam offered to give him a tour of the place, knowing their friend was in a fragile mental state.
Eventually, Vision found him and told him he could enter the infirmary. Bruce had finished treating you. When Steve walked in and saw you, still unconscious, laying on that bed, he choked on more sobs. The bruising on your face was pretty severe. You were hooked up to several monitors, an IV. Supposedly, your injuries were not too extreme, but you had a cracked rib and would need time to heal before you could do any missions or training.
Hours later, Nat found Steve in there, wringing his hands, tears in his eyes. He fiddled with the cuff around his wrist. The playlist you’d made for him played softly from a speaker in the corner of the room. Timeless. As if he wasn’t already crying enough.
“She’s gonna be okay, Steve. Bruce thinks she might wake up soon.” Nat comforted, sitting in the chair next to him. She put a hand on his shoulder, confused by her friend’s sudden mood. Members of the team had been injured before and sure, he checked on them, but he never reacted like this.
“I know, I just…” He shook his head. “I’m worried about her is all. It’s…kinda my fault this happened.”
Nat pressed her lips together, tilting her head. “This seems like a little more than that. You wanna tell me what’s really going on?”
He wanted to hold onto his secret. He did. But he was feeling fragile, vulnerable. It couldn’t hurt to have just one more person on his side. “I can, just…not here.” Steve nodded, leading her out of the room, out of your earshot, if you could even hear him while you were out, but still in sight thanks to the soundproof windows.
Nat’s hands settled on her hips, waiting for an answer. Instead, Steve took the cuff off of his wrist and held it out to her, letting her read the letters that had been etched there for the better part of a century.
Her jaw dropped. She stammered, arms crossing. She met his eyes and when she saw the sadness there, the guilt and longing, her expression softened.
“I should have told her. A long time ago, I should have told her but I can’t. In six months, on her twenty-fifth, she’s going back in time to 1943 to meet me on mine. And it…didn’t seem like she knew until she was already there.”
“So you’ve just been holding it in this whole time?” Natasha asked. “You’ve been in love with her…”
“Since the forties, yeah.” Steve nodded. “My great lost love, as Tony likes to call her when he rags on the band I wear.”
“Does he know?”
“No. Just you. And Bucky.” Steve amended. “He was there when she…”
“Right. Weird.” Natasha let out a long sigh, looking through the window. Her fingers reached for her own cuff. She hesitated, but pulled it off, holding her soulmark out to him. “Fair is fair.”
Steve stared at the letters for a long time, realization slowly filling his eyes. The name on her wrist was none other than James Buchannan Barnes. “Oh my God.”
“I didn’t know how to tell you until all the dust settled, but it just settled, so…” She shrugged, putting the cuff back on. “I’ll figure out how to tell him, too, if he doesn’t know already.”
“Buck’s mark was grayed out back then. We thought…well, we didn’t know what it meant.” Steve said, shaking his head. It was the reason Bucky had dated around so much back then. He’d figured if he just found someone else, his mark would change and he wouldn’t have to be alone. Never could he have guessed what it actually meant, that his soulmate wouldn’t be born for another forty or so years. “And then he lost his arm…”
“Yeah, that part I did know.” She smirked. “Well, I’ll keep an eye on her. Let you know if she says anything you need to hear.”
“She probably thinks my soulmate is dead, too. Everyone else does.”
“Ironic.”
“No kidding.” Steve sighed, gazing longingly through the window.
“We’ll get you through it, Steve. You’ve waited seventy years. Six months is nothing.”
“Yeah. I’m gonna sit with her for a while. I don’t want her to wake up alone.”
He slinked back into the infirmary and sat in the chair beside your bed, watching your steady breaths and listening to the beeping of the heart monitor. Natasha watched him through the window, feeling lighter and heavier at the same time. Nevertheless, she was glad they had talked. At least now, they could be there for each other.
Vol. 2 Here
Tags: @cap-lu20
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