Chapter Text
Previously
“Long story short, one of the flunkies of Castillo, the arms dealer we’re tracking, shot Steve with a syringe and now he looks like this.” Tony didn’t even bother pouring his Scotch into a glass with one of his fancy spherical ice cubes. He drank it right from the bottle, and that was more than a little disquieting.
“Okay, let’s get you a glass,” you chided, still speaking in a whisper, taking the bottle from his fingers. “So what’s the long story? Because I’m assuming you’ve called me in because it could be catastrophic if this were leaked to the public, that Captain America is weaker than a fifth grader!”
“The long story,” Natasha cut in from her position at the table across the kitchen; apparently you hadn’t been as quiet as you’d assumed, “is that we had bad intel. We walked right into a trap when we tried to bust one of Castillo’s minor distribution warehouses outside of La Plata.”
You and Tony brought over a variety of beer, wine, and liquor bottles and glasses to match while Natasha continued, reaching across the table for the vodka and a tumbler, “Castillo must have been working on developing a new chemical weapon, something that could take down Captain America or the Winter Soldier without killing them. A sort of symbolic defeat of the strength of the Avengers, one that would make headlines. We have kind of been a thorn in his side for several years now.”
...
“Who died? You all look positively miserable!” Your forced smile fell as soon as they looked up at you. “Okay, seriously?”
Sam spoke up, a heavy look on his face, “Dr. Aguirre, that’s who.”
You gave a confused shake of your head and shrugged your shoulders slightly. You had no idea who that was.
Tony clarified, “Aguirre was one of the researchers working for Castillo, the one Sam, Rhodey, and Clint apprehended.” Realization dawned on you as new questions of ‘when’ and ‘how’ flooded your mind, and the questions must have been evident on your face as Tony continued, “He was found dead in his holding cell right after I texted you. It’s not yet clear if it was a suicide or foul play, but we’ve got crime scene techs combing the whole cell block for evidence in case it’s the latter.”
A Year and Some Months Later
“Never have I ever…gone streaking,” Steve called over the loud music Sam and Natasha had insisted on blasting from every speaker, his eyes fixed on yours, smirk taunting you.
You’d had only two fingers left up, so you lowered your index, effectively flipping him off before taking your shot, though you couldn’t help but smile back at him. You’d have your revenge. Unfortunately, no one else dropped a finger for that challenge, not even Tony, who then promptly fixed you with a dangerous smile.
“Y/N, spill, now,” Tony called, looking like a kid on Christmas morning.
You shook your head, unable to keep the smile off your face, though you were fairly certain that had as much to do with the drinks as the game. “Let’s just say, that none a’yall knew me in college and leave it at that,” you slurred out.
“Ah, c’mon, I always knew you had a secret side, and you can’t hide it forever,” Tony laughed out, clearly not wanting to ‘leave it at that.’
“I told Steve, the traitor, that story in confidence. You will have to torture me to get me to talk or magically make me drunker than I already am. Now!” Your voice was a little slurred, just a little too loud, “I believe it’s my turn.” You locked eyes with Steve, and he at least had the decency to let a nervous glint flicker across his eyes.
“Wanda, I’m sorry. You’re just collateral damage, nothing personal,” you preambled, still not looking away from Steve, “Never have I ever,” you paused for dramatic effect, “let a German scientist experiment on me and turn me into an enhanced super hero.”
Wanda let out a groan as she dropped a finger, “Damn it, Y/N!”
Steve, on the other hand, pursed his lips, unsuccessfully attempting to hide a mirthful smile as he slowly lowered his index finger, flipping you off in return, his brow cocking suggestively. You couldn’t tell if it were the rum and coke or his expression that was making your cheeks feel so unbearably warm as you stared right back.
“Geez, will you two get a room?!” Sam growled, feigning irritation at your obvious flirting.
You just smiled and choked out a laugh, rolling your eyes at yourself as much as at Sam. For all the shit he and Bucky gave you and Steve, you both knew it was all in good fun.
“Actually, that sounds like a great idea, Sam. Thank you,” Steve quickly replied, standing from his seat across the coffee table. “I’d much rather spend my last night here with Y/N than any of you ugly bastards.”
There was a chorus of groans as you rose to your feet with a laugh that almost sounded genuine, Steve’s words ringing in your ears.
...last night here...
After a round of ‘goodbyes’ and ‘get home safes,’ you and Steve made your way to the elevators, you leaning into his firm chest more to keep from stumbling than anything else. You were pretty sure that your smiles seemed as lighthearted as you’d intended.
Then the doors shut, enveloping you and Steve in a silence that contrasted sharply with the din of the common room, your ears ringing slightly in the sudden calm. You fixed your eyes on the floor.
You could hear Steve let out a long held breath, “Y/N, you can put up a front for the others, but you don’t have to do that for me.”
You chanced peeking at him from your peripheral vision, “What do you mean?” Your voice cracked slightly, ruining the casual tone you’d attempted.
“Y/N, I’m going to be gone for more than a month, a whole month that I won’t be able to see you, talk to you, or have anything to do with you. And every time someone brings up this mission, you get quiet and distant. This is our last night together, and while I don’t want to argue, I think you at least owe me the truth.” His brows were pinched, and his eyes slightly dewy as he finished.
The words stung a little, but mostly because Steve was right. “I know,” you sighed, a long pause hanging in the air.
“What’s going on in there?” He gently tapped the side of your head with the pad of his index and middle fingers.
You took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “I don’t want you to go on this mission, Steve. But I know that I have no right to ask that of you, so I opted for awkward silences instead.”
Steve let out a breathy laugh, gently taking your shoulders and turning you to face him. “You really think I hadn’t figured that out already?” He ducked his head down, finally catching your lowered eyes, a warm smile lighting his face.
You leaned your head forward, letting it press against his as you began, voice barely a whisper, “I know why you wanted this mission. It’s personal for you, and that’s what scares me most. Castillo painted a target on you, and now you’re gonna walk right back into his line of sight.”
You looked anywhere but his eyes, “Steve. If something happens to you, I—” Your voice cracked, and you shut your mouth abruptly.
Luckily, you were saved by the bell, as it were, as the elevator doors opened with a ping. Steve gave you a soft but piercing stare that all but screamed, ‘I love you, but there’s no way in hell we’re done with this conversation.’
The vaguely unsettled silence pervaded the air between you both as you and he slipped on your helmets—you’d finally convinced him to wear one, super soldier or not. He revved the motorcycle to life, and even with your raw nerves, you had to bite your lip to keep from wolf-whistling at him before you confidently straddled behind him on the seat, taking a firm but comfortable hold around his middle, a stark contrast to the timidity you’d felt that first ride on his bike just over a year ago.
And before you knew it, he was sweeping down the ever busy streets of Manhattan to Queens with a kind of grace that clashed with his loudness of his motorcycle.
When the roar of the engine finally died down and your helmets were removed, you and he were inexplicably still astride the bike, your arms reclaiming their hold around Steve’s chest and Steve’s hands still resting on the handlebars.
“I’ve never loved anyone before you, Steve,” you spoke the words almost without meaning to, before your mind could shut your mouth for you. You buried your face into the dip between his shoulder blades.
Steve remained patiently silent, letting you set the pace, letting you decide when to speak again.
“I’ve dated before you, almost a whole year with one ex, but I’ve never loved any of them. Once things got emotional, I’d usually just bail,” you paused, but the strange anonymity of not having to look Steve in the face made it easier somehow to speak.
“I’ve never even told someone I loved them—I mean romantically. Relatives and friends don’t count.” You shook your head slightly as you stumbled over the words. Steve still sat silently, patiently. “You’re the first, Steve. If something happens to you on this mission—no. I don’t even want to think about that. It scares me. Steve, every time you leave, it scares me. But you’re Captain America. I knew what I was signing up for. I can’t ask you to not be who you are, who you will always be, but I also can’t pretend I’m okay with it every time you leave on a quinjet to god knows where.”
Steve didn’t utter a sound, but he let his left hand leave the handlebar and come to rest over yours, his fingers lacing into your tightening grip.
“This isn’t a normal mission. This is dangerous, and this Castillo guy has had it out for you for years. And you’ve never gone away this long before, and certainly not without the ability to call me,” you groaned before continuing, “I get why you can’t contact me, but Steve, a whole month without you, any part of you...” You trailed off.
With a final sigh, you finished, “I know it sounds dumb and cliché and whatever, I don’t give a fuck. You’re going to be gone for a month, maybe longer. Just promise me you won’t do anything brave. Don’t try to be a hero and save the day. Just get your intel and get out.”
You could feel Steve’s chest expand as he took a deep breath, so you fell silent and waited for him to take his turn speaking, squinting your eyes against the glare of headlights from a passing car and doing your best to block out the roar of the city’s sirens, horns, and voices.
“I won’t ever make a promise I know I can’t keep, Y/N,” he began, his voice on the precipice of something more. “I can promise I won’t be especially reckless, but I can’t promise that I won’t be taking risks.”
You granted him the same silent listening he’d given you as he, no doubt, scrunched his face and furrowed his brows, “I know that Castillo is dangerous, I know that. Look at what happened last time. Bad intel, anti-serums, Sam and Bucky having to deal with me.”
“And me!” You broke your silence with a strained laugh, reminding him of the support you’d given him.
“And you, of course,” you could hear the smile in his voice. “Anyway, this mission is top level clearance only. The only people who know about it are the Avengers, you, Pepper, and a select few intel operatives. I’ll be wearing a photostatic veil the whole time and using a voice modifier for all face to face and phone meetings with our moles and contacts. Castillo will never even know I left New York.”
“Besides,” he added, a smirk coloring his voice, “What’s the worst that can happen? I get hit with anti-serum again and have to get a new inhaler until we can break into the Smithsonian?”
You gave his hand a squeeze as if to agree to disagree before speaking, barely biting back a reflexive smile, “Steve, I know I don’t say it much, but,” you swallowed an imaginary lump in your throat, “I love you. I’m gonna miss you so much.” And with that you had to cut yourself off lest your voice break again.
His thumb was idly stroking the tops of your knuckles as you he sat there on his bike a few moments longer, settling into the first comfortable silence you and he had shared since he’d requested the mission several weeks prior.
Douglass chirped as he leapt down from his spot at the top of his cat tree and immediately began weaving between yours and Steve’s legs, giving you your daily balance practice as you tried to avoid stepping on him.
Steve chuckled lightly, reaching down to scratch his fingers through Douglass’ long fur right behind the ears, “Hey buddy, missed you too.”
Despite your still raw feelings, you couldn’t help but smile at that. Seeing the genuine care Steve had for Douglass where previous partners had held only mild tolerance was something that warmed you every time.
Or maybe that was the alcohol still coursing through your veins and warming your cheeks. While the conversation outside had seemed to temporarily sober you, you couldn’t deny that you were more than a little buzzed as the floor kept tilting to the left.
That realization was soon drowned out by a sudden wave of want as you shamelessly stared at Steve’s ass while he was still bent over petting Douglass.
“You know, it’d actually be okay if you got shot with that anti-serum again.” Your voice was just a touch too loud for the small apartment.
Steve’s brows pinched with smiling worry as he stood from his crouch. “Alright, I’ll bite,” Steve groaned with barely hidden amusement, “Why is that?”
“Because when you were small, you were so cute. I mean, really, really cute Steve.” You hoped you were sauntering over to him, but a small remaining shred of sobriety knew you were probably just swaying, “I woulda climbed you like a tree.”
Steve looked unimpressed but there was a laughing glint in his eyes.
You spat out a short laugh, “Well, more like a sapling.”
Steve rolled his eyes good-naturedly, handing you a glass of water, the command to drink it implicit in the action.
“There’s so many things we could do if you were small again,” you continued as you sat at the kitchen table sipping your water while Steve poured out some kibble for a very appreciative Douglass, “Arm wrestle, mud wrestle, regular wrestle, climb stuff, and,” you waggled your eyebrows at him, “sex stuff.”
That was one straw too many for Steve apparently, as he reared back with a self-conscious groan, “God, Y/N, what did Tony put in those shots? What’s gotten into you?” The tips of his ears flamed red, and it spread down his neck to his throat and chest, over which he crossed his arms protectively.
“What?” You laughed with feigned innocence, “I’m just really attracted to you, okay? And it’s your last night here for a while, so I’m letting myself get effusive. Is that so wrong?”
He bit back a smile, “You’d really have slept with me without all this?” He gestured to his muscled body, currently hidden under a soft navy blue cardigan.
“Yes! How many different ways do I have to phrase it?” You looked at him as though it were completely obvious, “I love you for you, Steve, you know that. But damn if I wasn’t hot for you even when you were small. How you never had girlfriends and admirers back in the day, you know before Captain America, is beyond me.” You grinned at his still flushed skin, “You were quite a catch and still are.”
Clearly embarrassed by your open admiration of his pre-serum and current self, he pushed away from the counter he had been leaning on with a huff. “Alright, I think it’s time you and I got to bed, sleep off this night of drinking, yeah?”
“You can’t run from the truth forever,” you laughed out before taking a final gulp of your water, letting Steve pull you to your feet and guide you to the bathroom to get ready for bed.
After another small cup of water, you let yourself fall onto the bed and into the plush covers, quickly finding the sanctuary of Steve’s chest to wrap yourself around.
You inhaled greedily through your nose, trying to memorize the smell of Steve, the feel of his muscled chest beneath your palms, the overwhelming warmth that wrapped around you as tightly as his arms.
You were glad that your effusively good mood was still lingering or else you might have slipped into despair as you and Steve held each other in the dark of your bedroom and Douglass came to claim his regular place amongst his and your tangled ankles.
“Steve?” you whispered, voice barely audible over the roar of your window AC unit.
“Hmm?” He hummed back, reflexively tightening his hold on you.
“I know you’re leaving early, but you’ll wake me before you go, won’t you?”
“Of course,” he reassured, letting his hand stroke the back of your outstretched arm lightly as he pressed his lips to the top of your head. “Now, let’s get some sleep.”
When you awoke, you were alone on the bed. Your heart very nearly began to sink at being alone, but the sound of Steve moving around the kitchen buoyed your spirits for at least a moment longer.
You wanted these last few kisses to be perfect, so you shuffled into the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth. Your head only pounded slightly, thanks in part to all the water Steve had made you drink, but you popped a couple aspirin for good measure.
With a heavy weight in your chest you finally made your way down the short hall to the kitchen, where Steve had made a small stack of French toast and a fruit bowl. You didn’t even want to know how he’d justified buying the expensive raspberries and blueberries.
He looked up from the last few pieces of toast, still cooking in the pan, to give you a too warm smile, the kind that acted as a thin veil over anxiety and pain.
“Good morning, my love,” he cooed softly, sensitive of your probable hangover. “Hope you don’t mind all the dishes, but I just really wanted to make you breakfast before I left.”
You swallowed down any number of complaints at the mention of his leaving to offer him a sarcastic smile, “Gosh, what a burden, having to clean a frypan, bowl, and paring knife after my boyfriend made me breakfast. Red flag, Rogers, red flag.”
He smirked before turning back to the stove, “I see you’re not feeling quite as effusive this morning as you did last night.”
You shrugged your shoulders as you poured two steaming mugs of coffee for you both, “Apparently not. That said,” you blew lightly across your mug, “I stand by everything I told you last night.” You quirked a brow at him when he looked up, “Like a sapling.”
He inhaled sharply, clicking his tongue, turning back to the almost done French toast, a hint of red dusting the skin on the back of his neck.
Despite the spread of sweet French toast, syrup, fruit, and coffee, breakfast was a subdued affair. And even though you were well beyond full, you were fixing to reach for a third slice out of some vain attempt to put off the inevitable when Steve reached over the table and placed his hand over yours.
His eyes flitted the clock on the stove, “I need to leave here pretty soon.”
And with that, the bite you’d been chewing seemed to turn to ash in your mouth, and you swallowed it down with a gulp of coffee, “I know.” You weren’t sure what else to say. You wanted to say I love you. I’m going to think about you every minute of every day till you get back. How am I supposed to sleep without you there beside me? In that empty and cold bed? But you knew that begging him to stay and guilting him further about leaving would be the opposite of helpful, so you sat there still holding his hand trying to commit to memory the way his callouses felt under your fingers.
“Look, I know it’s not easy for you,” his eyes were thoughtful as he spoke, “When Bucky left for the front, and I was stuck in Brooklyn, I felt alone and helpless.”
“So you immediately went and jumped into an untested radiation pod,” you argued, secretly hoping to get just a little of rise out of him.
He pursed his lips to keep from smiling, “Yes, that is true. Do I need to ask Nat to surveil you, keep you away from shady doctors and scientists? Is that what you’re getting at?”
You smiled ruefully.
“The point is,” he continued, “I get it. When Bucky went away, I felt like I had nothing left, and nothing left to lose. Hence, running off with Erskine and the SSR.” He had the decency to look a little sheepish at that. “So, here’s what I propose,” He scooted forward in his seat as he spoke, “When I get back, you and I will go away for a while. Anywhere you want, just you, me, and Douglass for a few weeks. God knows you earned the vacation time and then some.”
It was only a bandaid, but at least it was something. You let your eyes turn wistful as you looked up, “I’ve always wanted to visit New Zealand, see the hobbit village.”
Steve’s eyes lit up with a relieved smile, “And I hear they have the best lamb chops in the world.”
You almost laughed, were it not for the twisting sensation in your stomach, “Who could ask for more?”
Seeing Steve off might have felt much like any other day had there not been a cloud over your head, were you not staring down a month or more without him, were it not for that unsettling, gnawing feeling in your gut that something about this mission was off.
Steve had taken a few moments to brush his fingers through Douglass’ long mane, giving him a few last pats and kisses. Then he’d scooped you into his arms, burying his face in the crook of your neck, holding you for an comfortably uncomfortable long time.
And when he kissed you, there was a barely subdued edge of raw emotion, his breath just a touch too laborious, his fingers gripping your sides a bit firmer than normal.
And when he pulled back, there was a mistiness in his eyes that he quickly blinked away, “I’ll be careful. I promise.”
“You better.” Your voice shook, but you smiled at him as best as you could.
“I love you, Y/N,” his eyes locked with yours.
“Do I have to say it?” You joked.
Steve rolled his eyes and grinned back, “You’re ridiculous.”
“I love you, Steve.”
Steve’s smile fell, his face becoming softly somber as his eyes raked over your face, no doubt committing you to memory as you’d done with him.
The sudden and unsettling sound of his phone buzzing in his pocket signaled the end of your goodbyes as he silenced it with an impatient huff.
He opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it, “I know, Steve. Go.”
“I love you so much,” he said as he wrapped his arms around you once more.
“I love you too, dummy, now go before Tony finally ruptures that aneurysm he’s been working on.”
With a grin and a final kiss, Steve was out the hall, and you shut the door with a soft click.
You stood there, your back leaning against the door for an indeterminate time. The only sound in your apartment was the soft stroking sound of Douglass grooming himself, interrupted by the occasional tinkle of his collar and tags.
One month.
You shuffled quietly past the kitchen where the few dirty dishes sat in the sink, and walked back to your bedroom.
One month.
You sank down under the covers and reached over, taking Steve’s pillow in your arms and burying your face into, inhaling deeply.
One month.
But when do things ever go to plan?