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writingthingsisdifficult · 1 year ago

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It's been a long, long time

Steve Rogers x reader

Being on a mission, even with Captain America and Bucky Barnes, is a dangerous thing. One could become injured, and maybe even need someone to take care of oneself…

A/N: trying to get into writing again – it’s been a while (you might even say it’s been a long, long time XD ). Contains violence, swearing, bodily harm. Also pining and awkwardness. And a dose of idiots to lovers.

Obligatory English is not my first language.

Word count: 8893

***

The evening is freezing cold. There is promise of snow in the air, but none of us have the time to appreciate it. We have a job to do. Villains to stop, a world to save. You know, the usual. It should be a quick in and out again. Cap and Bucky are taking the helm on this, and I’m bringing up the rear today.

The only thing heard in the cargo bay as we ready ourselves, check the gear one last time before they let us go, is the noise from the quinjet. Then almost total silence as the pilot switches into stealth mode. A buckle snaps into place, soft steps on the hard floor, a cough. It’s the quiet before the storm.

“You ready?”

“Lead the way, Cap,” I reply with a grin. If he only knew I would follow him through fire and back.

“Buck?”

“Let’s go.”

The air rushes in as the hatch lowers, and we walk side by side towards the opening. The plan is to jump out once the plane is low enough and enter the base on the north side, then quietly and quickly take out the enemy before we wipe the system in the control room. I do believe there’s a possibility of fire too.

I glance up at Steve. He’s standing still, his face focused and serious, no doubt going over the plan in his head again. To think I would have the privilege of working with him, and Bucky, like this… I feel like I’ve proven myself to… well, myself. And I never really thought that he would be standing here, so close to me. There’s so much I want to say, to tell him, but words can wait until another day. Right now we have a task to do.

I stare into the darkness, watching the tiny lights in the distance grow larger and larger. Good thing I’ve never been afraid of heights.

Steve jumps first, then Bucky, and soon I follow suit. It’s a short, but exhilarating trip through the air before I hit the ground, tucking my body to do a front flip, and landing on my feet. Then I carefully fold the small parachute and stuff it back into the pouch, sending a quiet thanks to Stark and his nanotech.

Before I allow myself to be proud of my landing, I take a moment to make sure both Steve and Bucky are ok. They look like they’re just out for an evening stroll. Steve adjusts his shield and gestures silently towards the base. A wordless ‘let’s go’, waiting for confirmation from us. Bucky rolls his shoulders, I nod. The snow on the ground muffles the sound of our steps as we slip undetected into the base.

Peeking around the corner of the nearest building, a shed or storage of some sort, Steve holds up three fingers, then points to the left. Guards. Not unexpected. We all know what to do. Bucky pulls himself up onto the roof. I can’t see him in the dark, but I know he’s positioning himself for an attack.

“Think you can get them to come a bit closer?” Steve whispers, so close to my ear that I can feel the warmth of his breath. A slight tremble ripples over my body, and the hair on the nape of my neck rises. Jeez! That man is going to be the death of me.

“Of course,” I reply confidently, trying hard to not give away that I was two seconds from sinking to my knees in front of him. Holding my head high, I saunter into the lamplight. “Hey, boys. What’s a girl gotta do to have some fun around here?”

Three heads snap up, and after a moment of confusion, they charge, momentarily forgetting the guns in their hands. I whip out my batons and power up the charge, but before I can do anything, Bucky lands on top of the biggest guy. I can hear the snap of the guard’s leg breaking from here; it sends chills down my spine. He groans and mutters something inaudible, but before he can finish his sentence, Bucky’s fist connects with his nose.

Steve whips around the corner, taking the other guards by surprise – at least if we go by the yelling and cursing. And so it begins. I have to keep myself from laughing with the adrenaline and thrill. I almost feel lightheaded as my energy rushes through me. The middle of my baton strikes the soldier’s shin, sending him to the ground. I leap on him, shoving my knee squarely in his chest, knocking the air from his lungs. Then I bring a baton round, activating the switch to send a jolt of electricity through his neck. He collapses down into the snow and twitches for a few seconds.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Steve land a solid blow to the jaw of one of the guards, making him drop like a sack of potatoes. I grant myself a small smile. He returns it when he sees me.

The base isn’t fully manned, but there are still enough soldiers to make me break out a sweat. They’re not very disciplined, though, throwing punches this way and that. Finally a bullet whizzes past, hitting the wall behind us with a bang, but before the shooter can even think about pulling the trigger again, Steve’s shield hits both him and the gun. A previously unseen soldier makes his way to pick it up, but Bucky beats him to it, and knocks him down before throwing the shield back to Steve. The way his shoulders roll with the catch sends a shiver down my spine and heat to my ears. I can only imagine how that would look without the suit.

“Get a grip! You’re working!” I mutter to myself, shaking my head to clear my mind. But that moment of distraction rewards me a hard blow to the jaw. I stumble backwards and flex it. Nothing’s broken, but it’s gonna leave me with one hell of a bruise.

The idiot thinks he got the upper hand and stalks toward me brandishing a knife. I wink at him and swing around to kick him in the chest. He staggers, and with a swift movement I am on his shoulders, my thighs firmly pressing on his throat. A garbled laugh slips from his lips, and then finally his knife clatters to the ground. The gurgling stops, and he topples over. I roll off him, get to my feet and dust myself off, satisfied with my work.

The fight has died down, the ground is littered with dead or dying men. We take a moment to get control over the situation, to make sure there’s no one lying in wait for us. The area is clear. All soldiers and officers are accounted for.

“Nice save,” Bucky smirks. “I was wondering if you needed help.”

Steve smiles warmly. “She doesn’t. Never have.”

The heat in my ears spreads over my cheeks. Thank my lucky stars that I’m already flushed from the fight. It would be so typical to be betrayed by my rushing blood now, after denying myself the truth for so long. I swallow the giggle in my chest, but I can’t stop the stupid grin. “It’s a team effort,” I huff slightly out of breath, ignoring the embarrassment. “Wouldn’t have survived without you two here. You good?”

Nodding, Bucky pats my shoulder. “Yep. Going to have a few bruises in the morning, but nothing I can’t handle. You?”

“Mhm.” I grin. “We made a good team out there.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, wiping blood from his split lip. “We do make a good team.” He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times to continue, but apparently changes his mind. Instead, he looks to Bucky, and then back at me. His eyes widen, dropping the snow he used to wipe his hands clean. “Oh, Jesus! Your face! You’re bleeding!”

Wiping my brow, I wave him off. “It’s nothing. The other guy is worse off. Uh, what’s next?” I ask, shifting the conversation to something else, even though I know the plan inside and out. Now that the fight is over, exhaustion rolls over me. I had almost forgotten the toll a mission like this takes.

“Easiest part left,” Bucky replies, pushing his hair from his face. “Disable the system, and then we get to play with flames.” He grins like a kid that’s been let loose in a candy store.

“Piece of cake, that. Let’s go so I can get home at take a nice, hot shower. Get all this gunk off of me.” I smack my lips and wipe a lump of something thick and gloopy from my neck. “Ew!”

“According to the map provided by SHIELD, the control room is located right next to the main gate. Follow me. I’d like to get home and take a shower too.” Steve takes off with light steps.

They’re a bit faster than me; I can’t really get my feet to follow. Not that that’s anything unusual. I haven’t got the stamina that the serum gives, so I always follow at my own pace.

Breathing hard and with adrenaline fading, I lean on the wall for a bit. I just need a small break. Unlike Cap, I can’t do this all day. At least not without a little pause to catch my breath. My uneven breath.

Something feels off. There’s static in my earpiece and a weird rumbling in my mind. I shake to clear my head, but it only makes me dizzy.

When I push off the wall, I wince. The right side of my torso feels warm, too warm, and it aches; that dull ache that leaves an ominous echo in my mind. Looking down, I realise my jacket is torn, and when I touch the fabric, my fingers come away dark and sticky. Fuck!

Glancing up, I see Cap and Bucky pushing on, already almost out of sight, fully focused on the mission. No need to distract them. I’ll deal. We’ll meet at the rendezvous point later.

The zipper sounds harsh in my ears, ripping through the air like a chainsaw, revealing the extent of my predicament. There’s a deep gash running from my bellybutton to my ribs on the right hand side. Double-fuck!

Cold air caresses the wound, snowflakes dance in the dim light. It burns. I have to blink to keep my focus as nausea creeps up, making me even dizzier. My tongue feels thick and fuzzy. No way I’m walking away from this. Rubbing my eyes, I get a final glimpse of Steve rounding the corner and then he’s out of sight. I’m hit with a sudden pang of regret: I never got to tell him… anything.

Time seems to slow down. I suck in air to steel myself, but it stops at the top of my chest. My breath is ragged and shallow. Blood drips from my lips, and I wipe my mouth with heavy movements.

Everything is so cold. My body weighs so much, making my knees buckle and give out. It’s a strange sensation; feeling both heavy and so light at the same time. Stumbling forward, I suddenly lose my balance. Luckily I manage to catch myself with my hands so I don’t faceplant on the ground. The snow cushions my fall a bit, but the impact still sends a shock through my body, and by the feel of it, my palms are as good as shredded. It doesn’t take long before my clothes are soaked, and soon my bones are frozen through.

When I open my eyes, the bright white has turned a dark, rich crimson. I feel sick. I always knew there were risks being involved in my line of work, but this isn’t how I imagined I’d go.

Every breath is laboured, every movement slow. My lungs convulse and drops of blood and spit flies everywhere. Some hit my cheek, and I recoil from the slap.

I try to push myself up again, but it’s no more than a feeble attempt, resulting in a silent groan and even deeper scrapes on my hands.

Thirty seconds pass at most, but it feels like an eternity. As I sit on my knees and hands, quiet stinging from the cold and the cuts on my knuckles mixes with the throbbing in my side. If only I could have one wish it would be to say goodbye.

There’s a whooshing of something in my ears, my vision is fading. A nothingness seeps in, cinching it to pinpricks in front of me. To my left I vaguely register movement, but I’m too far gone to really notice. I just want the pain to stop.

My vision goes completely, and shortly after so does my hearing, Gravity takes over, and my head hits the snow with a heavy thud.

There’s a commotion nearby. Or at least I think there is. I’m slipping in and out of consciousness as I’m bleeding out. It’s hard to get at firm grip on anything at all.

There is no light. No sounds. I’m wrapped in a cocoon, like I’m swaddled tightly in a warm blanket. Time is syrup. Everything is so hazy. I’m not sure where I am, or even who I am. Or if I am at all. Just let me drift off to sleep.

I’m jolted and shaken, and the amount of noise around me weighs me down; beeping and muffled rumbling and sounds I can’t place. People whispering. There’s a bird singing somewhere… I think. My ears are buzzing. I try to open my eyes, but the light is so bright it hurts. A soft whimper escapes me, but I can’t speak. The voices get louder, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. It doesn’t take long before darkness consumes me.

A flare of blazing, white light flashes in front of my eyes. My back arches as a sharp pain shoot through my body. The savage scream that erupts from my mouth lingers in my throat, scratching and itching, biting at my consciousness, but the waves I’m riding pull me under again, and I don’t have enough strength to fight them.

Somewhere above my head I hear a frantic “No, no, no…” followed by a quieter “Fix it. Please.” There’s pressure on my shoulders. It’s warm. Pleasant. My head rolls to the side, and it’s dark again.

Someone’s calling my name. The voice is far away, but through the cotton in my ears the urgency is clear. I cannot answer. I don’t know where it’s coming from.

My eyes are crusty when I try to open them. I blink, and blink again. The light is harsh and it does nothing good for the growing headache that throbs in my temples. The room is unfamiliar with its light green walls and – I squint – colourful, abstract paintings. The air smells sharp, a little bitter, but clean. It stings in my nose.

There is… an attempt to sit up, but I’m pinned down by wires and tubes and my own lack of strength. The failed attempt tugs on the needle in my hand. Jesus that hurts! “Fuck!” The word comes out as a coarse croak, setting off a coughing firework befitting an old man.

“Hey, hey, hey… relax.” Light touch on my forehead, and then Steve’s face comes into focus. He looks tired, drawn. But he’s smiling, so I try my best to smile too. My lip cracks. “You scared us. It looked pretty sketchy for a moment.” When he moves closer, he reveals another person standing behind his back. I have to strain my eyes to focus, but after a second I see Bucky, looking so worried I’m tempted to get up to comfort him.

I begin to speak, but that only starts another coughing fit.

“Don’t. You’ve been… out for a long time. Here.” Steve pours a glass of lukewarm water and holds it to my lips.

I drink greedily; I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything so delicious. And it washes away the rawness in my throat. “Thank you.” It’s a mere whisper, but at least I can communicate.

Bucky moves to my other side. “You look like shit!” He laughs at my glare. “Really, though, it’s good to have you back, doll. If not, Steve might’ve gone on a rampage…” He chuckles, ducking to avoid Steve’s swat, and picks up the red button. “Let’s call the nurse, hm? Let them know you’re not dead?”

The nurse shoos them out of the room, but she has to use stern words before they reluctantly leave with promises that they’ll be back.

Feeling my forehead, she gives me a quick smile. “Right, honey. Let’s make sure you’re okay, alright?” She’s a kind woman with light hands, making the testing and prodding and questions almost bearable. She has to take my blood, she says, nodding towards my hands resting on top of the blanket. I lift my left arm, and she fastens a rubber band around it. The smell of the alcohol wipe sticks to my nose like a horse fly. The wet is cold, and when the needle punctures my skin, it’s almost as if I can hear a crisp pop.

I’m used to needles, have no problems with blood work, but when it’s time to change the bandage on my stomach, I squirm in my bed. It hurts, and now that I’m awake, I really just want to fix it myself.

“Listen,” she starts, using the same stern voice she did on the boys, “I apologise for being harsh, but you died! You’ve been cut open several times, your intestines had to be shoved back in and rearranged, your body is battered and bruised, and I’m amazed you didn’t have any broken bones. By all logic your skull should be cracked. You’re lucky all you got from the resuscitation were a few fractured ribs. We had to keep you in an induced coma for a week just to let your body rest.”

Coma? What? I look from her to the window, a deep furrow between my eyes.

She laughs, and continue dressing my wound. “It’s okay to be a bit dazed. You’ve been beat up pretty bad. But you’re gonna be as good as new when we’re done with you.”

The next few days goes by at a snail’s pace. Sure, I’ve got plenty of visitors. Nat and Clint, Wanda, even Director Fury swings by one time. Bucky is here most days. So is Steve. He doesn’t leave my side unless he’s told to by the staff. I’m eternally grateful that I don’t have to be alone all the time.

My room is filled with flowers and balloons and get well cards. But I hate being this helpless. Everything hurts; moving, breathing, sleeping… The nurses are doing their job, and it’s a fine job, but I want to go home. I want to sleep in a soft bed with warm covers, with a pair of pyjamas that leaves a bit more to the imagination than the flimsy gown they’ve dressed me in. I miss my TV, my music… I miss the freedom to do as I please. And I’m not afraid to tell the nurses exactly that.

“We’ll see,” is the only answer I get.

So my days are filled with physical therapy that leaves me sweaty and annoyed – damn, I hate that walker – chatting with whoever is there when I’m feeling up for it, and dozing when I get too tired. Night and day all kinda blend together. It’s difficult to keep track of time.

Whispers draws me out of my slumber.

“You’ve gotta tell her, Steve.”

“I know. But I can’t spring it on her like this. Let her recover first.”

“Fine. But tell her! Or I will!”

“Okay, okay! Shh… you’re waking her!”

I half wonder what that was all about, but I drift off before I can think to ask, and when I wake up again I can’t really tell dreams from reality, so I say nothing.

It’s been a week and a half since I woke up in the hospital bed, and I’m about to start climbing the walls. When Doctor Lloyd comes by on her daily visit I moan about staying again.

“About that,” she says with a bright smile, giving me hope. “I was thinking it’s about time you get some fresh air.”

“Yes!” I mutter under my breath. Finally! A grin creeps over my lips, and I’m half a second from swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.

“However –“ She interrupts, stopping me with a look. Her face is serious, but kind. “You can’t be on your own. Not yet.” Her voice full of sympathy. “If I am to discharge you from our care, you need someone who can look after you at home.”

My face and heart falls. “But –“

“Listen. I’m going to be honest with you. You have been through four surgeries, and you have a very long, very tough road of recovery ahead of you. If you’re good, and follow my advice, you’re looking at at least twelve weeks before your body is back to relatively normal. And you need minimum two more weeks without any physical exertion at all. No housework, no lifting, no stretching. You will need help. With everything. Do you have anyone you can call?”

I grimace, fighting the sudden pressure behind my eyes. My head is filled with I don’t want to, I don’t want to, I don’t want to! Of course. I live alone, and she knows it. But I can’t stand the thought of staying in the hospital for a moment longer. I discreetly rub a finger to the corner of my eye, concealing it as removing some gunk, but I know that if I’m not careful, everyone in this room will watch me ugly cry.

There’s beeping in her pocket. She fishes out a small device, nods and walks to the door. “When I return, I’m going to need an answer.”

“Fuck!” I groan loudly when the door clicks behind her.

“What’s wrong?” Steve and Bucky quickly get to their feet.

I glance over at them, blinking away the remaining tears before they can see. They retreated to the far corner to give me some privacy while the doctor talked. “I’m stuck here for the next… god knows how long.”

They cross the room. Steve frowns. “But I thought you were supposed to go home soon.”

“Yeah, so did I. Or… I hoped,” I reply with a sigh. “But they won’t release me unless I have someone who can take care of me while I recover.” I think for a bit, shoulders slumping forward. “My sister lives on the other side of the world, and she’s too busy with work and the kids. Besides, she’s already taking care of Mum. She can’t be on her own with the dementia and all. So she can’t just drop everything and fly out.” Not that I particularly want her to. We’re not that close. It would just be awkward.

“Oh.”

Bucky stares pointedly at Steve, nodding almost imperceptibly towards me, like he’s finishing an argument they’ve had before.

Steve clears his throat stiffly. “How about, uh, how about you come live with me while you recover?”

My stomach flips, and I’m pretty sure it’s not because of the injury. Looking away, I swallow hard. “I don’t want to burden you with that responsibility.”

“You could never be a burden.”

“But it’s twelve weeks. And I’m gonna be useless for at least two of them.” I’m not gonna lie. Staying with Steve sounds like an absolute dream right now. But chances are it would eat me up to be that close to him for so long.

“Don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it. Bucky and I were… discussing it earlier, since we figured you were going to need someone close by –“ He pauses. Rubs the back of his neck. “My apartment is big enough. Please, will you let me help you?”

Bucky smirks. “Yeah, please let him help you. Or else he might just go mad from the guilt.”

Guilt? Confused, I’m about to ask, but then I see Steve’s face, scrunched up like a puppy, mirroring Bucky’s, making me laugh. I shrink from the pain that follows. “Fine. You can help. Just don’t make me laugh.” I make a point of looking inconvenienced, but secretly, gratitude washes over me. If it has to be anyone, I’m glad it’s Steve.

“Good. That’s settled. Thank you.” Steve steps out of the room to make some arrangements, leaving me pondering the guilt comment.

“Bucky?” I shift a bit in the bed to look him in the eyes.

“Yes?”

“What did you mean that he feels guilty?”

He looks down for a moment, a grimace flits across his features. “Well, to tell you the truth, we both feel guilty. We just left you, didn’t even check if you were okay –“ He grips the metal railing on the bed, and I can see his face tighten.

“You asked,” I reply, patting his hand. “And I said I were. No reason for you to think otherwise.” They should absolutely not feel guilty. And the way I’m floating with relief and joy from getting out, there is no way I’m letting them feel bad!

“Yeah, but we should have been with you. You died! You should’ve seen h…” He stops himself. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re here, and you’re gonna be okay, and Steve is happy to take care of you.”

There it is again, a small flash of something. But what? Steve would be happy to… My chest tightens, it feels like I’m going to implode. Just as I’m about ask Bucky what that means, Steve comes back.

“Sorry about that,” he smiles, sliding his phone back in his pocket. “Had to make a few phone calls. Suppose you need some things from your own apartment. Natasha said she’d be more than happy to go over and pack a suitcase for you. And Fury needed to know where to find you should something happen.”

I look at him, bask in his happy smile. Oh yeah, I’m definitely gonna struggle for the next weeks. “You sure it’s okay?” I have to ask, have to know that it’s not just because I was upset or because of guilt.

Bucky and Steve react in unison. Arched eyebrows, annoyed smiles, and exhaling through their noses. “Yes.” And that’s the end of the discussion. Don’t think I’d be able to argue more even if I wanted to.

Three hours later I’m wheeled out of the front door and over to a waiting car. Bucky tosses a bag with the few possessions I had while admitted into the boot while Steve helps me into the back seat, making sure I’m comfortable before climbing in on the other side.

Bucky gives us a mock salute, then winks at me. “I’ll see ya later. And please wait a week before you kill him, won’t you?” He shuts the door, and heads over to his motorbike.

“Let’s go,” Steve laughs, shaking his head and gesturing to the driver. “Let’s go home.”

Steve insists on carrying me from the car, and though I protest, I can’t deny that I’m enjoying it quite a bit more than I should.

He sets me down on the kitchen counter and begins looking through the cupboards. “You hungry? Bet you want something other than hospital food. I haven’t been able to go shopping for a while, but there should be enough to fill you up for now. I’ll call in a few favours, so you don’t have to be alone, okay?”

I start swaying. My muscles aren’t strong enough to sit upright without support yet, but it’s fascinating to watch Steve being so natural in a domestic situation that I don’t say anything, just bite down the struggle. Until I almost wobble off the counter, and knock a small knife to the floor.

“Oh shit! I didn’t think… you shouldn’t be sitting without a back rest. You’re probably exhausted too.” It isn’t a question at all.

I wave him off. “Don’t worry about it. But I am tired. Maybe I should just take a teensy nap or something.” The sofa is looking very tempting right now.

“Of course. You sleep. I’ll make us something to eat and come wake you after it’s done.”

“You sure? I mean, I could help with –“

“No. No, you’re not helping me with anything,” he interrupts, dropping the bread so he can pick me up.

I feel like I don’t weigh a thing, floating through the air, securely enveloped by strong arms. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to feeling his arms around me, and I tuck it away in my mind to remember a rainy day. I almost forget to protest when he passes the sofa, but he just laughs. The rumble from his chest vibrates through me, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stay appropriate.

He nudges the door to the bedroom open with his foot and walks sideways through. When he lets go of me, I sink into the mattress. It feels like a cloud after the hospital bed. Steve glances around the room. “Sorry about the mess. I didn’t have the time to do anything special in here. Just let me put away the clothes –“ He quickly scrunches up a couple of t-shirts and shoves them into a hamper in the corner.

“What, is this… Is this your room? But… where are you gonna – don’t tell me you’re gonna sleep on the sofa! Nope!” It’s out of the question to kick him out of his own bed, and I wriggle to get out of it again.

“Relax.” He looks at me and smiles sheepishly, lifting my leg up again and tucking the blanket tightly around me. “That isn’t my bed. Well, technically it is, but that’s besides the point. It’s not the one I sleep on. Never really gotten used to a normal, civilian mattress, so I usually sleep on a field cot… And I was thinking… So I can be close by in case you need anything, I’ll just sleep on that.” He points to the floor on the other side of the bed. Tucked into the other corner is a mattress, neatly done with folded sheets and everything.

I raise an eyebrow and tilt my head a little bit. “This is awfully well planned out, Captain, considering we made this deal just today. I didn’t even know I would be released until this morning…” I try to sound tough and serious, but I can’t quite hide the twinkle in my voice. Trust Steve to have a plan. Even for this.

He actually blushes, and looks away as he answers. “Uh, well, you see… Bucky – and I – thought it might come to something like this, so I got it a couple of days ago. Besides, I’ve been meaning to get a proper bed for ages. And now I had a good reason.”

“You’re a couple of sneaks, the both of you,” I grin. My chest leaps with the thought of him going through all that hassle just in case I needed a place to stay. “But thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says gruffly. He clicks off the light and glances over his shoulder. “I’ll leave it ajar so I hear you if you need anything.”

I haven’t slept this well in… forever, I think. The bed is perfect, and there’s just something about the room; the light coming from under the door, the scent, whatever it is, that makes me feel safe.

Steve wakes me a little while later, a tray in hand. “Figured you wanted to be comfortable while eating. And when you’re done, you can sleep a bit more. It’ll be good for you.”

It’s dark when I wake up again. My head hurts, and my mouth is bone dry. A glass of water. That’s what I need. The kitchen isn’t that far, so I roll over on my side and slide my feet to the floor. But I can’t seem to get my abs to follow instructions. Instead I sorta hang over the edge like a slug, unable to get up or down. “Shit, shit, shit,” I mutter, wriggling to get into a better position. But the more I try, the more I twist, and the strain stabs and stings my side.

“What’s going on?” Steve’s voice is groggy with sleep. He sits up so I can see his head over the edge of the bed. Even upside down it looks confused.

“I just wanted to get a glass of water.”

“And you decided that you’d do that yourself. On the first night out of hospital, despite the doctor’s orders to not do anything physical at all?”

I give him my best puppy eyes. “Yes?”

“What am I going to do with you?” he sighs, helping me back under the covers. After propping me up with pillows and checking on my side to make sure nothing is ripped, he fetches a glass of water. When he comes back, he gives me an exasperated smirk. “Next time, just wake me, okay?”

My stomach drops when I see how tired he looks. “I’m sorry,” I start, feeling like this whole situation could have been avoided if only I had paid more attention.

He cuts me off. “Don’t. You don’t have anything to apologise for.”

“Sor–“

He shuts me up with a finger on my lips and a soft shh. “Go back to sleep. You need the rest.”

***

“I think I’ll manage from here,” I say when I’m safely down on the little chair in front of the sink. We decided on using the office chair, since that can spin, and it has wheels, so it’s easier for me to access what I need around the bathroom. Steve has already brought me washcloths, towels and soap, and I’ll spare him the horror of giving me a sponge bath, since I’m not ready for a shower just yet.

“If you’re sure,” he replies. “I’ll be right here if you need me,” he adds when he closes the door.

Washing away the hospital smell that sticks to my face feels amazing. The water is warm, and the cloth is soft. I sigh with contentment as I let it linger over my eyes.

I pat my face dry and move on to get out of the sweater I’m wearing. Ow! Each time I try to lift my arms and pull it over my head, my stitches sting. After three attempts and lots of quiet swearing, I’m stuck. “Um, Steve?” I call, trying to sound calm, but the burn in my side is concerning. “A little help, please?”

From my limited vision through the fabric I see his head in the mirror, poking through the door, looking increasingly worried, but with a crooked smile on his lips. “Jeez. How did you do that. Here.” He averts his eyes like the perfect gentleman he is when he frees me from my sweater, but he tuts at my stupidity and refusal to do as the doctor instructed.

I hesitate for a second. “Um... think you can help me unhook my bra too?”

With minimal fumbling, he does as I ask, and before I can say anything else, he wrings a wet cloth and starts washing my back for me. I can’t do anything but close my eyes and breathe as he quietly fusses over my cuts and bruises, before leaving alone to finish cleaning myself. When he returns ten minutes later, I’ve turned into a towel burrito.

“I figured you needed something to wear, and the clothes Natasha packed didn’t look very comfortable.” He looks down on his hands and then back at me; he’s holding an oversized zipper hoodie and sweatpants.

“Thanks. Those will do.” The fabric is soft, like feathers against my skin. “I’ll be right out.”

“Good,” he replies and leaves me alone again.

A couple of minutes and a good deal of fumbling later, I’ve managed to get into the sweater. Sure, it took time, and sure it was a bit painful, but over all I’m happy with my effort. But it’s another situation altogether with the sweatpants. I just can’t lift my feet high enough to step into them while holding them, and when I drop them to the floor, I can step into them, but I can’t bend down to pull them up. Shit.

Wrapping the towel around my waist, I call for Steve again. “Help?” I squeak, gesturing to the grey bundle on the floor, ignoring the rising heat on my neck. I hadn’t thought of this; that I actually need help getting dressed. For some reason I’m not that embarrassed, really, more disappointed that I have to be that kind of a burden. If we’re going to make this work, I can’t let my pride get in the way.

“Oh.” He watches me intently from the doorway.

“Yeah.” I give him a flat smile. “I think I can get out of my clothes on my own. At least mostly,” I add when I notice the arched eyebrow and crooked smile on his face. “The zipper hoodie works, so that’s good. But… this movement,” I mime pulling up the sweatpants, “hurts. I can’t bend properly, so…”

“It’s what I’m here for,” he says, before quickly adding “to help.” He kneels in front of me and guides first one, then the other foot into the sweatpants, while I hang onto his shoulders for dear life, and he looks away while pulling them up. Only when they’re safely tied and hanging, do I drop the towel.

I want to thank him, but no sounds come when I open my mouth. So I settle on a smile and a nod, though that is wildly insufficient.

“Sit,” he orders, but his voice is mild, and once I’m down again, he turns the chair around so my back is towards the sink.

You would think that Steve has done all this before. He knows precisely what he needs to do, and he’s the gentlest being on the earth in this moment, tenderly lowering my head into the sink and making sure I’m comfortable and that the chair doesn’t roll away, all while silently asking me if it’s okay.

“Mhm.” I close my eyes, savouring the sensation of warm, running water over my scalp. Then he begins to massage, and I melt into the chair. An obscene noise rises in my throat, but I swallow thickly, settling for a quiet hum instead. I can get used to this.

The last of the hospital sweat swirls down the drain, replaced by the clean smell of shampoo. That it’s Steve doing it is just icing on the cake. Now, if just that stupid sting in my side could disappear too, my life would be perfect.

With my hair wrapped in a new towel, he picks me up and carries me to the living room. I’m pretty sure I could walk if I wanted, but what’s life without a little exploitation of the situation?

It quickly becomes a routine, him helping me with the things I can’t do, carrying me from room to room. Picking stuff up from the floor when I drop it, making food when I’m hungry… And my heart swells for every kind gesture. I feel like I’m about to explode.

My strength and pain fluctuate over the weeks. Some days I’m ready to take on the world, and Steve has to remind me that I still have a long way to go, others I can hardly get out of bed, but my recovery is definitely moving forward. Before long I can even sit up without support for more than a couple of minutes at a time.

***

The tape tugs on my skin, and I’m glad I only have to change the bandage every other day. I hiss as I pull on it, but I just can’t get myself to rip it off quickly today. Taking a deep breath, I change my grip and try again, but no luck.

“You decent?” Steve’s voice floats through the door, and moments later, his head pops in.

“Yeah,” I answer, not even looking up to see that he’s already in the room.

He gently pushes my hands out of the way. “Let me,” he says, soothing over the red skin where I’ve already managed to remove the tape. His eyes lock with mine, and he gives me a quick smile. “I’ll count to three, then pull, okay?”

I nod and breathe in, then out again.

“One, two –“ He pulls.

I let out a loud yelp. “Oh, you fucker!”

“There you go. Good girl.”

My mind blanks. Did he really…? I hold my breath for a few seconds in fear of making some sound I’ll regret later. Through my haze I barely recognise that the new bandage is already on, and he’s pulling down my sweater. Just before he lets go, his fingers lightly brush over my skin, making my heart flutter like a hummingbird. I’m gonna need a month to recover after this.

He moves to pick me up again, but I want to do it myself. No, I need to do it myself. “I can walk.” I think. My legs suddenly feel so very weak, and when I try to get up, I just can’t.

Instead of commenting, he offers his arm, and practically pulls me to my feet while supporting my back. He’s right there when I take the first, unsteady steps on my own since the fight. I both miss the walker I had in the hospital and don’t, but I know that if I need to, I can always grab onto Steve. Or in the worst case, he’ll lift me up and carry me into the living room.

“So. What do you want to do today?” he asks as we slowly make our way towards the sofa.

“I don’t know. Not much I can do.” I’m not used to sitting still. “How about we just watch TV for now – well, I can watch, if you have other things you want to do.” Please stay with me.

“No, that sounds good.” He brings out a small notebook and a pen. “I have a lot of catching up to do. What do you wanna watch?”

Later that evening, Bucky comes traipsing in with his hands so full of bags that they’re stacked all the way to his elbows. “Food delivery,” he announces loudly, dropping the bags on the floor for Steve to put away. “How’s my favourite patient?” he grins, turning to me.

“Can’t complain. Steve’s being an angel nurse.”

“Good, good.” He’s already on his way out again. “I slipped in a chocolate for you in case you can’t take it anymore,” he adds, pointing to Steve with an exaggerated grimace.

“Thanks. You’re not staying?”

“Nah. Got a mission coming up. And Steve, remember: I’m not your personal DoorDasher.”

Steve laughs and follows him to the door. They remain standing, talking for a bit – whispering so I can’t hear them, but there’s an urgency to underneath their voices. I wonder if Steve was supposed to go on this mission too. A pang of guilt punches me in the gut. Bucky better come back in one piece.

“Be safe,” I say, swallowing hard.

“Don’t worry about me,” he replies and closes the door behind him. Steve busies himself with the groceries.

“What kind of mission?” I ask when he finally sits down again.

“Huh?”

I frown. “Bucky. What was the mission?”

“Oh, didn’t ask. Sorry.”

Despite being so curious that I’m about to burst, I don’t ask again. I’m not privy to all communication between SHIELD and their agents.

***

Steve is gone. He’s been gone for a couple of hours. Think he had to run to the store or something, but I couldn’t go with him. Which is okay, I guess. So I’m lying on the sofa, tapping my fingers, trying to count to 500 backwards. It’s something to do, to keep the boredom at bay. Every day feels like the days I stayed with my grandparents when I was little. You know; constantly a little bored, because you don’t have access to all your toys? But also excited, because you’re on holiday and it’s kinda new and regular routines don’t apply? Quiet days passing slowly, but pleasantly. There’s a kind sort of nostalgia to the whole thing.

Here I don’t have my books or stuff, and though I can always go get some, it’s not the same, because there’s nothing like that feeling of just browsing, picking up the one that piques your interest at that moment… I do have my music, though. It’s on my phone, and that is wonderful. But I miss my record player, and listening to digital music through headphones doesn’t quite give the same experience. On the other hand: I get to spend every day with Steve, and now that I don’t fall asleep from exhaustion every hour, I can actually enjoy it.

When Steve comes back, carrying bags and looking so deliciously domestic that I can’t do anything but sink into the sofa to hide my reaction, I breathe a sigh of relief. Weirdly enough, being alone has started to make me uneasy.

“Welcome home,” I splutter, trying to conceal the sound as a yawn. Outside the sun is setting, sending long, peachy rays that spreads over the walls. If I’m lucky, the colour in my face can be explained away. Not sure he’s fooled.

He gives me a wide smile and brings me a bottle of soda. “Thanks. What do you say we order dinner today? I couldn’t decide what I wanted when I was at the shop, so I just picked something. And now I don’t really feel like making lasagna at all.”

“I’m always up for takeaway. Did you have anything in mind?”

“How about…” he thinks for a bit. “Thai? Form that restaurant down by the square?”

“Absolutely!” He asked me one of the first days what my favourite food was, and I just said the first thing that popped into my head, being too preoccupied with the sight of his shirt straining over his shoulders, but it’s sweet of him to remember. And I do really like Thai food, so it’s a win-win.

Two hours later we’re both full, content, and comfortably seated in the sofa. We’ve made it a habit for me to lie with my head in his lap. That way I can rest, and I don’t have to twist or move in case I get tired. If this is the only good thing that comes from this situation, I will be happy.

He absentmindedly strokes my hair, watching the clouds floating by outside the window. “You wanna watch a movie today?”

“Sure.” I’d go to the end of the world with him if he asked me. I’m not ashamed to admit it. “What do you want to watch?”

“So, I’ve been meaning to… You know I’ve got my list – gotta try to update myself – ”

“Get with the times,” I offer with a smirk, looking up into his face.

“So to speak. There’s a lot of things I missed, you know, when… anyways, I thought maybe we could watch Fellowship of the Ring? I’ve heard a lot of good things about it, and it’s been on my list for a while, ‘cause I really liked the books.”

“I’d love to. It’s one of my favourites.” The prospect of watching Lord of the Rings with Steve makes me warm and fuzzy.

Somewhere around Weathertop my head starts feeling heavier, and before Arwen has breathed out “What’s this, a ranger caught off his guard?” sleep overtakes me.

It’s dark outside when I wake up. The light from the tv screen is too bright, illuminating Steve’s peaceful face when I look up. He’s deeply entrenched in what I recognise as scenes from Helm’s Deep, a serene smile on his face. His hand rests on my waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I feel an intense urge to reach up and kiss him, but I don’t. Instead, I hum and stretch and rub my eyes.

He looks down. “Hey.” It’s merely a breath. “I didn’t want to wake you up, you looked so comfortable.”

You have no idea. “How many orcs has Gimli killed yet?” I want to tell him, I should tell him. But I don’t know how. And definitely not now. Not when I’m like this. I don’t want to come across as a smitten patient who has a crush on her carer. Not when this is so much more. Damn! I’m in too deep. This is going to be torture!

Steve chuckles and glances up at the tv again. “Seventeen?”

There is something in his eyes, I can’t decipher it, and instead of trying, I shift my attention back to the film, muttering “Hado i philinn,” simultaneously with Aragorn, and lose myself in Middle Earth for a couple of hours.

***

The brush glides through my hair, followed by a gentle hand. Careful movements, every one calculated to do the least amount of damage. It’s a secret dance that we’ve been rehearsing for the last couple of weeks, and I’m sad to see it end.

On the surface, my wound has healed. I can move a lot easier, stretch my torso, twist around. Yes, I still get tired quickly, and I still can’t stand for long amounts of time, but it’s time I take over my own bedtime routine.

I close my eyes, savour his touch, his fingers in my hair… It’s more than I had ever dreamt of. As I exhale, a tiny whimper follows. Steve stops immediately. Oh no!

He lets go and lean down to get a look at my face. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Was it too rough?”

Shit. How do I explain away this one? I can’t. I shake my head and take a deep breath. Inside me every emotion swirls together like a tempest. “No, Steve. You didn’t hurt me. You didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, you do everything right. The thing is…” I pause, watching his face fall.

“Oh.” He gets to his feet and starts to walk away, still with the brush in his hand. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

Not thinking, I reach for his hand. I try to pull him back, but I’m not strong enough yet. The movement shoots daggers through my stomach, but it’s easy to ignore it. “Wait.” The word is small and weak, but important. “Let me finish, please.” Then you can leave, if you need to, I add in my head.

He turns back, watching me with wary eyes.

I weigh my words. If I’m gonna do this, I’m gonna do this right. “The thing is…” I repeat, then clam up again. Come on! You can do this! I clear my throat. “Steve… I love you.”

His jaw drops, as does the hairbrush. It clatters to the floor, but I don’t think he notices. Blinking stupidly, he just stands there like an idiot. If I weren’t so nervous, I’d laugh.

“I have for a long time,” I continue quickly, afraid I’m gonna lose my momentum. “But I was afraid to say something, because I don’t want you to think I’m crushing because you’re kind to me and take care of me, and I don’t want to ruin our friendship, or the team. I didn’t want to make it awkward, but now that I’ve spent so long with you, I just forgot for a moment, that I’m supposed to be normal, that we’re not…” I trail off, want to finish with together, but I can’t bring myself to it. Is he reacting? His face tells me nothing. Crap. I’ve fucked it up. “Steve, say something? Please?”

He shakes his head. “Uh. Sorry. I just… I’m…” A gentle smile. “I was going insane, trying to figure out how to tell you – how you make me feel. That I haven’t felt like this since I don’t remember when… And then you beat me to it. I could kiss you. Can I kiss you?”

“Uh-huh.” This time it’s my turn to blink stupidly, but it takes me less time to recover. “Yes. Please!”

I stretch up to meet him halfway, ignoring the doctor’s orders, and throw my arms around him. The distance between us closes and we pause, just for a moment, to drink in the sensation. Both of us smile into the kiss as we melt together, electricity sparking between us, leaping over the skin, tingling in the hottest, darkest depths of our minds.

When he finally draws back, my breath is heavy. I’m not quite sure where I am, but I’m definitely not complaining. Instead, I pull him back to me, and he follows, hungrily, to kiss me again.

#reblogging through time and space

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writingthingsisdifficult · 1 year ago

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Babes I'm crying laughing screaming in happiness that you're writing again!!!!!!!!!!

Thank you! I'm really happy to get back at it. I've started a new story too, but I'm not sure if it'll lead anywhere yet.

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