Words: 6K

Warnings: Language

"You have a sister?"

Tony rubs his face tiredly. "Believe me, Doc, I'm just as shocked as you are." His hands wring together now at his twisty, turning stomach. His mouth opens slightly to let out a long puff of air.

Bruce Banner scratches the back of his neck. "And she just... what? Showed up on your doorstep?"

"Not exactly." Tony waves a hand in the air to turn on the holographic touch screen. The first thing that appears is a photo of you—a mugshot. "SHIELD showed up on hers. She was suspected of murder."

Bruce's eyes take on a rounder shape. "And did she?"

Tony's gaze, which has been locked on your face in search of your shared father's similarities, darts to Bruce. "Kill someone? Oh yeah. She did. A couple people, actually." He switches over to the next screen. "But that's not the most shocking part." A picture of your house, another of you in handcuffs. Tony breathes out through his nose at the final photo in the series—one where his little sister, a person he's never met—is bound and gagged in a laboratory room with the most distance, emotionless expression on her face.

"She electrocuted them," Tony explains, "With her mind."

...

Two months later

I stand in the grass outside of the Avenger's fancy compound with my backpack of belongings over my shoulder and a stone-featured face. If my mother taught me anything before I killed her, it was to never let anyone see your fears. Fears are weaknesses, and weakness is death.

In the end, she was afraid of me—afraid of the monster she'd created in her desperate attempts to get the Stark family's attention.

Before I can make any movements away from the parked cab, a door opens a few yards off on the side of the building. Strolling into the midday light is the short legged, dark haired man I've come to recognize as being my older brother. We've met in person a handful of times. He was the one to drag me out of the SHIELD prison. He convinced them that the deaths I'd caused had been purely self-defense: which is only partially true. 

"Y/N, you finally made it!"

I lift my arms up in a sort of shrugging gesture. "In one piece, miraculously. I really didn't think I'd live long enough for the day you wanted me on the team." I've known Tony to be my brother for as long as my mother could tell me. She'd constantly whip me with, "You've got to be better. Faster, stronger, deadlier. You have to be good enough for the Starks. You have to; or you're useless."

Tony walks the short distance between me and the door. He stuffs his hands in his tight jean pockets. His eyes, which are nothing like mine in shape or color, run up and down what I wear. I've chosen my favorite tie-dyed ribbed tank underneath a long pair of denim overalls. My shoes are bright yellow sneakers. And with my hair all pulled to one side, he's seeing the lightning bolt shaped scar that runs from my ear down my neck all the way to the center of my chest.

I quirk an eyebrow, waiting for Tony to do something besides stare. I suppose I should be a bit more patient; I've known him to be my sibling for my entire life. He's only since learned about me in the past few months. He's still trying to cope with that fact, and staring at me apparently is helping. But I really don't like being gawked at like some sort of oddity.

"You gonna show me around or what?" I question the big-mouthed man who is suddenly mute.

Tony clears his throat. "Yeah. Yeah. I'll give you a tour." He flashes me that thousand dollar smile that's seen plastered on every TV screen and magazine from here to Timbuctoo.

He offers to take my bag, which I initially consider declining before letting him. He wants to feel useful, so I'll let him carry my shit. I may as well make an attempt to be nice to my only living relative.

"So this is obviously the main floor. The offices, labs, and training facilities are all on the left side from here. We call that the East wing. Then we've got the right side, the West wing, or more commonly known as Best Western." He chuckles lamely at himself before going on. "That's where all the apartments are. Yours is there, too. There's also the kitchen, the gym, the cinema, the laundry..." He glances back to see if I'm still following. I am; only a few steps behind. "I think you get the idea."

"Yep."

Tony takes me on a walking tour of the whole place. It's kind of amazing how every single person knows his name. At the back of my mind I hear my dead mother's voice: "I'm going to make you kill him someday, and you're going to take everything back that belongs to us."

I watch Tony move as he talks, no longer caring what it is that he says. The skin around his eyes wrinkles as he speaks. His eyes, while strange in color to mine, are still rather nice. Could I really kill this man? Probably. But I wouldn't like it, not like I liked killing my mother. It wasn't so much the act of murder that made me proud, but the fact that never again would I have to suffer at her hands ever again. She deserved what I gave her. Tony—my brother and now only familiar person in the world—doesn't seem like someone who deserves the same fate as an electrocuted psycho-maniac.

"...And this is your room."

We've come to a stop outside of a wooden door. I stare a little while at the knob before glancing around at the identical doors next to mine. "And who do these all belong to?"

Tony points to the next one and goes from there down the hall towards the big window. "Your neighbor is Nat, Black Widow as you probably know her. Don't worry about her—she keeps to herself. Then there's Clint's room for when he's around, which he's usually not, and he's next to Wanda and Vision goes after that. On the other side of the hall is Wilson, Barnes, Rhodey, Parker when he's in town, and then the one across from yours is Cap's."

I raise an eyebrow. "I guess I always thought the world's saving team would get their own floor-level apartments or something."

Tony laughs. "Yeah, we don't have the room for that. Besides, I'd rather've spent the money on a pool." He pushes open my door then adds, "And it's a goddamn amazing pool, by the way. You like to swim?"

I glance into my suite. "Water and electricity don't exactly mix," I tell him.

He nods knowingly. "Ah, yes. That makes sense." He steps sort of out of my way so that I can further peek inside. "Go on. It's yours. Make yourself at home."

Maybe the rooms appear small from the outside, but it's rather large. I've got a king size bed flanked by windows that overlook the rolling hills outside. The walls are all white and the linens match. A couch is set up in front of an electric fireplace and flat screen TV. Bookshelves are up on one wall, empty for now, and what I can only guess is the bathroom lies behind a big white door.

"No kitchen?"

Tony smiles. "We like to force everyone down into the communal kitchen for meals. It encourages socializing and bonding... ya know, all that good shit."

"Right," I hum, even though I really hate that idea.

Tony claps his hands together once. "Well, I'll let you get settled." He starts to back out of the room with the intention to leave me alone. "Welcome to the team, Y/N."

I nod, the gesture taking a lot of effort considering the sudden stress I'm being faced with, and then Tony's gone. In my head I hear my mother's voice: shouting at me about how much I should hate him. Then I hear her screams. I think about the days that are going to come after this: ones where I struggle to fit in, to find my way, and to keep up this whole tough-girl façade.

I stare emptily at the spot Tony had been for a long while—struggling to breathe.

That's when I crawl onto my new bed and cry.

...

One week later

"Coffee?"

I perk up slightly at the offer from Tony. Nodding, I hold my hands out for the cup he offers me. He chuckles and passes over some of the fresh morning brew.

"Wow, I think that's the first time I've seen her smile," Clint laughs from his spot at the breakfast table. He takes an obnoxiously large bite of pancake before chugging it down with juice.

"Coffee makes everyone smile," Sam Wilson replies. He notices Bucky Barnes, the former Winter Soldier, sitting across from him and then adds, "Well, everyone except grouchy pants over here."

Bucky rolls his eyes.

Ignoring them, Tony asks me, "Sugar? Cream?"

"Please."

I let him pour a little bit of both into my mug even though it'd make more sense to just do it myself. He's trying to be nice. He's really trying to help me fit in. It's almost painful, really, how much he drags me around. But I grit my teeth and endure it. I know it's probably for the best after all. So far he really isn't awful; not like my mother had claimed. No, he's been very... nice. Dare I say, brotherly?

I've met almost all of the team. The only two I've never seen have been Captain America and my neighbor Natasha. They've been gone on some sort of mission for a while now. I've been so busy trying to figure out the rest of my new life that I really haven't given either of them any thought.

After breakfast I take my coffee and head back to my room upstairs. Quickly I change out of my lazy clothes into something more suited for the day. I want to go on a run, specifically, and maybe work out in that big fancy gym that Tony promised to teach me how to use all the equipment in.

I find my cut off Def Leopard tank top and red spandex shorts that I use to work out in. I didn't grow up with money like Tony did (another reason why my mom insisted I should hate him) so this is all I've got—no fancy training outfits for me. I grab my worn out yellow sneakers then head for the door.

As soon as I step into the hall, I'm met with a surprise.

"Hello."

My eyes widen—feet frozen on the floor. Standing ready to go into the room across from mine is a battered and bruised Captain America.

"Oh." I realize he's speaking to me with those pretty pink lips. "Hi...?"

He offers me a tired smile. It's genuine, but he's exhausted. "You must be the new recruit, huh? Stark's sister?"

I shrug, finally gathering up my sanity. "More or less."

Another person approaches me from the side. I feel my fingers prickle with electricity before recognizing her red hair and tight muscled face. "Natasha Romanov." She offers me a hand.

I shake it. "Y/N." Her grip is freakishly firm.

"We're gonna clean up and get settled. But we'll see you around? For dinner, maybe?"

I panic before realizing he's not asking me out—he's asking if I'll be there tonight for "Family Dinner". "Oh, yeah. I'll be there."

The handsome Captain flashes a captivating smile. "Good. See you there, Y/N."

Then the two of me leave to their respective rooms and I'm left cursing myself. I really didn't handle that introduction as smooth as I could. I was a blabbering mess! What the hell is wrong with me?

I grunt. Maybe I just need a run in the fresh air to clear my head. Shaking out my arms, I head for the stairs.

...

One month later

I trace my finger around the rim of my soda can. Sparks of bluish light are drawn from the aluminum into my skin. I sigh at the pleasant feeling as the power within me grows. I watch the dancing electricity bolts with lazily hooded eyes.

"Bored?" someone laughs from the doorway.

I startle, accidently knocking over my can of Coke.

Steve rushes over. "I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to scare you." He offers me an apologetic smile as he uses the workout towel on his shoulder to clean up the sticky spill. He looks up at me as I sit on the couch and I can't help smile back.

"No worries, I wasn't that thirsty anyway."

Steve finishes with cleanup then rises up to his full height of over six feet. He seems to think about something really hard for a moment before ultimately sitting down beside me on the couch. "How have you been, Y/N?"

"Fine. And you?"

Steve offers me that dazzling smile again. "I'm good. But I meant with settling into the team—your new life. How's that going?"

"Oh. That's fine too." I rub my hands up and down my denim covered thighs, not missing how Steve's blue eyes become distracted and follow my movements. But eventually his gaze darts reluctantly back up to my face. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm just curious," he offers as a reason. "I wanted to make sure there wasn't anything you needed."

I shake my head. "No, everyone's been really nice and welcoming, whether or not I totally deserve it is another question."

The skin between Steve's brows wrinkles as he frowns. "What do you mean by that?"

"I just mean that you've all been really good to me. I never really pictured myself as being one of the good guys, yet here I am, with the lot of you."

Steve shuffles a bit in his seat. "Whether or not you pictured yourself here doesn't matter. A lot of us here have done things that we probably shouldn't've, but that doesn't make us any lesser people than the others on the team."

I regard Steve's face closely—the one I've sorta gotten to know a bit more over this past month. "And what if we don't regret doing those particularly regretful things?"

Steve breathes deeply. "We've all got some of those moments too, Y/N. None of us are perfect."

Softly I chuckle at the irrationality of what the Captain's just said. Confused, he tilts his blond head to one side. "What's funny?"

"You," I reply. "Just kind of ironic hearing you say that nobody's perfect when you're so..." I gesture a hand around him, hoping he gets the point but he only frowns. "Perfect," I finish with a matter-of-fact tone. "Righteous and good, brave and kind, sweet and sincere, gorgeous as hell, I mean—the list goes on and on, Captain."

He clears his throat uncomfortably. "That's really nice, Y/N, but..."

"Oh I'm not trying to flatter you—you probably hear enough flatteries. I'm just stating facts." I reach for my can of Coke before remembering it's empty. I hold it up and say, "Now I'm thirsty." I get up from the couch with the hope that he doesn't follow.

But he does.

"Y/N, I'm not perfect."

I go to the fridge in the kitchen across the hall—digging around leftover containers from all the different fast food people have had this week. "Maybe not." I finally find another can of soda—this one is root beer. I turn to face Steve, seeing that he's leaning on the counter across from me. "But you're pretty damn close." I struggle to open the tight-fitted can with my fragile fingernails. Steve watches me struggle for a moment before offering a hand. I give it over to him, all while saying, "My mom raised me to hate people like you, you know. I think that's part of the reason why it's been kinda hard for me to fit in here. My whole life I've been told that this isn't where I belong. I belong somewhere where they treat me like a dog to do show-tricks and kill people that get in their way." Steve hands me back my soda—now opened. "Thanks."

Steve rests his arms back on the granite counter behind him. His tight white shirt strains with the movement of his oversized, juicy pecs. "And do you believe her?"

"Sort of," I admit. "For some things." I touch the handle of the fridge and hear it purr with more life as I shoot a bit more energy into it. "I don't want to be enemies with any of you, but I don't exactly feel like I belong all the time."

"Well," Steve begins with a heavy sigh. "I happen to think your mom was wrong; straight across the board." He pushes away from the counter to come slightly closer. "I don't have any doubts that this is where you belong, Y/N. No one does. You're Tony's blood, and you're our family now. And if you ever forget that, or second guess your worth, you can always come find me." He smiles softly. "I'd be happy to remind you."

I open my mouth before closing it—sort of confused by where this interaction has led. Finally I say, "Steve, uh, thanks..."

"Oh I'm not trying to flatter you," he interrupts gently with a frisky grin. I feel his smile warming my whole body as he steps closer. My heart beats faster. Faces a few inches apart, he mocks me, "I'm just stating the facts." The he winks, and I know I'm sure as hell a goner.

...

Five months later

"Fucking hell! Did you have to do it so fucking hard!?"

"You asked what it'd feel like! I can't help the fact that it's going to hurt!" I laugh along with everyone else around the pool. It's a pretty summer day and we've just gotten back from a mission—most of us have, anyway. It was my fifth one and it ended pretty well. I saved Tony's life, actually. More than once.

Sam rubs his arm where I shocked him. He's got a pouty look on his face. Immediately he seeks out Steve's sympathy as the super soldier strolls over.

"Steve! Y/N shocked me!"

"He asked for it!" I shout over Sam's cries.

Tony and Clint are cackling like hyenas in the background. Steve, meanwhile, stands above me with a lopsided smile. He's drenched in pool water from where he'd just been splashing around with Peter and Wanda. Now his board-shorts hang low and loose on his delicious hips. The lines and crevices of his abs are like the yummy grates of a waffle that I just wanna eat—lick the syrup off each one.

I shake my head. What the hell is wrong with me? When did I turn into a dirty-minded freak?

"Why do you two insist on tantalizing each other like children?"

I smirk, regaining my composure quickly. "Because it's fun." Then Sam shrieks—I've zapped him again.

"FUCK YOU, Y/N!"

"Hey!" Tony shouts amidst giggles. "Don't cuss at my baby sister!"

Nat snorts. "Hate to break it to ya, Stark, but she's twenty-four. She's not exactly a baby."

Tony pouts and takes a drink of his martini. "I can pretend, okay?"

Steve ignores everyone else. He holds out a hand for me. "You wanna join us? Come for a swim?"

"I would," I reply sadly. He notices my sigh and frowns—hand falling. "But water and electricity..."

"They don't mix," Tony finishes for me from his lounger chair. He slurps on his drink through a straw.

Sam rubs his arm still. "How do you shower then?"

I roll my eyes with a grin. "Wouldn't you like to know, Bird Brains?"

Doctor Banner, who has been silent till now, speaks up. "Electricity charged water molecules. We had to specially design a washroom for her. It works very well." He pushes his glasses up his nose.

Steve sits down next to me at the patio table. "Well then, I'll just stay out here with you."

I raise an eyebrow. "Why? I thought you were swimming?"

"I was but I changed my mind." He shrugs, not exactly meeting my eyes. "I'll just stay here and talk to you." His baby blues dart up to my face again. "If that's alright?"

I smile. "Perfectly fine by me, Cap."

...

Three months later

Being an Avenger has really changed me. I've opened up more, I've made friends, and I've found love in so many different forms. But one thing about me is still the very same: I'm a badass bitch when it comes to the battlefield.

That's the main reason Tony's taken me to London today. There's a battle, like there often is, and it's big. Steve, Bucky, Nat, Wanda, Vision, Sam and Clint are all here too. My brother is flying around the sky fighting these stupid robot things that have seemingly come out of nowhere. I don't really keep up with the political reasoning behind these things, but my guess would be that someone new is trying to take over the world (or at least the better half of Great Britain).

"Y/N? You doing alright?" I hear someone in my ear. It's Steve's voice.

"Doing great, Cap. These things were just built to be electrocuted, let me tell ya." As if on cue, another robot runs straight for me. I easily take it down with an extended hand and a bolt of bright white energy. The power overwhelms the system and it explodes—taking out two more robots to either side of it.

"Stay where you are, sis. You're keeping them away from the civilians on the other side of the bay," Tony's now in my earpiece.

"Alright." I'm positioned with Nat near the mouth of the big bridge stretching from one side of the water logged city to the other. The bridge is beautiful but daunting. We can't let the robots cross. Clint and Wanda have taken all the locals and tourists there. We already lost lives when the London Eye collapsed. I'd die myself before witnessing any more innocents falling dead on the streets.

"Wanda?" Clint's voice is there beckoning for someone else.

"Here. At your six."

"Don't scare me like that, kid."

"Sorry!"

Robots are piling out of buildings and sewer grates like cockroaches. They wreak havoc with every step they take. The noises that scream from their mechanical mouths are loud and earsplitting. My brain throbs with the high pitches squeals.

"Get up, Nat!" I growl between my teeth. The woman with the red hair beside me jumps up—hand holding her up by the outstretched limb of a tree. And as soon as she's out of my power's reach, I screw my eyes closed. In a fit of anger I slam my hands on the ground. My skin grows hot and erupts in sharp white light. My eyes burn, feeling like they've been ripped out and replaced with flames, and open wide just in time to see the length of the city ahead of me erupt in flames. The electricity I've shot through the ground has found every possible outlet—destroying every robot that's had a foot on the asphalt. They burst into balls of electricity charged fire. From the sky, explosions of white, red, and blue are all that can be seen.

I stumble back. My balance is thrown with the intensity of what I've just done. Light posts still explode every few seconds. A building a half mile off crumbles into a pile of flickering white light. Out of the ashes robot carnage falls.

"Way to go, lightening girl!" I hear Tony cheer in my ear. I smile weakly, forgetting momentarily that he's not here.

From out of the wreckage, emerging through a cloud of smoke like a dream, Steve appears with Bucky at his side. His dark grey and blue uniform is tattered and torn. There's blood on his shield and dripping down his jaw. The wind flutters his mop of greasy blond hair. I see him against the setting sun and feel my knees give out under me. I try to stop myself before I can hit the ground, but my arms hold no strength.

Steve's the one to stop my head from cracking against the street. He cradles my neck in one hand while his other touches my cheek.

"Y/N? Y/N, are you okay? Say something to me." He sounds a bit angry, but mainly concerned. Bucky's standing above us with his machine gun aimed to shoot anything that dares wander our way.

I push up higher in his lap. "I'm—I'm fine." I squint at the bright light of the nearest building going up in flames. "That took a lot of..." my cough interrupts me.

"Get her out of there, Steve. Get on the other side—all of you. She took out most of them over here." Tony's voice is stern in our ears. "I can take out the stragglers as they follow you over."

Steve stands—taking me in his arms. I widen my eyes at the strange sensation of being cuddled against his sturdy chest. It's not unpleasant, I'll say. My heart picks up speed as I breathe in his scent and rest my cheek on his breast. I close my eyes as I feel his legs start to move underneath.

"Copy that, Stark." Steve glances down to me before saying to Bucky and Nat, "You got my six?"

"Always." The sound of a gun cocking is rather eerie, but comforting knowing that Bucky's on the other end.

The world starts to move around me. Steve jogs us in the direction of the bridge. A few gunshots means that a few remaining bots have followed us this way.

I open my eyes and look over Steve's shoulder. I see that Nat's pulled out two handguns and shoots back behind her as she runs. Bucky's right beside her doing the same.

"Let me down, Steve. I can help." I tug at his sleeve in hopes he'll listen.

His flushed face is stoic as his jaw tightens. "You've done plenty enough, Y/N. You're going to hurt yourself if you do any more..."

"NAT!" I scream. I've been watching the whole fight scene over Steve's shoulder. I've just seen five robots pile on top of my friend—trampling her alive.

Steve pivots on a heel. My hair, dirty and long, whips in the breeze. The smell of ash and Steve's blood fills my nostrils. I feel his body become even stiffer as he asses the situation: another hundred cyborgs have crawled out of the ash, deformed with melted wire faces, and claw towards us. We're halfway across the bridge. I can sense Steve's unsureness radiating off of him. Bucky's shouting at us to go on, but his struggle is palpable.

"We have to help them, Steve!"

Steve looks down to me in his arms. He bites his cheek. Cursing lowly, he stoops low to set me down just behind the shelter of a flipped, abandoned car. "Steve! Seriously?!"

"Stay, Y/N!" His demand is cold and hard to argue with. I scowl at him as he slowly backs away—shield at his chest. "Don't test me, Y/N. Stay. Here." Domineeringly Steve points to my hiding space before swiftly turning away. He runs out to help Nat and Bucky at the very front of the bridge. I stare at his broad back and narrow waist as he dashes away. Bastard leaves me here when I could help...

I try rising to my feet but my legs jiggle and give out beneath me. I gasp and fall to my hands and knees. Gritting my teeth, I still try to push upwards.

"Keep them off that goddamn bridge! We can't let them on the other side," I hear my brother in the microphone in my ear. Bullets and grunts fill the air. A few of the robots still have the ability to scream.

I don't know where they're coming from, but they keep pushing forward. The cyborgs are steadily streaming past my allies that desperately fight to keep them from reaching the bridge. A few stragglers touch the surface of the bridge only to be shot down by one of Tony's beams from above.

My eyes, wide and alert, dart along my surroundings. Behind me are at least five thousand civilians in hiding. A few leagues ahead is where Steve and the others fight. They're blocking the entrance to the bridge valiantly. All around me flipped cars and abandoned bikes make the bridge look like something out of an apocalypse movie.

In my mind a plan has taken shape. I know, oh deep down I know, Tony and the others will hate it. But when have I been one to do what other people tell me?

On my knees, still weak from before, I pull myself towards the hood of the minivan Steve's stashed me behind. Blood oozes from my wounds. I hate the smell of carnage. It's thick like a butcher house's cologne and makes my skin crawl with disgust.

Up ahead, more bots have slipped through. They're running towards me—dragging half blown limbs behind them. Tony struggles to keep up with shooting them from the sky. Now there's at least a hundred crawling over; enough to kill at least a thousand civilians on the other side.

"Is anyone on the bridge? I repeat, are any of you losers on the bridge?" I shout into the com.

"No," Nat pants.

"Negative," I get from Bucky and Clint both.

"I'm in the city," Wanda replies.

"Not yet," Steve says. He grunts as I see one of the bots ram into his shield.

"Good," I reply curtly. Miraculously I manage to pry open the hood of the crushed van. I lay my hand atop the battery—feeling the pulse of electricity begin to power me. "Because I'd hate to hurt any of you."

Poor Tony sounds so confused. "Y/N?"

My eyes are closed tight. I don't want to respond.

Then I make it explode.

The minivan is the first bomb to go off. The boom is enough to draw screams from the children in their mother's arms on the other side. Then two more vehicles follow in fiery pursuit. Clouds of terribly black smoke rise into the air. The crack of shattering rock follows behind the shaking of the bridge underfoot. I feel the ground tremble as my limbs surge with more power than I've ever known. Cables snap like violin chords—one by one and noisily—on either side of the bridge.

I stumble back as the floor splits beneath me. I catch sight of the stagnant water waves underneath and feel bile start to rise. When I fall into that ravine I'm dead—no question about it. My surge has blown out my mic, but I can hear them all still shouting my name.

The bridge collapses in the middle like a stack of playing cards hit by a breeze. And amongst the bots and rubble, I go down with it. Maybe my mother was right about one thing in the end: weakness is death. And if there's anything in this world I know for sure, the people on this team are weaknesses to me.

...

Twenty nine hours later

"You are in so much trouble."

I smirk up at my older brother from where I sit at the edge of my bed with an icepack to my forehead. "What're you gonna do? Ground me?"

Tony gives me a wet-eyed smile. His voice is pretty croaky as he replies, "You know what? I think I'm gonna have to. I can't have you pulling another stunt like that again. I've only got one little sister, and I don't plan on losing her anytime soon."

"But you didn't lose me. You saved me, jerk," I remind him. It's true—I was only a few seconds away from a watery, painful death when my brother swooped down from the sky. Wearing that stupid gold and red suit he snatched me up by the arm and lugged me to shore. I got hit in the head a few different places, but the doctor assures me I'll be fine.

"But what if I hadn't? What if—"

I close my eyes. "I get it, Tony."

My brother takes a breath. "Okay, okay. I'll lecture you later." I peak open an eye to see him smiling. He walks across the room to kiss my head. I feel myself smiling, too. I think I hear him say, "I love you, kid." He doesn't give me the chance to respond before he's turning around and leaving me. "Get some rest," he calls over his shoulder.

The door's only shut behind him for half a minute before there's a knock. I cringe at the noise, head still throbbing, and call, "What the hell is it?"

Steve Rogers pops his head in. "Hey, Y/N."

I sit up straighter. "Oh, Steve. Come on in." I haven't seen the super soldier since before... well, before I almost killed myself by exploding a car battery. After I hit my head I was unconscious, and I only woke up when we got home to the compound. Since then, I've only had time to change into my favorite tie-dye and wash the blood from my hair.

The door creaks as Steve lets himself in. He closes it behind him. "How are you, uh, how are you feeling?" he sounds a bit unsure of himself.

"Fine, thanks." I pat the bed next to me.

Steve smiles awkwardly before joining me. He doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands. "That's good." He stops, seeming to want to say more. "Listen, I just wanted to apologize."

"For what exactly?" I quirk an eyebrow up.

"For leaving you there on the bridge," Steve lets out in a single breath. "I shouldn't've left you like that."

I frown. "Steve, don't be an idiot. Everything worked out perfectly."

"No, no, it didn't." He gives his head a stern shake. He's having a hard time meeting my eyes. "I made a huge mistake, Y/N. And—and I almost lost you." His eyes widen slightly. "We, I mean, we almost lost you."

I offer him a sympathetic smile; the type of smile I hardly ever give. "It's okay, Steve. No one's perfect..." I playfully punch his shoulder. "Even you." I refer back to one of our first conversations with a grin.

Steve chuckles. "Maybe not," he says gently. Finally his eyes lift to meet mine. "But you're pretty damn close."

I look down to my folded hands on my lap. My icepack is slowly melting onto my sheets, but I don't pay any attention to it now. Then, without saying anything, I lean over to press a little kiss to Steve's cheek. My lips linger there while my fingertips gently brush against his jaw. I feel him take a staggering breath at the pleasant little ripple of heat that comes from my lips.

I pull away. Steve's eyes find mine, looking at me intently. I give him another smile. In response, he grants me with another kiss—this time, with his lips to mine. It's peaceful and quiet and feels so right. He touches my neck with one hand while the other moves behind me on the bed. His body sort of wraps around mine like a big, masculine blanket. I smile against his lips until he breaks away.

"Was that okay?" he whispers quietly.

I nod gently. Our noses brush together, making my smile wider. "It was perfect."