"I'm really, really sorry, (Y/N)," Steve was practically begging on the other end of the phone line, "it was an accident, but it was totally on me. Are you doing okay? How are you feeling? How long do you think you'll be staying there?"

"Most people breathe between sentences at least, Cap," you smiled, "you need to calm down."

"Hey, let me wallow in guilt and self-loathing, alright? You should enjoy hearing it from...what was it you called me not that long ago..." he paused until the answer came to him, "Captain Conceited?"

"Stuck-up Steve."

"Close enough," he scoffed, "just let me beg until I feel better, alright?"

"Fine, but seriously, I'm not mad. T'Challa is the one who seems to be holding a grudge."

There was a long silence on Steve's side of the call, but you waited patiently, listening to the tense sound of his breathing as he formulated what he wanted to say. No matter what would happen between the two stoic leaders, he would always try to do his best to maintain respect for the king and his country; no matter how pissed off he was. "Well maybe he should loosen the grip a bit. Or did one of his claws get stuck?"

"Steve!"

"What? The man practically kidnaps you from my own arms and takes you off to his country with a wave of his hand to dismiss me away? You can't expect me to not be a little offended and not worried about you. We haven't known him for that long."

A small knock on your door broke your concentration from the discussion, leaving you to dismiss the Captain again, unfortunately timed with his last comment. "Steve, someone's at the door, I've got to go. I'll call you later tonight." With a quick goodbye you closed the line and set your phone aside, carefully swinging your legs over the side of the bed to stand. When you put your weight on your feet, a wave of pain coursed through you, tightening in your chest where the shield had hit you. You reacted with a sharp breath and a gasp, hurrying to sit back down, though the pain didn't lessen at all.

"(Y/N), I'm opening the door," T'Challa announced, barging in not more than a second later. "Stop, let me help you." He hurried to your side and gently slid his hands under your legs to slowly position you back in place. "You should not be getting up yet. You simply needed to say if I could come in or not."

"Come in," you laughed softly, holding your side to attempt a normal breath, but the pain was too great. "I forgot that day two was going to be worse than day one."

"Hmm, well then, I see that my plans for the day will have to wait," he replied quietly, though the look in his eyes as he watched you was full of concern, and he was unknowingly biting his lower lip with poorly hidden anxiety. "I will call the doctor in."

"No," you interrupted, reaching out to grab his arm, "No, I just need a minute. Please, stay here."

Before you could release your grip, his hand came up to rest atop yours, careful to not make any movements that could give you even the slightest discomfort that would add to the pain you were already in; leaving your side now sounded like the most ridiculous idea and it was a shock to him that you would consider that he might.

"(Y/N), I don't intend on going anywhere."

~~~

Despite your insistence, T'Challa had the doctor come by and reassure him that you were alright, knowing full well that he may be facing your ridicule and a few rounds of I told you so. He grimaced along with you at each press of the doctor's hand into your skin, wanting to both step away and to step in to stop it, but he held back; he had no responsibility to you nor you to him, and it would be inappropriate to act that way.

"She's healing very well, your highness," the doctor reported, "she should be able to fly home tomorrow at the earliest, but today it would be good to focus on rest."

"Thank you," the king replied quietly, furrowing his brow as he thought of what he was going to do. He didn't want you to leave yet, but he had no way to keep you there; once the team knew that you were healthy enough to return, they would likely insist on it. He hadn't even begun his personally appointed challenge to get you to see yourself as he saw you, as he had promised to do, but his plans were being thwarted at every turn.

"Please, wait here," he said to you with a calm smile, holding out an extended hand to lead the doctor out. "I'll be back soon."

"Not a problem. You saw how well it went when I tried to get up."

~~~

It was nearly two hours before T'Challa returned, a large and covered silver tray in hand. He struggled slightly with maneuvering through the door, using his foot to close it behind him with a bang louder than he anticipated.

"I can see why they call you Your Grace," you smirked was you watched him uncover the meal that he had brought in.

"No one talks to me the way that you do, (Y/N)."

"I'm sorry," you backpedaled, "I didn't mean to be disrespectful."

"No, it's not that," he laughed quietly, barely audible under the taps and clangs of dishes and silverware shifting under his hands, "I appreciate it. You treat me like a normal person. You don't cower behind protocol and rules that do nothing but distance me from my own people."

"So why don't you change them? I thought you were the king."

"It's not that simple. These are things that are steeped in tradition that go back throughout our history. I have always known that my future would distance me, but it makes it no easier to become accustomed to." He took two plates in hand and carefully approached you, handing you one before taking a seat at the table next to your bed.

"You're going to sit way over there?"

"Well, yes," he replied in a bit of surprise, looking around the room, "you should stay in bed and this is the closest table. I could bring it closer?"

"Or you could sit up here? Unless you're scared to sit by me," you goaded, patting the spot next to you. "I won't bite."

"Yes, but perhaps I will," T'Challa replied with a widening grin, eagerly grabbing his food to sit at your side. He brought his legs up, crossing them casually and leaning back against the headboard, trying to not look too out of place and not too excited to be there. "I hope you enjoy your meal. It's one of the first things that I learned to make. It's not as intricate as what my chefs would put together, but I wanted to do this for you."

"You made this?"

"I'll try to not take your lack of faith personally, (Y/N), but yes. I made this. It's a bit spicy, so use caution when you take your first taste."

He was right; the first bite was a bit strong and had you quickly reaching for your water, but after that, you quickly adapted and began to appreciate the different tastes that you were finding in the dish. When you turned to ask him what it was that you were eating, you noticed that he had yet to take a bite of his own meal and was watching you intently.

"This is great, T'Challa, thank you."

"You are most welcome," he sighed in relief, allowing himself to now eat as well. The silence in the room grew again now that you were both occupied, but it didn't feel uncomfortable to either of you. Every few bites or so, he would pause and glance over to you, only to see you looking back; eventually it had happened so many times that he couldn't help but chuckle at the awkwardness of it. "What?"

"Nothing...well, not really nothing...but...I can't help but wonder why you're doing this."

"Really, (Y/N)?" he sighed, his laughter gone as he set his plate down on the bed in front of him. "Why is it so difficult for you to accept that another person could be interested in you? What wrong has been done to you that you have devalued yourself so, and how do I undo it?"

"It's not for you to undo," you snapped, perhaps a bit more harshly than you had meant to, but you didn't apologize. "It's not for you to take on as a project, T'Challa. Really, it's kind of you to think that you have an interest in me, and to do things like this, but you'll see that I'm not worthy of it. Trust me."

"I will not trust you," he readily argued, turning to face you, "and I will not accept this. I have seen you as both a formidable warrior in battle and as a person who refuses to compromise on their beliefs. You tell me that I should change the world around me to fit who I am, but you won't do that for yourself. You are so much more than you give yourself credit for."

You were immediately regretting even bringing it up, and you knew that arguing with him would only ruin the last hours of time that you would have in his company before returning home to the team. Hoping that he would accept the change in conversation, you decided to let the whole thing go. "Okay," you relented, "I'll take your words to heart and think about them. But I don't want to spend this time arguing about it." You set your plate aside as he did, turning to him with a faint smile, "what else did you have planned for today before I ruined it?"

"I would hardly say it's been ruined. But I had planned to show you a few things here first, and then to take you out so that you could see what a beautiful country we have. Perhaps we can still do some of that tomorrow before..." he paused, nervously gathering the dishes and hopping down from his seat, "before you leave."

"I'd like that." You couldn't help but feel like you were hurting him somehow by going back home, and you didn't know why. You were becoming friends, more so than you ever were as teammates because he had only worked with the Avengers a few times, but there hadn't been anything more to make you feel this way.

"Well, since I have to be locked up in here all day, do you have any good movie recommendations? Maybe something that you could stay and watch with me?"

"I don't have much time for movies," he replied with a shake of his head. "One of the burdens of my role. All work and no play."

His words had your mind racing to place them, having heard them before; when it finally came to you, you grew excited that maybe you could show him something new for a change. "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," you murmured the film line to yourself, turning to him with an expectant smile. "T'Challa, have you ever seen The Shining?"

"I don't believe so."

"Well believe me, you would know. Have a seat, my friend," you again patted the seat next to you. "I think I may have something that could scare even the mighty Black Panther. But don't worry, I'll protect you."

~~~

After watching The Shining, T'Challa quickly decided that he really enjoyed the horror film genre, readily taking any and every recommendation that you gave to watch next. You had made your way through Psycho, Rosemary's Baby, Halloween and Invasion of the Body Snatchers before you felt your eyes begin to grow heavy as darkness settled in. He was so enthralled in the current movie that you didn't have the heart to ask him to go, and you really didn't want him to. Instead, you shifted your weight towards him and leaned in, resting your head cautiously on his shoulder.

You felt his posture stiffen slightly at the surprise, but then he relaxed and pulled his arm up to drape over you, holding you steady so that you could sleep if you wanted to. "Thank you for this day, (Y/N)," he whispered. "Thank you for allowing me to bring you here."

When you murmured a sleepy reply in kind, his arm tightened and he left a small kiss against your hair; you weren't sure if you had imagined it as your sleep began to take over, so you looked up at him to question it. Before you could utter a single word, your answer came with another kiss, this time when his lips had eagerly found yours.