Don't worry- it's fluffy, not scary

There were a few advantages to having Steve Rogers as your next-door neighbor; he was the best at opening tough pickle jars, he always took care of spiders even though you knew it grossed him out too, you taught him to love your favorite ice cream so he would bring home a pint for you when he restocked his own, amongst other perks. But tonight, you learned of one more advantage that you never would have guessed you would need; Steve had absolutely no fear of the dark.

You, on the other hand, were terrified. Especially on nights like tonight, when you were left home alone with no protection from the shadows that looked far too ominous and sounds of creaking walls that you were certain were monsters ready to eat you. Sure, it was a childhood fear that you hadn't quite let go, but no amount of rational thought was helping you as you curled up on your bed and tucked into your blankets. No amount of rational thought would convince you that there wasn't something under your bed ready to eat your feet if they dangled over the mattress just a little too far.

Steve.

The sound of his phone buzzing on his nightstand woke Steve from a sound sleep, something that normally didn't happen; he lived in such a state of sleep deprivation with missions and work on the team that he rarely got a full night in his own bed. He rolled over with a long yawn, his hand flailing and searching in the dark for the device, only to knock it to the floor with a loud thud.

"Great," he groaned, leaning down with a swipe of his hand over the floor until he connected. The screen came to life with a blinding light, making him squint just to make out his name on the message, typing back with clumsy fingers.

What?

Are you asleep?

Not anymore.

Can you come over here?

(Y/N), it's 3am. What could you possibly need at 3am?

I'm home alone and there's weird noises over here and I'm scared.

It was like you knew exactly what to say to put his senses on edge, the idea of you alone and the possibility of what those noises could be leaving him no choice but to get up and check on your safety. Steve was a man filled with potential for self-blame, and if anything were actually going on that brought you into harm's way because you lived next to Captain America, then he would never forgive himself for not going over there.

It had to have been barely thirty seconds before you heard him slide his spare key into the lock and the familiar creak of your old wooden door opening. Even knowing that it was him and that he was here to protect you, you stayed tightly bundled in your blankets with your feet safely far from the edge of the mattress.

"Hey," he whispered, peeking into your room with a hand over his eyes, "can I come in?"

"That's why I texted you. You can uncover your eyes, Steve."

"Okay," he sighed, dropping his hand and reaching out to turn on one of your small lamps for a little bit of light. His feet stumbled just a bit in the unfamiliar environment, but he managed to not trip and break anything on the way. "So, these noises-"

"There's a monster under my bed."

"I'm...uh, I'm sorry?" he smirked, trying his best not to laugh out loud. "A monster under your bed? Are you serious?"

"Steeeeve, come on. Just please look under there," you whined, giving him your best pout. "I went to a scary movie with my friends last night and now I can't sleep because I'm still freaked out. I know that if I hang my feet over the edge something's gonna eat them. It's not real, and it's not rational, I get that. But neither is fear."

Steve stopped his laughter and furrowed his brow as he thought, considering what you said and how genuine you looked in your worry. He had a few irrational fears of his own, though none he felt like sharing, and to watch the shake in your hands as you held your blankets up tightly at your chin left him remembering what this kind of panic felt like. "Alright, I'll look. If all's clear, I'm going back home, okay?"

"That's all I ask, thank you."

"Mmm hmm." He made his way carefully towards your bed, turning to sit on the edge before leaning down to pull the loose corner of your blanket up so that he could see beneath the mattress. "Whoa! What's that?!" he exclaimed, pulling his feet up and his knees to his chest, panic building in his eyes.

"What?! What is what?!"

"You really need to clean up your dishes, (Y/N), that's disgusting! I think that plate moved!"

"Oh my god, I hate you," you gasped, trying to catch your breath while he laughed aloud, holding his sides and unable to control it. "You're such a jerk." You pulled a hand from beneath the safety of your covers to land a hard punch to his arm, which you were certain that he barely even felt. He raised up his hands defensively, giving up and trying to calm himself so that you wouldn't strike again, but it didn't slow you down at all.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry, stop. Ow, stop hitting me!"

"You're so mean!"

"I'm sorry!" he tried again, waiting for you to drop back against your pillow while he wiped away tears from his cheeks as his laughter finally faded fully away. "Okay, so tell me what movie you saw. What's got you so worked up?"

"IT."

"Is that the name of the movie, or are you messing with me?"

"You haven't heard of it?"

"Nope, can't say that I have," he shrugged. "Avenging doesn't leave much time for going to movies. So, what's it about?"

"Here, grab my laptop," you pointed across the room, waiting as he stood and collected it for you. You pushed yourself up to sit against the headboard, still tightly nestled into the blankets, however. "Sit."

"Yes, ma'am." Steve sat next to you on the edge of your bed, politely taking up only enough room to keep himself from sliding off and onto the floor. He had already felt strange enough being in your bedroom, and to be sitting on the bed left him a little uncomfortable.

"Okay, here," you said as you turned the screen to face him, "this is the longest trailer, and it has the best scenes so you can get an idea." With a gentle tap of your finger, you began the clip, watching it with your eyes almost shut even though you had just seen the entire movie only a few hours before. As the sounds eerily seeped from the speakers, you heard Steve suck in a harsh breath and hold it, making you open your eyes only to see him chewing on his thumbnail anxiously, his eyes wide with fear. "You okay, Cap?"

"What is that?" he asked almost frantically and pointing at the screen. "What is that, (Y/N)? Right there, what is that?! Oh my god is that a clown?!" Steve stood up with a squeal, rushing over to the other side of your bed and hopping up to push himself under the blanket next to you, but he still couldn't stop watching. "No! No, no, no, no, why is he chewing on that hand like that OH MY GOD! He's gonna eat those kids, isn't he? What's with the balloon...OH NO!" He all but yanked the blanket fully off of you now, pulling it up and over his head with hands that were now shaking as much as yours had been. "I don't want to float too, (Y/N)."

"Oh, Steve, I'm sorry! I didn't know that you were scared of clowns or I never would have showed you that. Are you okay?"

"Can I...can I stay here?" he whispered meekly, keeping his head covered. He sounded nothing like the brave Steve Rogers that you had come to know, and that the world depended on far too often. "I'm home alone and my apartment makes weird noises at night."