In which you are abducted, and demanded to reveal the whereabouts of Steve Rogers. (Part 2)

It had finally sunk into your brain that you were going to die here. 

It was... an odd thought. One you didn't think you would have until later in life. Daunting, like it, didn't belong in your head. It didn't feel real, like something from a dream, almost. 

But this was most certainly happening, and it scared the living shit out of you. 

You physically could not hold on much longer. Dig deep, you commanded, adjusting your grip on the wet bars. Your fingers were cramping badly, slipping more and more each second. 

You tried fixing your grip again, only for your fingers to miss the bar entirely and fall to your side. You gasped in surprise and tried to reach up. But you were just so tired. 

Your last thoughts before your other hand fell from the bars and you tumbled into the water were of Steve, praying he'd remember you.  

Steve Rogers 

"Stark you son of a bitch, you said this was the place." 

"For gosh sake watch your language." 

"Come on Steve, you're supposed to be a role model." 

"Both of you I swear to-" 

"-Jesus lord almighty and holy spirit amen." 

"My God Stark, you're a piece of work." 

"Why thank you, Rogers." Steve revved his motorbike again, moving faster through the streets of New York. Tony flew above to roofs of the buildings, keeping a birds-eye-view. Sam flew somewhere nearby, but Steve couldn't see him. Clint and Nat rode in a car close by, following his lead. 

They pulled up a block away from a warehouse, it was far from abandoned, in fact, there were still workers milling around, carrying clipboards and other random items. 

"You sure about this one, Stark?" 

"Undoubtedly, your over-protective ass can come in handy sometimes." Steve rolled his eyes and started up the motorbike. drawing closer to the group of people. 

"It was for good reason!" Tony scoffed. 

"Even I don't put trackers in my girlfriend's earings Rogers, and you call me a piece of work." 

"Both of you, shut it." Nat's voice cut through their banter as she stepped out of the car, Clint on her heels. "We need to clear this place out." 

"Got you covered Romanoff." Tony crashed down from the sky, superhero landing and all, and yelled to the gathering crowd of workers. "Alright, people, time to move out. Official Avengers business." No one moved, and Steve almost jumped in to help when Tony sighed and muttered something under his breath.  

Compartments holding rockets popped open on his arms, back and shoulders. Screams erupted from the crowd and they immediately scattered. Tony chuckled and the compartments hissed closed. "Jesus Christ Tony, really?" 

"I didn't see you having a better plan, Rogers." Steve sighed and revved the bike again, rolling into the warehouse through an open garage door. 

Stacks of crates were everywhere, the entire floor was like a gigantic maze, really. Steve stepped off the bike and stood up straight, Nat, Clint, and Tony by his side. Sam was still supposed to wait outside, to keep a bird's eye view (pun intended). 

The wood crates in some places were stacked higher than his head, Steve could see a part of the floor that was completely open over a lower pile and crept toward it. "You're sure-" gunfire interrupted Steve's question and he ducked behind the crate to avoid bullets.  

"Pretty sure Rogers!" The sound of Tony charging up his repulsers was quickly followed by more gunfire and Steve held his shield over his head. 

And he still needed to find [Y/N], that was beginning to look more like finding a needle in a haystack. 

The gunfire paused and Steve took that as his cue to leap over a crate and launch the shield at the closest man. It hit him square in the chest and he flew backward. Someone yelled something in French and pointed his gun at his chest. Clint shot him with an arrow as Tony and Nat joined the party, shooting henchmen down left and right. 

Steve clenched his fist, activating a magnet to draw his shield back. It latched onto his forearm, and as he looked around the warehouse, he noticed a hole in the floor covered by a very heavy looking set of bars and ran over.  

It was filled with water- the hole was, but it wasn't much of a hole, more a cell, at least seven feet deep. A pair of very familiar looking boots and socks rested at the bottom. 

And chained to the floor, unmoving, was [Y/N]. 

Steve's breath hitched in his throat. He paused for a brief second, before using his shield to bust open the lock holding down the bars. He tore them free and threw it with barely restrained fury at another man running in his direction. 

He attached the shield to his back and dove headfirst into the freezing water. 

It took him a total of fewer than five seconds to reach the bottom and grab the chain holding you to the floor. Steve braced his feet against the ground, grabbed the metal links, and yanked hard. It didn't budge, but after two more tries, the lock broke loose.  

Steve wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling the chain around you free. It clinked to the bottom, coiling like a dead snake. Steve adjusted his grip around your torso, and kicked off the floor, swimming to the top. 

He gasped for breath, bringing your head above the water, your wet hair falling like curtains. His helmet had fallen off when he'd dived, but that was the least of his concerns. Getting you breathing again was his first priority. 

Steve shuffled to the edge of the circle, one hand pulling both of you along, the other keeping your head above water. 

Tony waltzed over as he dragged both of you out of the water, hair falling across his forehead. "Rogers what the hell- oh, that's a problem." Steve didn't even bother responding, just lay you down on the cement floor, cradling your head. 

"Get Nat and Clint, and where's Sam?" 

"Still outside," Tony muttered as he waved over Natasha and Barton, rounding up the last of the henchmen in a corner. 

Steve bent over you, feeling for a pulse on your neck, and his own heart nearly stopped when he didn't find one. "Shit, shit, shit, [Y/N] can you hear me? Please darling." Tony didn't even criticize his choice of words, simply stood by, and kept a lookout.

Natasha came running over, Clint trying to trip over her to get to you and Steve. He shook your shoulders again, calling out your name. "[Y/N], come on darling, please." Nothing, not even a breath of air. 

So Steve went into soldier mode, immediately beginning chest compression over your soaked shirt. Natasha stood by, speaking into her commlink, most likely to Sam. "We have [Y/N], she's unconscious. Tell Fury to send the Quinjet."

Steve leaned in to feel if you were breathing, but when he felt nothing, his panic grew. Stay calm, he ordered, rescue breathes next. He swore he heard your voice in his head: pull it together Spangles, or I'll call Tony over here to hear you swear at me.

So, tilting your chin up and opening your lips, he took a deep breath and transferred it into your mouth. He did it again, twice more, before your eyes flashed open, wide and afraid, and you spat out water. 

You rolled over, still hacking out streams of water. Steve sat back on his haunches, breathing out a sigh of relief, running a hand through his wet hair.

Once you finished coughing up all the water in your lungs, and could actually take in clean gulps of air, Steve reached over a placed a hand on your back, rubbing his thumb back and forth. "Darling?"

"Steve I swear-" cough, "-give me a damn minute."

"Language," he whispered, a small smile playing on his lips. You coughed again, but Steve could hear the laugh in it. 

You'd calmed down after a couple minutes, and Steve asked you if you wanted to stand. "Not particularly," You responded, laying on your back, wet hair splaying out around your head. Steve combed his fingers through it.

Natasha tapped his shoulder, "Sam has the Quinjet outside." Steve nodded and scooped you up in his arms, bridal style. You squealed, and giggled, clinging to Steve's arm. But he held you tight and carried you outside to the Quinjet.

And for the entire ride back to the Avengers Tower, Steve cradled you in his lap, running his hand through your hair. Tony smirked as you sat up with your hair in a nearly flawless french braid. You flipped him off behind Steve's back. 

A/N: Look a part two, I finally got off my lazy ass 

Surprise surprise, Steve is being heroic 

Honestly though, look at that picture I'm not the biggest Steve Rogers bitch but hot damn 

I low-key hate this???whoops

British one-shot coming in next week, ya'll get to pick who. Tom? Benedict?? Martin??? sjdfhskjdhf 

Have a better week than I'm having *finger guns* 

Stay not dead 

~Kelly~