After spending too much time deciding what clothes would make me look least gross and even longer trying to get my hair to not look stupid with only one good hand, I finally made it to breakfast. Which was amazing. Scones were involved. Scones. Steve really is the perfect man.

What can I say? I have a thing for baked goods.

Insert a creepy joke here on how an adorable pre-serum Steve baked in Dr. Erskine's and Howard Stark's science oven and then *ding* he popped out as a delectable man muffin.

...And I get creepy when I'm nervous.

Huh.

Anyway.

While he washes the dishes and I dry (he knows how to work a dishwasher but he says he 'enjoys' washing them by hand. Probably got hit one too many times in the head. Poor guy.) I try to work up the courage to start the conversation that I would rather bury in the deep, dark recesses of a top secret SHIELD base where it'd never be found. I'm going to give myself an ulcer – that is, if I don't barf up my internal organs first. The odds are currently fifty-fifty either way.

Steve's wiping down the counter, finished, and I'm still quivering in my lion suit. So I blurt, "Hey, can I talk to you about something important? Well, I think it's important. It's important to me, at least. It might be important to you too. I don't know. Guess we'll find out. I mean, we'll find out if we talk about it. We'll get nowhere at this rate."

Steve eyes me strangely. "Sure. What's up?"

I glance nervously around the kitchen. "Not here. Could we go to my room?"

His eyes widen in surprise.

"Because there aren't any cameras there and this is not something I want Tony pulling up on his big screen later with a tub of popcorn," I hastily explain.

"All right," he agrees hesitantly as he dries his hands.

We make our way to my room under a fog of awkward silence.

He closes the door behind us, looking uncomfortable to do so. "What'd you want to talk about?"

I clear my throat. "First, please sit down." I gesture to the chair beside the desk and he complies. "Second, it's going to be difficult enough to say all this because I'm a spaz, so please don't interrupt. You can freak out or say whatever you need to at the end and it'll be totally justified, just please let me get it all out first because if I don't do it now I never will and then James will tell you and I won't be able to speak to either of you ever again and I'll be sad and it would just be the worst."

Steve looks very concerned and almost nervous as to what I have to say, but he nods anyway.

"Okay, so," I clear my throat again and adjust my wheelchair to face him straight on, trying to swallow down my nausea. "Well," I give a small, uneasy smile before sighing. Pretty sure I was less nervous around my buddy Bill.

You know, I've never really appreciated the anxious, emotional trauma that Darcy went through when he first confessed his feelings to Elizabeth. This bites. Good for you, Mr. Darcy, for your valiant disaster of a proposal.

"Oh screw it," I mutter, staring at his shins. "Steve, I like you. No, that's a bit of a lie. Sorry, I'm still new at this. I've been sort of lying to you for a while now, almost two years, actually. When I first met you, I thought I had a crush on you because you're stupidly handsome and your personality is just as attractive. Then I thought maybe I just had a crush on you because you're Captain America and, come on, who doesn't have a crush on Captain America? But, the better I got to know you and the less that I lied to myself, I realized that I didn't- that I don't have a crush on you or even the idea of you. I-" I look up to meet his wide blue eyes. "I love you, Steve. I have loved you for so long, and not just as a friend. I don't expect you to reciprocate my feelings – you had a girlfriend after all, never mind the fact that you're a real, live superhero. I also don't want you to feel like you owe me your love just because I love you. I love you." I smile. "It feels so good to say that to you out loud. You should also know that even if you don't love me back the same way, I still want to be your friend– if that wouldn't be too weird for you –and I'll still love you this way. I don't think I could stop myself. I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you and I'm sorry if my keeping this from you makes you upset, but you deserve to know the truth."

Steve remains still; his only movement is his steady breathing.

My smile slips a little. "Well, that's what I needed to tell you. I'm done now so you can politely brush me off or run away or whatever you need to do." I say, thinking he's unsure if he's released from his promise to not do anything.

Still nothing.

I've completely stuffed this up, haven't I?

Steve hesitantly opens his mouth to say something, but stops himself.

'Yup. Definitely unfriending me.'

My face burns and my eyes smart as I quickly look away. Of course I can't love him any less for not wanting to be my friend after my confession– this was essentially what I was expecting –but that doesn't mean that losing him won't be completely crushing. I hear him shuffle slightly in his seat, but he still doesn't say anything. I blink rapidly and look up to the ceiling to keep some tears from falling. "Well, that's pretty much an answer. You should get going. I, I wouldn't want to keep you from whatever world-saving stuff you need to be doing today."

I direct the little joystick on the arm of my wheelchair so I can put some space between us. It makes a tired whir before clicking off.

Great. I literally cannot get away.

My jaw clenches in frustrated mortification. "W-would you mind, before you leave, bringing my old wheelchair over?" I ask without looking at Steve. "It's by the closet."

Of course he kindly retrieves it and sets it beside me, locking the wheels.

"Do you want some help moving over?" he asks softly.

I sit in silence for a moment. I'd probably tear some stitches if I try to move by myself, but what a painful blow to my ego. Could this be any more embarrassing? Maybe I'll retire to that abbey Maria came from in 'The Sound of Music'. I'm pretty sure they were all for ladies staying single. I should fit right in.

I exhale slowly. "Yes please," I finally answer meekly.

He moves to pick me up bridal style again, and I immediately react. "No," I say a little too sharply. "I- please, just help me stand." No way could I take being held by him right now.

Steve looks reprimanded but he leans down so I can put an arm around his shoulders and he wraps an arm gently around my waist. He slowly and carefully draws me upright. I haven't tried standing up since being admitted to the hospital, but I don't exactly care about that at the moment. I'm just desperate to get away.

My legs are burning from the strain, but I ignore them and focus on moving to my old chair. But instead of passing me over, Steve draws me closer to his chest and takes my weight off of my legs. He holds me there for a moment and I can't bring myself to look him in the eyes. Not yet.

As embarrassed as I am being around him right now, the familiar smell of his aftershave and the steady rise and fall of his chest is still as comforting as ever.

"You caught me by surprise, you know; beat me to the punch. Doesn't happen that often anymore," I hear him finally say softly.

Confused, I hesitantly drag my eyes up to his. A small smile blooms across his mouth.

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A/N: So I asked myself, "Self, where's the most frustrating place to put a chapter break?" and that was my answer.

*Continues the rest of the author's note from behind Cap's shield*

So, other than where it ends, what do you think? I seem to find the serious, emotional bits to be harder for me to write. Did it seem true to character or was it not so great? And remember, this is for posterity, so be honest.

I really don't like this chapter at all (I almost hate it, but that distinction is reserved for an upcoming chapter). The title pretty much sums up how I feel about it, so I won't blame you if you feel the same way, but I'm not sure how I could've made it better. I don't know. Maybe I just don't "do" the gooey emotions. Bleh. The more I read it the more I dislike it.

Anyway, the gif is sort of how I imagine all of you wilting in your disappointment upon reading this chapter. Mr. Downey is probably the best part of this post.

Side note to show what a dork I am on top of being an incompetent writer: I'm growing out my bangs (or 'fringe', whatever) and every time it falls into my eyes my first thought is always, "I feel like the Winter Soldier".

So. Yeah.

This why I have no friends.