So, I've got another angst-y one for you all, which I hope you enjoy! I like to think of this as a prequel to the upcoming 'Would It Matter?' story I have not written yet, but it can be a stand alone if you want. It's up to you! :) And also, this is probably the lamest title I have ever done...I don't know, I might end up changing it.
Disclaimer: I do not own this, unfortunately...
Steve sighs as he heads toward the kitchen on the main living area of the Tower while the sun is rising. It was another sleepless night; just like usual. But he's not going to tell the others that.
Of course not.
He couldn't afford to show them that weakness. So, he gets the coffee ready, because before long Clint and Natasha will be coming in, followed by Bruce.
And then Thor will come in around fifteen minutes later, looking for the dark liquid, while another twenty minutes later a rather groggy Tony will come in.
Steve knows this, so he always make sure he has it ready for them.
And on the frequent nights where Tony has locked himself in his lab for several days and nights, Steve makes sure he leaves the pot full during the night, in case he ever leaves the room.
Which he does do on occasion, just when nobody else is around.
Once the coffee is ready for them, Steve heads back down to the gym, his second time for the night, or morning now, and tries to deliver his inner turmoil out on the punching bag. But only it can take just a fraction of his burdens as it flies off it's handle and lands with a loud thud.
So Steve grabs another one.
And another one.
And soon there's another whole heap of punching bags laying on the floor that he's going to have to clean up and pay S.H.I.E.L.D for. By now he knows that the others, including Thor and Tony, will be up and finished with the breakfast he had prepared for them also, but had decided to just skip for himself.
Sure, his enhanced metabolism needed the food to keep going, but he just couldn't really find it in him to eat. Once he's done cleaning up the mess of punching bags, he hears footsteps echoing down the hall and knows that it's time for his sparring partners to arrive.
Natasha, Clint and Thor all come walking in conversing, Natasha laughing at something Clint had just said. Even Thor chuckles, and somehow even the god manages to look like he fits into this little group of heroes.
Steve removes the wistful look on his face, and puts on the Captain America mask he was so used to wearing and greeted them with asking how they slept.
Several quiet replies came from the group as Natasha headed for the new punching bags that were up and Clint headed for the treadmills. Thor walked right over to Steve, not having to warm up in order to spar, and they both went into the sparring ring.
Thor starts the sparring match, and it's a pretty fair and even fight. But suddenly a flash of color crosses Steve's vision. He makes the mistake of hesitating, and it nearly costs him his footing as Thor takes it to his advantage with a left jab to his side.
He shakes it off and returns the punch, and things start going back to normal. But suddenly, the colors flood his vision, and instead of the sweating demi-god in front of, he suddenly sees Peggy, and her dark brown hair and red lipstick standing in front of him.
Bucky's there, too, laughing and talking with the other Howling Commandoes. Confused by this suddenly different landscape around him, he stops, and that's all it takes for Thor to knock him off his feet.
Steve lands on his back with a hard thud, and it takes that to knock him out of that steely cold trap in his mind. He hears Thor's loud booming voice echo around him as he blearily sees a hand outstretched towards him, and he suddenly thinks of Bucky again.
His cold, metal fingers reaching for him in the water, and how Steve had missed Bucky's hand by just barely an inch that day on the train and how Bucky had fallen and turned into the Winter Soldier.
Steve shook off that thought as he took Thor's hand and pulled himself up. He blinked a couple of times, and Peggy's face slowly vanished before him and Thor's, confused and even a bit worried, face appeared in her place.
"Captain, are you okay?" He asks, and Steve nods with a fake smile.
"Yeah...I'm fine. Congratulations," He said and Thor beamed at the victory against him. Suddenly a voice from the other side of the room broke through the haze Steve was still in.
"Man, is the old age starting to catch up with you, Cap?" Clint asked as he got off the treadmills. Steve forced out a laugh and shook his head.
"Why don't you get up here and we'll just see how much it affects it?" Steve jokes back, and Clint makes his way up there with a smirk.
Steve bites back a sigh and begins the sparring match again. Steve knew what moves Clint was going to do, so he easily avoided them all while adding in some moves if his own.
Natasha was up next, and Steve had to admit that going up against her was a little bit harder than Clint or even Thor. Because she was quick, silent, and agile.
And after their match was over, they all headed upstairs to shower. And once Natasha, Clint, and Thor were all out, that meant it was Steve's turn. The shower was cold, but Steve didn't mind.
The bite and sting of ice water kept him alert, and it kept him from dwelling on the fact that exactly three years ago today, was the 'death' of his best friend, no, brother. Even though it brought him back to the frigid conditions of that day and also of the day he crashed that plane.
When he gets out, he dries off and heads toward his room where he changes into some clean clothes. He opens the drawer to take out a shirt, when he sees it lying there. It's silver and shiny glint catching his eyes.
He hesitates only for a moment, debating on if he really should or not, before he quickly grabs the blade and slowly slices open the skin on his wrist; relishing in the pain that forms there.
Even though he can just barely feel it over the numbness that has settled in his bones.
He closes his eyes as memories try to overwhelm him. Like the headlines from just two weeks ago. Millions of people had placed the blame on the Leader of the Avengers for the loss of over a half a dozen innocent U.S. lives on the East Coast.
To which he had openly accepted the blame in front of thousands of people at a press conference. He still remembered how one wrong decision had cost those people their lives.
All because he had been foolish enough to make Iron Man go and get Hawkeye from a building.
But that's where the catch was; the building was burning. And only Tony's suit could handle the heat, and Steve knew that Clint wouldn't last long in there. Steve had been across the state at the time, so he had witnessed the death of all seven innocents.
He had done his best to get out as many people as possible, but even he wasn't capable of saving them all. Tony had really chewed him out after that day.
Steve's jaw clenched and his fingers twitched as he brought the blade down deeper against his wrist.
He slashed it several more times, hoping to erase the pain settled in him, but nothing dislodged it. He sighed as he watched the blood run off his arm and the wounds start healing again.
Once they were almost all healed, he rinsed his wrist off under the sink and headed towards the elevator. Bruce had already ordered the takeout, which meant it would be here soon.
And even though Steve didn't want anything, he knew he had to eat since he had already excused himself from the last night's supper, and he didn't want to cause any suspicion.
"Sir, the elevator has stopped." J.A.R.V.I.S informed him, snapping him out of his thoughts and he nodded.
"Thanks, J.A.R.V.I.S." He said before heading out into living room where everyone was already eating.
"You're late, Cap." Tony said around a mouth full of noodles. Steve tried to hide the wince that crossed his face by looking into the kitchen. Those words bothered him a little more than he would like to admit.
"Sorry," He said as he headed over towards the kitchen, stomach suddenly feeling sick at the smell of food.
He put very little on his paper plate, before heading over to the other side of the living room where nobody could really see how much food he had, and he put on a fake smile as everyone around him laughed at something Tony had said.
And after this, Tony would go down to the lab with Bruce, Clint would leave to go some archery place a few miles away, Natasha would retreat to her room, Thor would go and visit with Jane, and Steve would either go down to the gym, his room, or go for a ride on his motorcycle.
That's what always happened.
Steve knew that. He knew the routine. So that meant he knew exactly how to act during these situations. The meal was soon finished, and everyone went their separate ways; exactly like Steve had thought.
Once Steve was down in the gym, he began punching, and punching, and punching until his knuckles bled. But even that didn't stop him. He heard and felt some of his knuckles break, but he did he care?
No.
They would heal, so why bother? He enjoyed the pain. So he kept on delivering his fury to the helpless bag even though his knuckles were bleeding onto the floor and staining the punching bag a crimson red.
He'd be down here until supper, when he'd be forced to come out and eat, but then he'd return and continue. His hands would be healed by then, and if they weren't, he'd make up some excuse.
This was his routine every day. And for a moment he stopped, and smiled to himself at how his life was, is, and probably always would be. Because Captain America took Steve Rogers place. At least before, when he was scrawny and sickly, he had Bucky.
And Bucky knew him.
He knew when he was lying, when he was hurt, physically or emotionally, and most importantly, he understood him.
The world knew Captain America, but Bucky knew the poor, asthmatic kid behind the mask. And Steve knows that Bucky was the only one.
Steve also knows that this new world and new team isn't so bad, but he can't help but compare the Avengers to the Howling Commandoes. And yes, that wasn't fair, but he still did it.
At least the Howling Commandoes tried to get to know him. Steve sighed as he delivered another ruthless punch to the bag, causing it to break off the handle and fly across the room.
Standing there, panting and bleeding from the knuckles, Steve still managed to smile to himself about knowing one thing. The Avengers thought they knew Steve.
But Steve knows they don't.
Was it any good? I'd love to know, so please share your thoughts! :)