Steve's POV

Cap was after the Winter Soldier. Well, at least, that's how Nick Fury and SHIELD had put it because, frankly, they didn't really seem to do anything but playing cat and mouse. Steve would receive a text from Sharon or Nat - mostly Nat - telling him where the Winter Soldier had been spotted. He would go there, they'd fight until one of them would decide to retreat and that would be all for the day. No winner, no loser. Plus, the Winter Soldier seemed to be following the same orders than him: going after his enemy.

Still, Steve was bleeding already. He could feel the blood dripping from his wrist and soaking his sleeve. This time, the Winter Soldier may have been up to set a bomb in Manhattan - he wasn't sure, he hadn't had time to check it yet. Steve saw him standing over the rooftop and he immediately threw his shield at him. But the Winter Soldier bent backwards and dodged it before starting to fire right after that. One of his bullets hit Steve in his left arm before he could take cover behind his shield.

Cap located the fire escape and immediately went to climb it up. They met on the roof and started fighting hand to hand. As always, the Winter Soldier seemed to have an unlimited supply of knives and guns. Steve had gotten quite tired of that. He slammed his hand on the assassin's right wrist to force him to let go of his weapon - and in retaliation he got a cut in his right shoulder from the knife in the left hand.

Steve took a few steps back to catch his breath before rushing in the battle once more. They kept fighting and wounding each other - Steve was lucky enough to throw a punch in his opponent's jaw strong enough to send him on the ground for a few seconds - until one of SHIELD's helicopters appeared in the dark sky. The Winter Soldier fled and Steve was too exhausted - once again - to go after him.

Half a hour later, Steve was already on his way home. Fury had told him that the Winter Soldier couldn't have gotten too far, that he had agents on him etc - while Sharon confirmed that the box they had been fighting around (not Steve's best idea) was indeed a bomb - but he knew they wouldn't catch him. They never did. This game had been running for a whole month now.

Steve felt drained out but his lips curved into a faint smile when he got his eyes on the door leading to his apartment. He had a spurt of energy and jumped over the few remaining steps. He stopped at the threshold however and delicately tried to manipulate the handle. The door was locked. Meaning Winter wasn't home yet. Steve let out a sigh of relief and reached for his keys.

The blonde took a step inside his home and took in the whole place with a glance. On his right, a door led to his roommate's bedroom. His own was across the living-room, on the other side. The living-room itself had a yellowish/brown couch, a coffee table - where they put the pizzas during movie nights - a huge flat-screen TV on the wall framed by two large windows that opened on a very nice Brooklyn neighborhood.

Facing the couch and the TV was the kitchen island only separated from the rest of the room by a countertop. Steve felt like going for the fridge to see if there was any fresh drinks left but decided against it when he saw the dirt and the blood he was leaving on the floor behind him. He hurried to his room and took off his stained and dirty uniform before heading for the bathroom. It was situated behind the kitchen and opened from both side. Thus they always had to be careful to lock the two doors when they wanted to use it but it was a small price to pay for a bathroom linked directly to their personal room.

Steve took a long, hot shower, allowing his body to relax completely. He also bandaged his wounds, wrapping his wrist in gauze and putting a band-aid on his shoulder. When that was done, he washed the floor, from the entry door to his room. He then took a beer out the fridge and retired to his room. He set himself comfortably on his bed and took out his sketchbook. He wanted to draw that odd building he had went by on his run this morning but his fingers seemed to be to tired too so he finally settled on his book.

He was in the middle of chapter 3 of The Fault in Our Stars - Sam told him it was a emotional book and he was starting to understand why - when he heard the entry door opening. He lifted his head thought he couldn't - yet - see through the walls. He heard Winter's footsteps going to his room. There was some agitation then he heard the vacuum.

Steve rose an eyebrow. That was odd. Well, it was Winter's turn for the cleaning indeed but it was only Friday and they usually did the cleaning on Sundays. In fact, the vacuum stopped roaring pretty fast. Winter couldn't have done more than the living-room - or the kitchen. Steve shook his head and went back to his book. His roommates must have accidentally drop something on the ground and he was cleaning up his little mess.

Shortly afterwards, the shower got turned on. Winter stayed in there for twenty-three minutes before Steve heard the distinct sound of his body slouching on the couch. That sound made him smile irrepressibly. He hesitated for a short time before he closed his book and rose up.

"Hi there!"

Winter lifted his head when Steve appeared in the living-room and let himself fall on the couch with a thunk that made the whole thing shake.

"Hi" the brunette answered - then his eyes flashed back to the TV's black screen.

After a month together, Steve knew that his roommate wasn't the talkative type. He spoke only when necessary and could spent hours just staring at nothing, his knees pressed against his chest.

Steve bit his lips.

"Are you... okay?" he asked.

This time, Winter turned his head directly at him and Steve saw that the right side of his face was all swollen and red. Without thinking, Steve raised his hand in his direction but Winter quickly backed away, scowling.

"Yeah I'm fine. What about you?" he snapped back, staring deliberately at Steve's dark eye and his other bandages. He squinted his eyes, looking more concerned. "Did something happened at your... job?"

The blonde winced.

They never talk about his job. Everyone out there in the word knew that Steve Rogers was Captain America but actually few people knew his actual face and Winter had never given the impression that he had figured out that his roommate Steve Rogers was in fact the Steve Rogers. Which was truly a good damn thing. Steve was tired of the media, of being who the people wanted him to be, to react how they were expecting him to react - and so on. It was so relieving that the brunette only saw him as the random person who happened to become his roommate - and he really wished it could stay that way.

(At the beginning, he had imagined he would change his name - he had already chosen a new one: Abraham Barack Kennedy - but he had figured he wouldn't like being called something else than Steve. For sure, he would never have made a good spy.)

"Not... exactly. Just a... fight. You know."

Winter kept staring at him for a few more seconds then he shrugged and went back to the black screen of the TV. For a moment, Steve hesitated to offer to turn it on so they could watch some mindless bullshit - but the state of his friend worried him.

"Winter... You're sure you're okay?"

He knew that the boy - who couldn't be far younger than he was (minus his seventy-or-so years under the ice obviously) - was a student. An art student, even (thought the blonde never got to watch one of his painting.) And the brunette was built quite broad. But it was true that he always wore worn-out jeans, big combat boots whose laces were almost ripped off totally and hoodies twice his size. Besides, although he took regular showers, his long brown hair always looked like a mess. No wonder if his whole pitiful appearance attracted bullies - a thought Steve simply couldn't bare.

"Listen" he said more firmly, putting his hand on the brunette's right shoulder "if there's someone beating you up-" (Thinking about it, Winter got beaten up pretty much as often as Steve got his ass kicked by the Hydra assassin he was supposed to chase and arrest. That may explain why Steve had taken so long to notice. Not great Rogers.) "-anyone at all, please tell me. I'm, er, stronger than I look and really, all I want is-"

But Winter slipped away from his grip and got back on his feet.

"I'm fine. Just stop asking."

He looked around, fidgeting with the trim of his left sleeve.

"I'm... going to prepare dinner" he announced.

Steve jumped on his feet.

"I'm helping too!"

Winter glared at him but said nothing.

They made dinner together. Steve took on him to reheat the two steaks on the pan while Winter made a salad with chopped potatoes. Steve couldn't but notice, as always, how incredibly efficient Winter was. He was so focused on his task and his hand moved with such precision that the blonde would have bet that the bits of potatoes had all the exact same size.

Steve's gaze also fell on Winter's left hand still covered with a thin black glove. Usually, he wore the gloves on both of his hands but as far as Steve knew, he never took the left one off. Not even when he was cooking.

Once, during their first week, Steve had asked him if he wasn't too hot with it - and Winter growled. One week later, when the weather got suddenly colder, he asked him if he wasn't actually too cold - as a supersoldier, Steve ran hot and didn't always remember that the people around him may not feel the same as he did about the temperature - but the brunette growled again - and more aggressively. Steve decided that it wasn't his business after all.

Dinner was ready. Winter took the salad and the meat to the coffee table, between the couch and the TV screen while Steve opened the cupboards to take out two plates, knives and forks. They turned the TV on and settled on the news. They ate in silence, listening.

"Want to play video games?" Steve asked when they had finished and the brunette had risen up again with their plates in his hands.

Winter shrugged and put the dishes in the sink. By now, Steve knew him well enough to know that him shrugging was his kind of a "yes" answer. So he put on Mortal Kombat and made sure the game pads were linked to the PlayStation. Winter came back on the couch and they started playing against each other.

Something not many people knew was that Steve, when playing video games, was no more a role model for the youth.

"Aw! Come on!" he moaned when Winter hit him with a combo. "Fucking shit, no you're not doing that to me!" he yelled when Winter threw five punches in a row. And: "Are you fucking kidding me?!" - at the pad that obviously - obviously! - didn't work as fine as Winter's did.

Steve went quiet for a bit after that, scowling. He glanced at his friend. Winter looked as focused as he had been when he was making the potato salad. The way he used his pad was highly effective too - thought Steve had had to explain to him the controls like a month ago and they hadn't played that much since then.

The match ended and, unsurprisingly, Winter was the winner. Steve glanced at him with the corner of his eyes and saw his shoulder fell as he let out a sigh. Had he been under stress all along? For a game?

"Buddy, that's really impressive" Steve told him and the brunette stared at him. "How do you do that actually? Like how are you so good?"

The boy shrugged.

"I've had a good training" he answered.

Steve looked at him confused and his confusion made Winter frowned too. He closed his eyes. And re-opened them after a whole minute.

"I mean, at playing video games."

He slouched deeper into the couch as if he hoped to disappear within it.

"You... trained at video games?" Steve asked to be sure he had understood right.

"Yeah. When you're not here."

He was avoiding his eyes now so Steve figured he should drop the subject.

"Okay. Nevermind. What should we play next? Oh I know!"

He affectionately shoved his friend in the ribs but Winter gasped with pain.

"Oh my God!" the blonde shouted instantly, "it's that bad?!"

He was already tucking at the purple hoodie to take it off.

"Please, let me see!"

But Winter didn't want to and kept kicking him and his hands while recoiling on the far side of the couch.

"No! Leggo of me!" he shrieked and his voice sounded way higher than usual.

Steve frowned and stopped.

"Winter. What's going on."

The brunette turned away and wrapped his arms around his knees tighter, completely shielding himself from the rest of the word - and for one moment Steve thought he'd never answer.

"I just fell off the stairs, okay?" he then said weakly - before his voice got more irritated. "Why are you like that? I told you I'm fine!"

Steve stared at him but Winter didn't move and only looked hurt so he sighed and rose up. He headed for his room and came back shortly afterwards with a DVD in his hand. The boy was still in the same position, curled up in the left side of the couch. The blonde was sure his roommate was hiding the truth from him but he couldn't asked for it if the brunette wasn't willing to open up to him in the first place - that would be wrong. So instead, he showed the DVD to him. A flash of interest passed in Winter's eyes when he saw the title Star Wars Battlefront II.

"Look, I picked it up at the store yesterday. Sam told me it's a really good game. Wanna try it?"

Winter finally looked up at him and slowly nodded. Steve smiled. While the blonde put the game in their PlayStation and start it, he bent to the floor and picked up the two pads they had both dropped to the floor during their argument.

"Thanks" said Steve when he handed him his pad.

The credits rolled up and the epic music spread into the room.

"Did you manage to see the movie the day they went out?" the blonde asked to lighten the mood.

The other one stared at him way too longer - and Steve started to shift uncomfortably in his seat.

"No... I was too young. And you?" Winter asked, squinting at Steve.

Oh God. Steve realized what he just said. The first Star Wars movie was out in theater some forty years ago. So of course Winter was too young to have even been born at that time. They were both supposed to be too young.

"Well, er, yeah me too. Obviously. No, I meant, you know. The recent ones."

He didn't even know what "recent ones" he was talking about. He knew there was one trilogy shooting at the moment - or so he thought he knew - but actually, on one of their first movie nights, Steve had tricked Winter into seeing Star Wars VI, pretending that he liked this one in particular and wanted to see it again - when, in fact, he hadn't seen it yet at all.

Winter seemed to have to think about it, too.

"No" he said finally. After a few seconds, he added like he felt he needed to justify it: "I don't often go to the cinema."

"Yeah, me neither."

The truth was, Steve loved going to the theater, back in the 40s. When they were kids, he and Bucky used to sneak into the cinema because they could never have afforded that many movie tickets. Sometimes, however, Bucky would buy one for himself alone or for him and Steve, just so the staff wouldn't suspect a thing. Later, Steve got to see movies way more often because of his whole being Captain America stuff. But nowadays, he just didn't feel like going there anymore. He'd go to see movies when Sam or Natasha - or even Sharon - suggested it, but he never went there alone. Alone just felt wrong.

"Anyway, it's fully loaded now. Let's play. Hey, look, we can be in the same team!"

He glanced at his roommate. Winter pressed his lips together.

"Okay."

Steve tried to hide his smile. He didn't understand why - it was only a game after all - but he knew he would have felt sad if Winter had refused to play with him.

"Let's go partner. For the Republic!"

"For the Republic!" echoed Winter and he suddenly sounded enthusiastic.

As it turned out, Winter was a terrific partner.

Steve being Steve goddamn Rogers, he just couldn't help but jump right under the enemy fire. The blonde didn't care how many times he died. It was just too much fun to run straight into the enemies and aim for their flag and basically shoot around randomly without knowing if he would even be able to touch the flag before he would lie dead on the ground. His skills (and instincts of self-preservation) weren't any better when the game would propose him to play a Jedi. Usually, he'd last two minutes before he got killed again.

Yet, it was clear that his deaths count would have been twice higher if it wouldn't have been for Winter. Winter had his back. Always. Steve offered him to play the Jedi every time they could but the brunette refuse each time. He preferred to play a sniper, whether he put his character on a strategic location or he followed Steve with a paltry gun (even then he got to kill more droids than Steve).

He was playing very seriously again - and Steve wondered if he was actually having fun.

Unlike the other game, Winter was muttering all the time and Steve caught him swearing in Russian and saying things like "please, no, we're outnumbered" or "Rogers, please, you've got five at your six, I just can't".

They played far into the night and when Steve finally announced that he was going to stop there, the brunette let out a grim "gosh, that was so exhausting" that made Steve blush.

"What did you say?" he asked him.

He was going to hate himself if his friend hadn't enjoyed their evening at all.

The brunette turned to him.

"Nothing. You're going to bed?"

Steve rose and proceeded to turn off both the Play and the TV.

"Yes. I got work tomorrow." (A meeting with Fury which, he recognized in plain honesty, would totally require of him some solid hours of sleep.) "Goodnight, Winter. Take care."

Winter's eyes widened.

"You too!"

For one second, Steve got stunned because Winter sounded painful and so terrified. But then the brunette shook his head and his whole face looked dull again. Surely, it was the exhaustion - and probably the beating (Steve was definitely not buying that fell-off-the-stairs story).

"Yeah, well. Don't worry. See you tomorrow."

Steve went into the bathroom one last time to change his bandages - really, the Winter Soldier wasn't one to underestimate because it looked like that wound on his shoulder would take more than a day to heal which meant something given his super-healing ability.

Nevermind, Steve thought for himself, he would eventually arrest that Hydra assassin. And though he had originally moved in Brooklyn because the Winter Soldier appeared to be acting from there, Captain America wouldn't mind staying here after the mission ended.

He had grown quite fond of his roommate.