A/N: Here's my (second) submission for Kari's 1K MCU Writing Challenge. Thank you until-theend-oftheline for letting me participate!

This story would not be what it is without my starshine, mermaidxatxheart . Thank you for putting up with my crazy behind. You're the bomb diggity.

P.S. Feedback is always welcomed and sincerely appreciated! (I don't bite)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Humor, Swearing (quite a bit), People are Shot, Descriptions of the aftermath (nothing too graphic) and a potentially happy ending.

PROMPT: "Eat me! Oh no wait… you actually might!"!"

It was supposed to be easy.

In and out, Bucky had said. Grab the asset, he has decent protection, but nothing you and Steve can't handle, nothing you haven't handled in the past. He's a scientist, he knows things, things on how to help Bucky.

"I would go myself, but…"

"Your egg is cracked," you surmise, looking up from the information packet he had given you, giving him a grin.

He stares at you for a full second before he breaks out into laughter and gives you a chuck under the chin. "I think scrambled is a more apt description." He grins. "You got this, Kamryn," he says confidently.

"Oh, I know. I'm perfect. I just wish it didn't have to be with Mr. Perfect over there." You jerk your chin in the direction of Steve before you glare resentfully at him.

Bucky notices the hostile stare. "He means well." he tries, looking over to where his best friend is looking over new weapons with Natasha, debating on which would be most beneficial for his upcoming mission. "He just wants to make sure you're protected. He's…protective like that."

"Yeah, I'm sure he'd be thrilled the moment I protect myself right off a fucking cliff."

Bucky snorts at your joke. "Maybe. Who knows what goes on in his head?" He shrugs one massive shoulder.

I do, and it has nothing to do with protecting myself and everything to do with the fact that we broke up violently

This is the exact opposite of easy.

The fucking scientist heard you were fucking coming and upped his guard count. Instead of the average twenty 'roid heads, he has at least a hundred. And while both you and Captain America are very good, the two of you alone are not nearly that good.

Unfortunately, you had to retreat.

Steve hisses as he presses a hand to his leg. A stupid ricochet bullet had lodged itself in his leg ten minutes ago and if you don't get it cleaned out, it's going to be bad.

"In here." He mutters, nudging you to an abandoned building.

You help him inside, your momentary dislike for each other forgotten. "If I ever see Bucky again, I'm going to rip his metal fucking arm off and shove it so far up his ass, he'll be able to scratch his brain." You huff. "You weigh a ton."

"You never used to complain." He tries for joking.

You shoot him a withering look before shoving him roughly into the room. Quickly taking in your surroundings, you conclude that this will have to do. Everything is covered in dust and cobwebs, but with a limited amount of time to get the bullet out before he heals over it, you don't have much of a choice.

You set Steve down into an old wooden chair that creaks under his weight. For a moment, you're worried that it's going to give away underneath his muscular ass, but is pleased when it seems to settle.

"This is going to hurt," you warn, easing the fabric away from the bullet wound.

Steve manages to snort. "Try not to enjoy it too much."

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you dig your finger into the open injury, digging around to the bullet. To Steve's credit, he doesn't so much as make a sound. But a quick look at his face and you see his eyes are squeezed shut, head is thrown back and jaw clenched tight. Not wanting to get distracted by how beautiful the jerk is, you make quick work of pulling the bullet from his leg.

"There, all done."

He looks down at you and you can still see the pain behind his eyes. "Thanks."

Not having time to appreciate his rare kind side, you stand up, wiping the blood off on your pants. "Yeah, well, can you get up? We need to get out of here soon if we want to make it out alive."

"I'm good."

"Good."

It was almost too easy.

You two make your way around the house, hugging close to the outside walls. Peaking your head out, you check to see if there's anyone around standing between you and the underground tunnel that will lead you home.

"We're clear," you decide, flicking a quick glance at Steve to make sure he's ready.

He gives you a nod, "Proceed."

Taking off, you try to stick to the shadows, heading for the entrance.

You both manage to make it in without being caught and you feel just a tiny bit of stress lift off your shoulders.

Steve doesn't hesitate to keep walking and you follow him into poorly lit, smelly ass tunnel.

"Smells like someone died down here," you comment in a casual tone, not liking the silence.

He turns to give you a glare but before he can respond, there is a shout that comes from behind you.

"HALT."

"Halt?" you question, face screwing up in confusion. "Who the fuck says halt?"

Steve just shakes his head at you before bounding over to the man that followed you into the tunnel. You assess the scene to see if there are others and you're surprised to find that the man is alone in his adventures.

The man pulls out a gun and before you could react, Steve grabs his wrist and there's a loud "pop" that echoes off the walls and you find yourself hitting the wall behind you.

Your pulse is thumping loudly in your ears. You can feel your heart fluttering heavily in your chest. Your thoughts feel sluggish as you try to process what just happened.

You look down the front of your shirt and you search for what can be making you feel so slow. You spot red seeping out from your side and you know you're screwed, muttering an "Oh shit," under your breath between clenched teeth.

"This puts a fucking damper on my day. Steve?" you call for the Captain. He's currently fighting hand to handing with the jackass who had shot you. "I really need your help."

"I'm a little fucking busy," you hear him hiss out, grunting as he thrust his shield at the head of the asshole who thought he could hold his own against the Captain America.

You roll your eyes, letting out an exasperated huff before putting more force behind your voice. "There is a problem! So get your spangly ass back here!"

Steve Rogers hates being referenced as anything spangly and knows you're serious when you call to him like that. He risks a look over his shoulder to see what could possibly be so important. You can see the surprise in his eyes when he sees you sag heavily against the wall, both hands covering your side, oozing blood. Feeling a surge of energy, he sends a powerful uppercut hit to the man in front of him, knocking him out cold. With a quick move, Steve cuffs the man's hands and feet together, ensuring that he would be temporarily incapacitated, making time for him and Kamryn to get away.

"If you're done playing handsy with that douche, I could really use your help," you call out to him, tensing your entire body, trying to find relief from the pain that starts to blossom from the wound.

Steve is already heading back to where you are. "Now's not the best time to be taking a break, Kamryn," he says in a rough voice, schooling a hard expression covering his face.

"Because I just love hanging out on the floor that's covered in literal shit," you shoot back sarcastically. "How about you stop with the condescending and unnecessary comments for once and tell me how bad this looks."

Removing your hand from the wound, Steve crouches down in front of you to get a better look. You know it has to have been bad based on how his expression softens to a look of concern. He prods gently at it, causing more blood to ooze out. If he notices your flinch, he doesn't say anything. Placing a hand on the back of your shoulder to guide you forward, he checks to see if there's an exit wound.

From the sigh of relief, you know that it's a through and through. That means he isn't going to have to dig out a bullet. It also means that he's going to have to find a way to pack the wound to stop further bleeding until you can get back to the compound to make sure there isn't any damage to anything important.

Steve reaches into a pocket on his pants and pulls out a pack that contained fine white powder. Keeping a hand on your shoulder to hold you against the wall, he rips the packet open with his teeth and without warning, pours the white powder directly on your wound.

"That FUCKING HURTS," you howl, trying to squirm away from the offending powder. Logically, you know that this shit is helping to stop bleeding temporarily, expanding on contact with the blood to fill the wound. But GOD DAMN if it doesn't hurt like a bitch.

Steve growls at you and presses more firmly to hold you still, trying to give the powder a chance to do its job. "Well, maybe if you would stop squirming around like a toddler and let the powder do its fucking job, it would be over sooner and won't hurt any longer."

You want to bang your head into the ground to knock yourself out to avoid being lectured from Captain fucking America but quickly decide against that as you don't want to cause more trauma to your body and give Steve the satisfaction of not being able to handle yourself properly. "Fucking thanks, Dad," you sneer out instead. Your hand shoots out to grip his shoulder, fingers digging into the thick material as you squeeze as hard as you can. The pain is unbearable and you want nothing more than to scream like a banshee, but given the circumstances, you have to look for alternative ways to relieve the tension. It feels like your side is on fire, shots of pain radiating out from the wound. The powder feels like salt and pop rocks have been poured on an open injury as it fizzles around, filling in the gaps. How is it that this hurt more than the bullet actually fucking going through your side? What the fuck is this shit?

The soldier winces at your comment. He knows that you hate it when he lectures you, but he also knows it's better that way. He pokes around the wound once more to see if it's fully packed, not wanting to make eye contact. "You should be able to just walk it off. It's not that serious." He freezes, knowing once the words pass through his lips that you're going to get heated, but there's no taking them back now.

Your face flushes red and you feel a white heat run up your spine, snapping "Not all of us can fucking walk off a fucking bullet wound Mr. I-heal-in-two-shakes-of-a-leg." Goddamn super soldiers and their stupid ability to heal instantaneously. Obviously, this dickhead motherfucker takes that gift for granted. Ungrateful asswipe cockmuppet.

"Maybe if you were more mentally-disciplined-"

You cut Steve off by shoving him away. He falls straight on his ass and gives you a look of surprise. Not giving him a chance to speak, you struggle to stand up, using the wall as leverage and wag a finger at him. "Are you for real? Are you seriously going to tell me that my fucking bullet wound isn't debilitating? That some 'woo-saa's' and 'namaste's' are going to make this hurt any less? Are you fucking serious?" You can't believe the words that are coming out of this asshole's mouth. Suddenly, awkwardly, you feel yourself longing for the time when you two could actually have a conversation without getting on each other's nerves.

"I got a bullet in my leg and you don't see me complaining."

"EAT ME!" you yell, pulling at your hair in frustration. Realizing what you just say, you stop and give a thoughtful look, cocking your head to the side. "Oh no, wait…you actually MIGHT." Or at least, you wish he would. With an angry sigh, you gesture sharply to his leg where he had taken a bullet, but the skin's already healed over, leaving a nasty looking bruise in its place. "Are you talking about the wound that's already completely healed? Did you miss the part where I said that not all of -"

You're cut off by Steve surging forward, his lips forcefully meeting yours in a clash of skin and teeth. Your lips move together in an achingly familiar way. It's forceful and full of anger and tension…it's beautiful.

Then the realization of who you're kissing hits you like a freight train and you pull back with a gasp. The next thing you do was pure instinct.

You punch Steve Rogers right in his perfect teeth.

The punch is perfectly executed. But the force behind it causes you to pull powder that had solidified in your injury, making you gasp out in pain, knees buckling underneath you as you fall to the ground once again.

Glancing at Steve, you notice that you managed to split his lip, but otherwise seems fine.

He's holding his jaw in his hand, moving it back and forth with a dazed expression. He can't believe that you just hit him.

The pain catches up to you and you feel the adrenaline rush through your heart. "WHY DID YOU DO THAT?" you scream, clutching your throbbing hand to your chest. So much for not inflicting any more trauma to your body.

Steve looks surprised. "WHY DID YOU PUNCH ME?" he yells back. Then his gaze falls to your hand that you're nursing and his gaze falls into one of panic. "Holy shit, where did you learn to punch like that?"

You, you asshole, you think bitterly to yourself, but otherwise, ignore his question. "Why the fuck you would think that now was the time to fucking lay one on me?" You cry out in a hysterical voice, trying to come down from the adrenaline high. If there was any doubt before, you're now positive that Steve Rogers had a loose bolt or two in his head.

Steve takes the silent route, choosing not to answer. It would just complicate things.

You give him a hard glare, realizing that he's going to ignore your question. Letting out a huff, you hold your arms out to him. "Well, I certainly won't be walking out of here. Guess you get to carry me, you lucky duck."

This mission had been anything but easy.

Steve feels like he has impossibly aged fifty years.

Kamryn and he manage to make it back to the compound, but as soon as the jet lands, she passes out and is rushed into emergency surgery.

Five hours of waiting and finally someone comes out to give an update.

The whole team is gathered, anxious to see what the outcome of the surgery would be.

"She has a perforated bowel," the medical professional says in an even, detached tone. "We had to clear out the binder that was placed. Once that was clear, the tear in the bowel expanded and toxins entered the body causing her to go into septic shock. It has been touch and go. We managed to get her stable and repair the tear. However, we placed her in a medically induced coma to give her mind and body time to recover without outside stressors. The next 24 hours will be critical for her. If she makes it past the next 24 hours, she will have a considerably greater chance of making a full recovery."

The silence in the room is heavy as everyone absorbs the information.

Thor steps forward, glancing at Steve to see what his reaction is. Thor knows that there's a lot of tension between Kamryn and the Captain, but he also knows that the Captain cares deeply for those he calls his own. Although, he's a little surprised to see how crushed the Captain looks at the news. He looks as if his whole world has begun to shatter and Thor sympathizes with that. There's obviously more going on that he's not aware of. Shuffling towards his friend, he places a heavy hand on his shoulder in an offer of support before addressing the medical personnel.

"Are we able to visit with Lady Kamryn?"

Watching her was not easy.

Only two people at a time are allowed to visit with the unconscious Avenger. Tony and Natasha are the first to go in, not even asking if anyone wants to visit first. This is their friend, their family.

Two by two, everyone filters in and out of the small room.

Steve is the last one to enter and he can feel his stomach drop when his eyes land on your body. You're laying in the small hospital bed covered in tubes and wires. Your usually tan complexion now matches that of the white sheet that covers your body. He can hear the hiss of the ventilator as he watches the machine force air in and out of your lungs. There's a steady beeping coming from the screen on your right that's monitoring your heart rate and oxygen stats. You're covered in bruises. Not that that's anything new. Anytime anyone comes back from a mission, they're likely to be covered in black and blue. But this time, it makes your situation look worse.

Steve feels like an asshole for the words that were exchanged between the two of you when you were down in the sewers. He feels lower than dirt for having implied that you should have just been able to walk this off. Sure, he didn't mean the words he said, but that doesn't make the guilt any less.

He takes a seat by your side. He wants nothing more than to reach out and take your hand in his, but he knows that if you were awake, you wouldn't appreciate it and would likely punch him again. Instead, he just hangs his head in shame, shoulders slumped.

"I can see that you're beating yourself up over this."

Steve slowly looks up from the floor to see his best friend standing in the doorway looking particularly unimpressed.

Bucky is standing in a defensive position, feet shoulder length apart, arms crossed against his chest and a deep scowl on his face. He looks ready to disembowel someone.

"Had I been more aware of our surroundings, I would have known the guy was there-"

"Stop," Bucky says, stepping into the room and taking a seat opposite of Steve at Kamryn's side. "I don't want to hear that BS. I think it's time you admit what's really going on here."

Steve gives his friend a confused look, pretending to not have any idea what he's talking about.

Bucky scoffs, rolling his eyes and leans back in his seat, giving Steve a mildly amused look. "I honestly don't know who's the bigger idiot in this room. You or Kamryn." He pauses for a moment, rubbing his flesh hand over his jaw, a thoughtful look on his face. "You're stupid for thinking that I of all people wouldn't know what was going on between the two of you. Obviously, you were head over heels for each other. She's just as stupid because she can't see how head-over-heels in love you are with her…that, and she thinks you're just an average idiot instead of a super idiot."

This revelation floors Steve. He can feel all the blood rush from his face as he looks at his friend in horror. Had they really been that obvious? They had been so careful. "How.." he trembles out, letting the word trail off as he thinks back on all their interactions with the team, trying to think of any instance that would have given them away.

The Winter Soldier snorts, amused by Steve's terror. "You might think you're so slick, but I've known you since we were tots. I know when you're smitten. Honestly, I'm a little insulted that you didn't come and tell me. I think you two are great together." He pauses, face darkening at another thought. "That was until you went and mucked things up. Seriously, you break up with her because you received a threatening letter? Honestly to God, Steve. And then you go to Sharon for help? No, not your best friend who is quite frankly better equipped to handle a situation like this. Not only that, but you insulted Kamryn by implying that she wasn't able to handle some sleazebag? She's a lot tougher than you think. You don't have to protect everyone."

Steve remains silent, taking in everything that Bucky is saying. It isn't anything that he doesn't already know. But it does make him seem stupid when spoken aloud.

"You care for her," Bucky states in a matter-of-fact tone. "I hope that you use this opportunity as a wake-up call. You need to think about whether or not you really want a life without her next to you."

Steve chooses to ignore his last comment and goes back further in the conversation. "How did you know about the letter? I destroyed it as soon as I got it."

"I have my ways," he answers cryptically. Steve gives him an unamused look and Bucky releases an overdramatic sigh in return. "I keep tabs on what threats are coming in against my family."

It still doesn't explain how he knows, but Steve realizes that's the only explanation that he's going to get.

"It was still relatively new," Steve says after a moment of silence, feeling the need to give some sort of explanation. "We both agreed to give our relationship a try for some amount of time before opening up to the team. It was fun, sneaking around. Added a sense of danger that was appealing."

"You're a kinky mo-fo, aren't you?" Bucky comments.

Steve scoffs, trying to ignore the blush that's darkening his cheeks. "And you've been hanging out with Peter again."

Bucky gives a non-committed shrug. "Was she aware of the threat or did you just push her away?"

This question forces a cringe from Steve and he rubs the back of his neck nervously. "She overheard me on the phone with Sharon and accused me of not being over her. She didn't want to be second best to a Carter she said."

"You're an ass."

Steve nods in agreement, eyes flicking to where Kamryn is still sleeping in the hospital bed. She hasn't moved, which is expected. "Her anger at the situation fueled my idea that becoming a grouchy jackass would push her away and make it easier for her to despise me. She has zero tolerance for assholes." He can feel his lips curve up in a fond smile, remembering how she told him about her tolerance 'issues'.

"Well, you two sure to play the role of spiteful ex's incredibly well," Bucky notes in an unimpressed tone. "Maybe it's time you get over yourselves and realize that you work better together. Plus, your guys kids would be models." His phone beeps at him and he reaches into his pants pocket, pulling it out. "I got to go. Tony wants to video chat with Shuri to see if she has any ideas on how to prevent my brain from melting out of my ears." He stands up from his chair, brushing the invisible dirt off his hands. Walking away, he pauses at the door and gave Steve an amused look.

"By the way, I took care of the threat."

Could it be so easy?

Steve stays by your side, debating the pros and cons of what telling you the truth would be and what the outcome could be.

People come and go, but he remains steadfast in his vigil.

He sits there, watching you for any sign of distress.

Any sign of recovery.

He prayed to a God that he hasn't prayed to in ages.

Not since he woke up from being frozen alive.

Not since aliens came from the sky.

But now he prays.

He prays that you would make it out of this. He prays for a chance to have a life with you. He prays for the endless futures for the two or you.

He makes his decision.

Waking up had never been so hard.

When you come to, you're vaguely aware that this is the medical bay. You can faintly see the stark white light behind the tiny blood vessels in your eyelids. You can hear the steady beeping of a heart monitor. A swallow is stopped by the hard plastic of the tube down your throat.

Holy shit. How bad off are you?

The last thing you remembered was entering the underground tunnel with Steve after a failed mission.

Holy fuck! You were fucking shot!

Your eyes shoot open and you immediately start coughing on the tube that's down your throat. You can hear the heart monitor beeping considerably faster. You try clawing at the tube, but strong hands pin your hands down.

You're feeling panicked and scared. Your eyes are flickering around the room, trying to make sense of the situation.

Steve's face comes into view and you see his lips moving, eyes watching you in a worried way. He faces away from you for a minute and you see him shouting before he turns back to you.

He's holding both your hands in one hand, his other hand running over your hair in a soothing motion.

"It's okay," you finally make out. He strokes his thumb over your cheek, collecting the tears that were falling. You hadn't realized that you were crying. "You're going to be okay," he says in a soothing way, his eyes showing no sign of betrayal.

There's a cluster of people who crowd into the room and you find that Steve is shoved away from you.

The tube is gently removed from your throat by one doctor. Another is shining a bright light in your eyes. A third is looking over your monitor and a fourth is taking notes of the whole thing.

Just as quickly as they came, they all left with the exception of one who stays behind to tell you what happened. As soon as they relayed the message, they're off.

They leave you alone with Steve.

Your throat is incredibly sore from lack of use and having a tube shoved down it for days on end. Thankfully, a nurse leaves you with a bit of water to sooth it.

Now that the fear is out of your system, you fully remember that you and Steve aren't on the best of terms.

"Wh-what are you doin' here," you croak out, trying not to wince at how gravely your voice sounds. But you need answers and Steve isn't the type to just provide them without prodding.

Steve is standing awkwardly at the end of your bed, hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders slumped. You idly eyeball the muscles in his forearms but shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. He doesn't deserve your thirsty ass.

He looks away from you and clears his throat. "I've been doing some thinking," he starts.

"That's a fucking change," you grumble.

He shoots you an exasperated look. "How about I talk and you listen? Your throat has to be raw and there's no point in agitating it more." He looks to you for confirmation that you agree but all you offer him is a blank stare. That's good enough for him. "I uh-well, simply put, I fucked up."

You snort at this revelation but otherwise didn't comment.

"Just before we broke up, I had received a letter from a person and they said that if I pursue a relationship with you that you would be the one to pay the price. They had a picture of us together on a run, but you were clearly the focus of the picture. Except, they scratched out your face. The threat was a real concern and I contacted Sharon to see if she would help. That's when you found me on the phone." He pauses, looking at you only to see an unamused look on your face. "She wasn't able to get any leads and that triggered something inside me. I realized that if we continued on with our relationship that there would be more threats that would come and there was no way for me to protect you from them all. That's when I decided that it was better for you to hate me and put distance between us. Only….I found myself to be miserable. Nothing was the same. It was like living life without a purpose. Just going through the motions because there are people who depend on me. And to constantly see the look of hatred in your eyes every time I was around you…it was slowly killing me. But, I guess that sometime between you digging a bullet from my leg, you getting shot and me almost losing you all together made me realize how strong you are. You don't need me. And that…that is what makes you so amazing. I had to face a reality where you didn't exist in it and that was worse. I prayed that you would make it out of this. You don't have to forgive me, but I needed you to know the truth behind our breakup. It was unfair of me to underestimate you and you deserve nothing less than the best. I guess that the point of all this rambling is that I still love you… and that I've never stopped."

"Are you done?" you ask thinly, looking at Steve over the lip of your cup as you sip at your water.

He gives you a dejected look. "Yeah, that's all I have. Guess I'll go-"

"Sit your star-spangled ass down, Rogers," you command, slamming your cup down on the side table. "It's my turn to talk."

Steve follows your direction and took the seat to your right and waits patiently for you to continue.

"First of all, you chucklefuck, I knew about the threat. You think you're so special that you're the only one who got a letter? No, no you are not. I even was so special that I got four letters!" You give him a second to process while you take another sip. "What really pisses me off is that you didn't think to come to me with the situation and ran to your ex-girlfriend for help. Want to know the reason why she couldn't get any leads? That's because your boyfriend and I handled the fucking threat."

"I went to Sharon to help you," he defends, yet knowing that doesn't change him being an idiot. "I swear to you, Kamryn. There's nothing there except for a working relationship. I don't see her in any sort of romantic light. That light is reserved solely for you."

You let out a frustrated groan. "Jesus, Steve. All this time I was thinking you were just an average idiot when clearly, you are a super idiot!" You close your eyes and rub your temples, trying to fight off a headache that's slowly encroaching. "Bottom line, the reason why we broke up is that you chose not to communicate with me."

There's a moment of silence as he takes in what you're saying. "I'm only human, Kamryn. All I can do is hope you understand that and no relationship is perfect…and that I will try harder to be better…if you decide to take me back."

Your pulse quickens as you realize this is what you've been waiting for. You longed for some magical way to fix things between the two of you and here's the golden opportunity. You only need to think for a second.

Reaching over, you grab Steve by his shirt and pull him to you, crashing his lips to yours. It's a kiss full of passion that leaves you panting for breath once Steve pulls away.

"I take it that's a yes?" he teases, wanting verbal confirmation.

"Just kiss me again, you twat."

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