Captain America
Author's note and disclaimer: I've been a mood to write a Steve Rogers, Avengers type thing. I'll be using my character for Criminals Minds. I haven't decided if I want to do a cross over or anything (it sounds like too much work, so I'm probably not gonna do it). For right now though, I think I'm just gonna stick with Ester. There will be similar accepts like her past and maybe her career. I haven't decided yet. Knowing me I'll probably decide in the middle of this damn thing.
I do not own Captain America, Avengers or Marvel.
Saucy
Steve trudged up the stairs—exhausted. Even though he was a super soldier, he was tired. Not just physically, but emotionally. It had been one mission after another without breathing room and after a while anyone would get tired. Including him.
When he finally got to his floor he could hear it. The music from his era playing loudly—vibrating off the door and echoing in the hallway. A sigh escaped his smirk as he shook his head. His neighbors were probably pissed and right now he really didn't care. He knew there was only one person alive who would blast music like that.
Ester didn't even hear the door open and close. She didn't hear Steve purposely drop his to-go bag on the floor so it would make a noise loud enough to startle anyone. She didn't hear the wooden floor creak as Steve stepped into the kitchen and lean against the fridge. She didn't even hear him clear his throat. Ester was so far gone in her thoughts as she stirred the sauce that not even Wanda would be able to drag her out into the open.
That's when he noticed the bandages. One was wrapped around her wrists and the other was taped to her forehead. When he stepped closer, with a pensive and tight look of concern he saw the bruises around her neck. Steve hesitantly grabbed her shoulder, but Ester still reacted out of habit. Her right hand clutched his wrist and twisted his arm to the side until her brain clued her in on the person in the room.
She released him quickly and apologized even though she didn't do any real damage.
"It's fine Ester." He spoke quietly, "I should be thankful that you didn't use a gun or else you'd have a hard time explaining to Nat why my brains are all over the wall."
Ester laughed nervously, "Yea-yea you're right."
She rubbed her neck, wincing more at the memory than the dull pain the motion caused. Ester returned to her sauce, leaving Steve to carefully watch her.
"So do you want to tell me what happened?" He asked, leaning against the counter.
"About what?"
He scoffed, "The elephant in the room."
"Your apartment doesn't allow pets." Ester smirked proud of her wit, obviously.
Steve approached her, slowly. He knew P.T.S.D when he saw it and Ester was going through a fresh batch of it. He turned the dial on the heat to low and took the spoon out of her delicate, shaky hand. He was inches away from her, towering over her, but in a non-threatening manner.
"Ester, talk to me." His voice was low, concerned and hummed in her ear and made her toes curl.
Ester swallowed hard, her green eyes closed and she drew in a rigid breath. "It was a bad case."
"How bad?"
"I really don't want to talk about it. So can you please just drop it?" Ester grabbed the spoon and continued to the sauce that was starting to bubble.
From the many sessions he went through with his own P.T.S.D and sitting in on Sam's group, Steven knew when to drop it. He got to the door without a word until Ester spoke.
"The Unsub's last victim…she died before we could save her. She was sixteen. Just a kid. She looked a lot like Amy. Or at least what I imagine what Amy would look like at that age." Ester admitted.
Steve remembered that reveal. It happened a few months after they met during one of her team's cases. Their paths had crossed and almost instantly there was a spark between them. Things seemed to work a lot better when they were together—talking—taking out the bad guys—drinking.
Ester got extremely drunk and decided to walk home, which only led her to his home. She revealed everything. The years of abuse her entire family suffered at the hands of her father. How he snapped and tortured and murdered all of them in front of her. Ester's father left her for die in the closet of the basement next to the bodies of her mother, little sister and twin brother.
Out of all the deaths her little sister's was the worst.
"There's nothing like listening to your little sister begging her daddy to stop hurting her. That she'd promise to be a good girl if he didn't hurt the rest of us."
It was chilling. The whole time Ester told him the story her green eyes were surprisingly dark. Like she was emotionless.
"And the bruises, how did those happen?" Steve pointed at the markings around her neck.
Subconsciously Ester ran a hand over them, "I put the puzzle pieces together before anyone else did. So I was the only one there. I should have been able to take him on easily. I just—"
Ester paused, propped herself up against the counter next to the stove. "When I saw her sitting at the kitchen table, I just couldn't function. It's like everything in my brain stopped working. Until he decided that branding me was a good idea."
"So I take it he looks a lot worse than you?" Steve joked.
"If by worse you mean dead? Then yes, yes he does look worse than me." Ester saw the shift of concern to panic in Steve's eyes. For some reason, he was fine if he killed the bad guys, but the minute she told him that she took someone's life it worried him. "I'm not the one who pulled the trigger. It was another agent."
Steve relaxed a little.
"But that was after he broke a glass bowl over my head and attempted to choke the life out of me with his bare hands." Ester quickly said.
"Do you want Banner to check you out?" Steve dug his phone out of his back pocket. "I'm sure he'll be more than happy to make a house call."
Ester laughed, "I'm fine. I've already been cleared by a doctor with orders to take a few days off."
"So you're first thought was to come to my apartment. I'm probably being watched by Hydra." Steven said sarcastically, "Or worse. The guys could be watching me because they don't have anything better to do."
"I'd rather take them on than a sociopathic shit head any day." Ester returned to her sauce, chuckling. "I've been stirring this damn thing for an hour and I don't know why."
Steve's brow furrowed with confusion. "What are you making?"
"Spaghetti just minus the noodles."
"So just sauce?"
"Yea no just the sauce. No noodles. It's the new fad diet. You eat nothing but red sauce for a week and you lose twenty pounds. Your sodium intake goes through the roof, but it's better for you than eating actual food." Ester rambled, her stab at society eventually cracking them both up.
Something inside Ester cracked. Her laughter mixed with sobs until tears freely rolled down her cheeks. She covered her face with her hands, the ladle toppling to the floor. Steve turned off the stove and pushed the pot away simultaneously as he pulled Ester into his chest. A beefy arm wrapped around the back of shoulders, safely securing her against him. Her arms hooked underneath his arm pits, her nails clawing at the fabric of his shirt.
Steve swept Ester off her feet as if she weighed nothing. He managed to turn all the lights off as he carried her to his bedroom. The lamp on his side was the only light flooding the room. He set Ester on his bed and strutted to his dresser, pulling a night shirt out of the drawer he labeled Ester's after she made it a habit of going over to his place when she was either drunk or felt lonely.
When he faced her he saw just how broken she was. She wasn't fighting the tears. In fact, she wasn't doing anything. The tears were just falling every time she blinked. Her breathing was normal and her shoulders sagged with exhaustion.
"Can you raise your arms for me?" He asked gently.
Ester obliged without a word, letting Steve peel her shirt off of her easily—revealing the scars she gathered throughout her life. Captain rolled the shirt up before pulling it down over her head, Ester automatically forced her arms through the holes.
"I'm gonna take your pants off, okay?"
"You can at least buy me a drink first."
Steve glanced up, seeing a small smirk pull at her lips.
"I can do it Steve."
"I know you can, but I want to." Steve sat on his knees in between her legs. In that position they were the same height, their eyes on the same level. They never broke eye contact as Steve unbuttoned her jeans and painstakingly took his time sliding them off. He waited before he stood. Just in case either of their cells went off—calling them both back to work.
When neither device chimed Steve gathered the comforter as Ester laid on her side. He sat on the floor after covering her. Holding her hand until she fell asleep, kissing her on the temple before disappearing into the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face and neck. After he brushed his teeth Steve tossed his clothes into the hamper, emerging from the room in only his boxers.
After tucking himself in, Steve buried his arm underneath Ester. He pulled her close as he scooted closer to her—meeting each other half way. He wrapped his free arm around her tiny waist, snuggling closer to her. She curled into him, the warmth radiating off his body bringing more comfort than a bottle of vodka ever could.
Author's note: This turned into such a fluff fest and I didn't want it to. I wanted there to be a lot more angst and shit. I'm just super tired and my butt has fallen asleep in this chair.