A piece of the rock was digging into your thigh, and you shifted as little as you could to find a better position. Crouched on your right, Steve spared you a quick glance before he turned back to the clearing fifty feet ahead. The two of you were concealed by the trees and some sort of thick underbrush, but the clearing still felt way too close for comfort.
The Comm lines were quiet, and you weren't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. The target you were currently after was dangerous enough that Tony was going to deploy the Hulk's containment unit to capture it, and Thor was the one who was supposed to goad it into the clearing you were eyeing nervously. The others were ranged around as backup for Thor, with Sam and Tony providing air coverage.
As the medic, you were usually tucked into the area of least danger, with someone to keep an eye out to make sure you didn't need to give yourself first aid. Usually Natasha and Clint, the other mostly normal members, were the ones with you. But today Steve had said you were to stick close to him, no matter what, and generally the only time that he did that was when he was worried. And that generally made you anxious, since so few things made him that concerned.
Without warning Steve reached over and grabbed your wrist, nearly causing you to jump out of your own skin.
"If you keep on like that, I'm going to have Romanoff paint your nails." He said, his voice barely audible.
You looked down at the hand that he was holding, and realized that you had been chewing on your nails for probably the last ten minutes. You were surprised he had noticed, since you had barely registered you were doing it yourself. His hand was warm even through his glove though, and you felt more than a little pleased that he cared enough to make you stop.
"Wait," you whispered as his comment finally sunk in, "are you saying that Nat has nail polish on her right now?"
That seemed like an impressive amount of preparation from even the Black Widow, although you wouldn't have been entirely surprised if she did. You already knew that she carried lipstick and a basic makeup kit along with her collection of really nasty little gadgets and weaponry.
"No. I meant for when we returned to base." Steve said, squeezing your hand gently.
"Go ahead. I won't be biting them once we get back."
And it was true. Your nail biting was a singularly nervous habit, and you wouldn't keep at it once you were all back safely. It was only when you were really on edge that you reverted to the childhood habit. Otherwise, your nails were as neat, if short, as could be.
There was a rustle ahead, and Steve let go of your wrist as the two of you focused on the clearing. Your heart rate increased as you strained your hearing for the sound of anything, but all you could hear was your own breathing. Nothing appeared as the minutes dragged on, and you returned to chewing on your thumbnail.
You weren't sure how much time had passed when Steve suddenly made a weird choking sound and grabbed your hand again.
"For the love of— (Name), you're bleeding."
As soon as Steve said it, you were aware of the taste of copper in your mouth, and you looked down to see that you had bitten your thumbnail and first fingernail to the quick. Blood was oozing from beneath the nails and smeared over the top half of your finger and thumb. You probed the corner of your mouth with your tongue and realized you had blood on the side of your mouth as well.
Steve's grip on your wrist was a little tight, and he actually looked angry. Using his teeth he pulled off his leather glove and yanked it onto your bleeding hand, adjusting the wrist strap so it wouldn't fall off. He did the same with your other hand, and then turned away.
His gloves were too big, and since you were already getting blood on the inside of the one, you used it to wipe your face. They were soft on the inside though, and warm from his body heat.
"I guess it's a good thing you wore the gloves with fingertips, today." You said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. You weren't used to having Steve of all people angry at you. Tony, sure, you got on his nerves as much as he got on yours, but you never fought with Steve. You liked Steve.
Steve gave you a look you couldn't read, and then the clearing kind of exploded with the containment unit crashing into the dirt. The Comms came alive with everyone yelling different information, and you dove behind a sturdy looking tree as Steve took off to help subdue the target. Tony had since added a feature that closed off the floor of the containment unit and increased the electric current, so it was over shortly.
Sam complimented you on your dive to safety, and Natasha brushed debris from your hair, but Steve didn't look at you again during the entire trip back on the Quinjet. You were left to nurse your fingers and feelings alone, as the others were going over specifics of the target and Thor was guarding the unit.
Natasha, always the most perceptive, rubbed your shoulder when the jet landed and she smiled at you encouragingly. The ramp dropped onto the landing pad, and Thor and Tony went first along with the trapped target. Clint and Natasha were off next, and you were just about to walk out when you were bodily picked up by Steve.
"Hey!" You said louder than you had intended, shocked, "Put me down!"
"You're going to medical." Steve said in way of an answer, and he walked briskly inside the Avengers facility.
You would have made more of a fuss, but he was still frowning. And since you really did like having an excuse to cuddle the Captain, you decided not to push the issue.
He dropped you off in the medical wing, with a brusque command to the staff to "look after their hands" before he left. Your friends and colleagues were so horrified by what you had done to yourself that they bandaged every single finger to protect them, after they had trimmed the nails so they were less ragged. The end result made it really hard to hold onto anything, including Steve's gloves that you insisted on taking with you.
Glad that doorknobs were no longer in fashion, you made your way to the cafeteria. Everyone was sitting at one of the big communal tables, talking about the mission. They were all there and still in one piece, and you breathed a sigh of relief before you filched a sandwich from the cooler and escaped to your room without any of them seeing you.
It was difficult to get the saran wrap off your sandwich, but you managed eventually and ate it without paying much attention to what it was. You picked Steve's glove up from the desk and turned it over in your hands when you were done eating and winced when you saw the dark stains on it. You wondered if you could even get blood stains out of leather or if you should just stash the gloves and pretend not to know what happened to them.
You felt a little guilty considering it, even if Steve did have multiple spares. The dull throbbing in your injured fingers was distracting and getting worse by the minute, and you put the glove back down.
There was a sudden knock on your door just as you put it down, and you leapt to your feet, brushing crumbs off your shirt.
"Who is it?"
"It's Steve."
"Oh, come in!" You frantically crammed the gloves into a desk drawer, and turned to face the man who had just entered your room.
He no longer looked angry to your great relief, although he didn't quite look like himself either. He closed the door behind him, something he almost never did, and leaned against it with one thumb hooked into his pocket. There was something in his other hand that he kept tapping against his leg, and you realized that the reason he looked odd was because he actually looked nervous.
After a long moment while you waited for him to say something, Steve remained silent and didn't even move away from the door. The silence was starting to get awkward, so you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
"Look, I'm sorry about today." You started, and Steve looked up at you in surprise.
"No, I should apologize." He said immediately, finally walking over to you. "I didn't mean to be so harsh."
You smiled sadly and waggled your bandaged fingers at him. "It's ok; you had a right to be angry. I'm not much of a medic like this, am I?"
"I suppose not. That's why I, uh, I got you these"
Steve rubbed the back of his neck and held out whatever it was that he had in his other hand.
You took it from him, and unfolded a pair of leather gloves. They were dark but not black like Natasha's, and the fingertips were sewn so fine that it looked like it would fit like a second skin. They were soft but tough, and they were the most beautiful pair of gloves you had ever seen.
"Wow. Steve, these are amazing."
A grin brightened his face, and Steve propped his hands on his hips. "I'm glad to hear that. I thought they would help prevent a repeat of today."
"Too bad I'll have to wait to test them." You said, sighing. The gloves would definitely prevent a repeat, but there was no way you could try them on with the current state of your hands.
"Do your fingers still hurt?"
"Yeah."
Steve smiled at you and he lifted your right hand to his lips in a courtly way that made your cheeks begin to flush, pressing a kiss to your bandaged fingertips.
"My mother," he said, still holding your hand and blushing a bit himself "was a firm believer that a kiss could make everything better."
"I think she was onto something."
"I think so too." Steve said, and pressed a kiss to your other hand.
I'm also on tumblr under the same username, and I'll post all the same stories there. Thank you for reading!