By the time September rolled around, Steve and Brooklyn had gotten into a comfortable rhythm. She spent the weekends at his apartment, where she spent her days curled in his arms while he spent his evenings in between her legs. During the week, they focused on work. He trained, and she'd be gone most evenings. Occasionally, her missions would bleed into the weekends, and Steve would wait at the Triskellion for her to return before leaving her to rest and decompress. Sometimes she wanted to sob her stress away with Steve, sometimes she wanted to be alone.
He learned to respect her process, the fact that she often needed to just let out her pent-up emotions from her time away. She learned that Steve didn't need to decompress. He came back from his first couple of missions with SHIELD with a grin on his face and a pep in his step, ready to get up and go again.
On September 21, Steve and Brooklyn strode into the Triskellion hand in hand, prepared to go their separate ways.
"Well, isn't that cute?" Rumlow taunted as they approached the armory. "Should we leave the room?"
"Ha ha. Very funny." Brooklyn replied as she shook her head and held Steve's arm a little tighter. "We took care of all our last-minute business at home."
Jack Rollins rolled his eyes and turned away as Rumlow shot him a curious look, but neither commented on her insinuation. Steve eyed them both warily, then looked to Brooklyn, "I've got to get ready. I'll see you when you get back."
"I'll miss you. Don't have too much fun in Caracas." Brooklyn hummed into Steve's lips as she kissed him. "Be careful."
"You too. You call me if you need anything, okay?"
"I will. Don't call me though. This information I'm extracting is top priority. I can't risk having my cover blown." Brooklyn warned and Steve huffed, turning to open his locker. "Steve?"
"Yeah, I heard you. I just hate when I don't hear from you."
"Sometimes it's like that. You'll get used to it." Brooklyn said as she placed her hands on her hips and looked over her shoulder at the others, "I gotta go. I'll see you soon. I love you."
"I love you, too." Steve answered, turning around to give her a quick peck before getting back to preparing for his mission.
Once she was gone, Steve grabbed his suit and went to the changing rooms, taking his time getting ready to quiet his mind. He'd learned over the course of the past months that Brooklyn and Steve worked better when they pushed away thoughts of each other. The only way to ensure they'd both come home safely was to focus on the task at hand, and that was a promise they'd made to one another.
When Steve emerged, dressed and ready, the rest of the STRIKE team were waiting for him, including Natasha Romanoff. She smirked, cocking her hip to the side as she placed her hand on her slim waist, "The sooner we get to Caracas, the sooner you get home to your girl."
Natasha was right. They arrived in Caracas four hours later to find the city in shambles. There had been a bombing near the building they were supposed to infiltrate. Apparently, somebody was trying to kill the person they were trying to extract.
"Spread out. Lay low. We look for survivors. If anyone finds the asset, call for backup. We take him alive." Steve ordered as they crept towards the smoldering building.
Cap held up his shield as he tip toed through the rubble, hand on his hip to pull his gun if he needed to. He didn't want to use it, but he knew he may need it. The sound of shifting debris caught is attention and he flung around, shield poised in front of his chest as a small girl emerged. She looked up at him with terrified eyes, and he turned to Natasha nearby.
"Don't look at me, Rogers. I don't do kids." She muttered as she continued searching with a gun in each hand.
Steve looked down at the girl as she coughed on his boots, then tried to stand and cried. "Hey!" Steve yelped as he knelt down, trying to figure out why the child was screaming. He looked around and saw the rest of the STRIKE members glancing back at him, as if to ask why he was so distracted. "What's wrong?" Steve asked the child as he looked her over quickly, realizing there was blood gushing from her calf. "Hey… hey, it's okay. We're here to help."
"Rogers, focus on the mission. We need to find our asset." Rumlow hissed through the comm, but Steve ignored the man, instead reaching into his belt and grabbing a rag to dab away the blood with.
Tears streamed from the little girl's face as she looked around in fear, finally poking Steve hard in the chest to get his attention. He looked at her and she pointed to her own chest, then lifted up her dirty shirt to show him an explosive that was strapped across her. "Guys, we have a problem. This girl has a bomb attached."
"What?" Natasha's voice snapped, but Steve didn't repeat himself, instead pulling off the child's shirt to try and figure out how to disarm it.
"Cap, focus on the mission. We don't have time for this!" Rumlow barked over the comm, but this time, Natasha's voice cut him off, "If we don't help her, we go up too."
Steve looked up to see Natasha arrive beside him, kneeling down to inspect the little girl, "Steve…" She trailed off, looking around and swallowing hard, "Steve, this was an orphanage."
"Don't say that."
"He worked next door. It would make a great cover up. Nobody would ever suspect, and he'd get away easily. Or somebody else could take him down without drawing attention to themselves."
Steve turned to Natasha and snarled, "It doesn't matter. We help her now."
Natasha sighed and knelt down beside Steve, roughly turning the girl to get a better look at the bomb strapped to her chest, "The wires are attached to the straps, if you cut them or stretch them, it'll go off."
"Can we pull it off?" Steve suggested, giving the strap a harsh pull and causing the girl to cry harder. "Sorry! I'm sorry. It's okay. We're gonna get you out of this."
Nat pushed her hand through her shoulder length hair as she thought, biting her bottom lip as she looked at the child, "I can try to disarm it, but one wrong move and all three of us go up."
"Tell me what to do, and I'll do it." Steve met Natasha's sad green eyes, "You get a safe distance."
"It didn't go off when the building fell. Maybe it's a dud."
"I'm not taking that risk." Steve argued and the little girl grabbed onto his side to hug him. Steve patted her head, taking a deep breath, "Will it go off automatically, or will there be a timer?"
"I don't know, that's a hefty explosive Rogers, even with a timer, you won't get far enough away." Natasha said, looking down at the ticking bomb as the girl clung to Steve, "If you can ease it off of her, maybe we can get a safe enough distance."
"Romanoff. We need you."
"I have to finish the mission, Steve. You got her?" Natasha asked softly, and Steve realized his team was abandoning him. He deserved it; he'd become distracted, but he wouldn't apologize for doing what was right. This innocent child didn't deserve to die because none of the adults could spare a moment to take care of her.
He nodded, "Yeah, I got her," as Natasha ran towards Rumlow and the others.
Steve turned his attention to the child, biting the inside of his lip as he carefully stretched the fabric of the harness. "Shh, I'm here. I'm not leaving." Steve told her as he pulled a knife from his belt and sliced the fabric beneath the wires. "We got this." He told her as he sliced another piece of fabric before discarding it, chopping away until all that was left were the wires and the bomb.
He took a deep breath and pulled the girl's arms above her head to slowly peel the explosive and wires off of her. Once it was gone, he looked at it, and saw the timer that had been ticking was down to five seconds.
Four.
He grabbed the child and ran.
Three.
He held his shield front of them both as he screamed to his team to find shelter.
Two.
He dove behind a pile of rubble and pulled the girl to his chest.
One.
The bomb went off and sent debris flying over Steve's head as he held his shield over himself and the child. After a moment, the dust settled and he stood, still holding the girl in his arms. He felt something sting him in the back of the neck and he winced, rubbing his skin with one hand while he carefully lowered the child. She looked up at him for a moment, backing away before running barefoot towards the rest of the city.
"Steve!" Natasha called as she came sprinting over to him. She looked him over quickly as he massaged his neck, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, something hit me. Debris or something." He mumbled, feeling the prick of whatever hit him stinging again, "I'm fine. I'll be okay."
"We got him." Rollins said over the comm and Steve sighed, looking to Natasha.
"That's it?"
She nodded, out of breath, "Sometimes it's just that simple." The corner of her mouth pulled up as she asked, "Where's your little friend?"
"I don't know. She ran off. At least she's alive." Steve said as he felt the stinging again. He looked to Natasha with squinty eyes, "Can you check my neck?"
"Yeah," she said simply, getting up on her toes to get a good look, "I don't see anything. I think you're okay."
Steve looked over as he saw Rumlow and Rollins holding a man by the shoulders with his hands cuffed in front of him, "Looks like ya'll didn't even need me."
"Honestly, you created enough of a distraction to capture him. So, without you and your bleeding heart, we'd still be running all over Venezuela."
Captain America sighed and pulled off his helmet, looking around, "It just seemed too easy."
Suddenly, a gunshot rang out and struck the man between Rollins and Rumlow, blowing a hole in his chest and killing him instantly. Steve grabbed Natasha and held up his shield as he peeked over it at the direction of the shooting, "I guess I spoke too soon."
"Take them down!" Rumlow yelled through the comm as the STRIKE team began shooting towards the sniper, but the rapid fire kept erupting from behind the building.
Finally, Brock hit his target and the fire ended. He jogged over to Steve and Natasha, pointing angrily at their asset, "This man had integral SHIELD intel, and now he's dead."
"That's nobody's fault-" Steve started, but Rumlow cut him off, "Yes, it's yours. We needed him, and now he'd dead."
"So, what do you suggest we do now?" Romanoff snapped at Rumlow and Steve looked to her, feeling his heart swell at how she protected him. He was zeroed in on Nat as she stood her ground, her hip cocked to the side. Steve ran his eyes over her quickly, then shook his head, bringing his mind back to the conversation.
Rumlow looked between Cap and Widow, then back to STRIKE who were dealing with the asset, "We leave. We have no more business here. The longer we stay, the more trouble we'll be in."
Steve let out a heavy breath as Rumlow stormed back to the quinjet. His neck still itched, and he began to sweat. Despite the mission going terribly wrong, Steve was glad to be heading home.
By the time they reached the quinjet, Steve was soaked to the bone. His whole body ached and sweat was practically pouring out of his porcelain skin. He found a spot by the back of the jet and leaned against the cool metal interior. His legs were quaking, and he felt a burning in his stomach. It wasn't until Natasha approached him that he realized something was very wrong.
"Steve, you don't look so good." Natasha said quietly as she reached out to touch him. He flinched at her touch, looking at her with blown out eyes and flared nostrils. He grabbed her hand quickly and pushed her away, looking at her in terror. Nat returned his fear with confusion, "What's wrong?"
"I don't know. I don't feel right. I need… I need some space." Steve told the Black Widow, but she didn't move away. He knelt down, feeling his thighs quake as he caught a whiff of something strong and feminine. It was Natasha. He looked up at her, swallowing down the feeling of desire that was blooming inside of him. "Please, I need you to back up."
"Why?" Natasha pressed, taking a step closer and causing Steve to practically gasp as he felt his cock harden. He slowly stood, clenching the wall until his fist turned white. Natasha studied his movements and the rising and falling of his chest, then her eyes moved lower and she realized he had an erection. Her eyes widened in realization as he panted, "Shit."
"Please, just back the fuck up!" Steve bellowed and when he looked to his left, the whole team was staring at him in shock. Nat didn't back up though, she took a step closer and grabbed the straps that held his shield. He stared at her with wild eyes, but she didn't return his lust, instead she attempted to ground him.
"I know what's happening to you." She said slowly, keeping his attention on her face as she clenched him, "It's called sex pollen. It basically ramps up your hormones until you need to release."
Steve grunted, grabbing Nat's hands and pulling them away from him, "Just give me some space. I'll be fine. My body will work through it."
The tingling began again, and Steve grabbed at his neck, punching the side of the jet as he leaned his forehead against the metal. Natasha quickly reached for his neck, finding the spot where he'd been struck, "Steve, you aren't going to work through this." She looked back at the others, who watched tentatively to see what would happen to the Captain. "Steve, let me help you."
"How?" He snarled, using every bit of willpower not to grind his pelvis against Natasha. She smelled good. He hadn't ever noticed before, but her shampoo smelled like lavender, and she had the slightest bit of aroma wafting from her core, taunting Steve.
"When we get back to D.C. I can take care of you." She said evenly, looking to the pilot, "How much longer?"
"About three and a half hours."
"No, no, I'll be okay, I'll be okay." Steve said as he turned around, clenching the beams of the jet with both hands, "I can't- I can't do that to- to Brooklyn."
"She'll understand, this stuff is intense. She sleeps with people all the time, it'll be no different. If you can just hold out until then…" Natasha watched as Steve practically writhed in place, throwing back his head to groan loudly, shamelessly. His desperation was overtaking his need to keep his composure.
"Don't know if he's gonna make it that long, Widow." Rumlow said quietly and Natasha looked from the STRIKE team to Captain America, seeing how much pain and desperation he was in.
Natasha took a step closer and Steve grabbed her tightly, grinding his hard cock against her leg quickly before he let go of her and grabbed the wall again. He looked to the floor, seeing his shield, then looked to Nat, "I can't do that to you, or to her. I can't, I won't."
"Steve, you're in pain. You've been drugged, and I can help you. Let me." Natasha coaxed, but Steve imagined the look on Brooklyn's face when she heard that he'd fucked Natasha. He realized she wouldn't be mad; she'd just be worried. She'd make sure he was okay and brush away the betrayal, because she understood, as he did with her.
Steve couldn't forgive himself, though. He couldn't make love to his girl knowing he'd enjoyed having sex with someone else. He wouldn't do it. He couldn't be with Brooklyn if he did that.
Before Natasha could even ask what he was doing, Steve kicked up his shield and bashed his head against the vibranium with enough force to knock himself out.
Steve's eyelids felt heavy as he began to stir. Somebody was shaking him roughly, but all Steve could focus on was the throbbing of his cock. He began to regain consciousness and he remembered why he was knocked out. He knocked himself out because he was two breaths away from ripping Black Widow's catsuit off and pounding himself into her.
But Brooklyn.
He couldn't do that to Brooklyn. He couldn't betray her like that. He'd fight it off. That's what the serum did, it created a protective barrier around his cells, and it caused him to not get drunk. It should fight off this sex pollen shit in a few minutes, but here he was, achingly stiff and sweating buckets as he wondered where he was.
"Steve? Honey? Are you okay?"
He blinked rapidly at the sound of her voice, looking to his right and panting in an instant, "Brooke?"
"Hey… hey. You're gonna be okay." She whimpered as she wiped his brow with a washcloth, "I'm here. I'm gonna take care of you."
"How? Where are we?" Steve groaned as he arched his back, his body becoming more alive at the prospect of being with his girl, "Honey, I got hit with the- the-"
"Yeah, I know. You're gonna be okay. I'm going to take care of you." Brooklyn repeated, and Steve slammed his eyes closed, unsure if she was really there, or if his mind was playing tricks on him. He wanted it to be her so badly.
Steve groaned loudly and reached down, realizing he was stripped of his uniform, "Baby…"
"Shhh, you're okay. You're gonna be okay." She murmured as she tossed the rag to the side. Steve let out a low whine and Brooklyn chuckled, shaking her head before sliding out of her silk robe. Steve blew air out through his lips as he gazed at her naked chest, barely containing himself.
She grabbed his hands and placed them on her breasts, causing his eyes to widen as a loud moan ripped through his throat. "Steven Grant Rogers, can you not contain yourself for one damn minute?"
"You know I can't." He practically howled, jerking her neck towards him so he could shove his tongue into her mouth. Once he tasted her on his lips, he realized she was really there, and he reached down and ripped away the panties that kept him from what he wanted. "If you need me to stop, you tell me to stop, do you understand?"
"Steve." She gripped his face harshly and he ran his hands up and down her torso, drunk with desire and need, "Do whatever you need to feel better. I can take it. I love you."
"I love you too. So damn much." Steve muttered as he yanked her down onto his mouth before flipping them over, so he was on top. "I don't understand what's happening, but I need you. I need you so badly, but I don't want to hurt you."
"Steve. Put your dick in me." Brooklyn deadpanned as she spread her legs, "It's nothing I haven't experienced before."
Steve didn't need any more encouragement, and he dove onto her, claiming her mouth and her body as his own for the next six hours, through the night until the sun rose the next morning.
When dawn finally came, Steve wept against Brooklyn as she slept soundly. She'd passed out after ten rounds, but Steve went for seven more at her insistence, until he finally felt the relief he needed from the drugs. He wept from the moment she passed out and hadn't stopped crying as morning arrived. Steve ran his fingers along her tangled hair and kissed her face, but she didn't move.
If it weren't for her labored breathing, Steve would have thought he'd killed the woman he loved. He was angry at himself for not being able to stop and not being able to control himself. He was angry that he'd fallen victim to the drug in the first place, even though he was baffled by its ability to affect him at all. Part of Steve was thankful he hadn't taken Natasha up on her offer, but he wondered if it would have been better than hurting Brooklyn.
Never once did she tell him to stop, even though he told her to. Never once did she cry over the bruises he left, even though she should have. Steve whimpered against her cheek as he considered what he'd done, the things he could never take back. Brooklyn had experienced a lot of trauma because of her job, and Steve couldn't bear the thought of causing more trauma for her to work through.
"Steve?"
He lifted his chin to see her tilting her head towards him. She was breathless and barely able to move, but she smiled weakly at him as he wrapped his strong arm around her and pulled her close. She winced a little at his touch, and Steve leaned his forehead against her, crying softly. "I'm so sorry."
"How do you feel?" She whispered, barely able to reach up and grab Steve's cheek.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have… I'm sorry. Please forgive me."
"Steve, it's okay. I'm okay." She murmured as her eyes fluttered closed again, "I love you."
"I love you, too. You'll be okay. I promise. I'll take care of you." Steve promised as he kissed her cheek, realizing she'd fallen asleep again. He sniffled loudly and carefully pried himself out of her arms before standing and stumbling to the bathroom.
The bed they'd slept in was drenched in sweat and cum and possibly blood, but Steve didn't dare look. He looked at himself in the mirror and splashed cold water on his face, willing his mind to catch up and see clearly for the first time in hours.
He turned the shower on freezing and washed away the sweat as he tried to remember the night before, but it had been intense and hazy. He'd been too rough with his girl, and he couldn't take that back. He didn't know who drugged him, and he didn't know what their intentions were, but Steve wished he hadn't ended up with Brooklyn. He wished he hadn't turned to her to fix him.
Steve returned to the bedroom with a clear head, finally getting a look around. He was in a nice hotel somewhere; he didn't know where. The shades were drawn, and the other twin bed was messy. He noticed all the sheets were tangled up on the floor. Steve slowly looked around and pulled the sheet away, finding a body with their neck slit. Steve backed up quickly, grasping his mouth before looking at Brooklyn.
Did she murder this man?
He climbed back into the bed and wrapped his arms around Brooklyn, resting his chin on her shoulder as she slept, his mind swirling with thoughts about what he'd done, what she'd done, and what would happen to the both of them now.
Steve stayed by her side until there was a knock on the door. He climbed out of bed and pulled on his pants and undershirt, trying to look somewhat presentable. When he looked through the peephole, he saw Natasha on the other side.
He opened the door and broke down sobbing as she entered the room, wrapping her arms around Steve as he clung to her, "I messed up."
"Is she okay?" Natasha asked quickly, prying Steve's arms away from her to push her way into the room. When she saw Brooklyn, she turned to Steve, "How many times did you go?"
"Seventeen."
"Good God Steve, are you out of your mind?" Natasha scowled at him as she sprinted to Brooklyn's bedside. She pulled out a radio and yelled into it, "I'm going to need an extraction unit and a med bay ready when we get back to SHIELD. Agent Hayes is unconscious."
"I didn't mean to… she's gonna be okay, right?" Steve asked as he sat on the bed beside Brooklyn and cupped her jaw in his palm. "Nat?"
"Steve, I need you to give her some space, I'm gonna get her dressed."
"I'm not leaving her." Steve answered as Natasha pulled a gun on him. He raised his hands in surrender as he backed away, breathing heavily, "Nat, I'm not leaving her."
"She's barely breathing, Rogers, you practically killed her. And her mark is dead."
"Nat, I-"
When a voice on the other end of her radio asked for more information, Natasha pulled the sheet off and realized there was blood on the bed.
Steve's legs quivered as he watched Natasha push back Brooklyn's hair and press two fingers to her neck. She looked up at Steve, then around the room, "Get her things. See if she had a dress or something in her bag."
He did as he was told, pulling out a red sundress that he found folded neatly in the bottom of the suitcase. Steve tossed it to Natasha and she carefully pulled it over Brooklyn, causing the woman to groan a little.
"Steve?"
"Agent Hayes, this is Agent Romanoff. We're extracting you from your mission." Natasha said firmly and Brooklyn groaned and shifted a little until Natasha clenched her arm tightly, "Hold still."
"Where's Steve?"
"I'm here, Sweetheart. I'm here." Steve murmured as he collapsed onto his knees beside her, "I'm so sorry, Honey."
"Don't be… it's fine. I'm just… tired." Brooklyn hummed, but Natasha shot Steve a warning glance, telling him that his girlfriend was more than tired.
Steve sucked in a sharp breath as Rumlow and Rollins appeared in the room, taking in the scene before them. He watched as Rumlow uncovered Brooklyn's mark, "Shit. Did you do this?" He asked Steve, but the soldier shook his head and Rumlow sighed, "She did."
"I'll carry her to the jet." Rollins offered, but Brooklyn grabbed a handful of Steve's hair to get his attention.
When he looked at her, he could see her eyes were wide and terrified. "I've got her." Steve said softly without breaking eye contact, "I did this, I'm gonna fix it."
"It's just exhaustion."
"No, it's not." Natasha repeated, glaring at Steve, "Get her to the jet."
Steve carefully scooped up Brooklyn and she pressed her head to his chest and sighed, "I'll be okay, I promise. How are you feeling?"
"Shhh, don't worry about me right now." Steve's voice was shaky as he followed Natasha out of the room, "I need you to stay awake, okay?"
"Okay." She mumbled, rolling her head back to lean against Steve's arm, "Tell me what happened."
"There was this little girl, she had a bomb strapped to her chest." Steve started, picking up his pace when the jet was in sight. "I helped her out of it, but it blew seconds later. Something hit me in the back of the neck."
"Who were you investigating?" Brooklyn asked breathlessly, and Steve just shook his head.
"That's classified."
"Even for me?" She grumbled, but Steve saw her smile weakly as they entered the jet. "You saved the kid?"
"Yeah. Then we caught the asset, but he was shot. The whole thing was a bust."
"But you were hit with something? A dart?" Brooklyn seemed to be struggling to keep her eyes open, but Steve could tell she was trying to understand what had happened to him. He didn't understand it himself.
"I guess. Nat couldn't find anything."
"When did the symptoms start?"
Steve considered this, remembering the prick, then the itching, then the sweating. He remembered Natasha more clearly than the others. He remembered it getting significantly worse on the quinjet when she was close. "They started slowly after the explosion. They got worse when we made it to the jet." Steve looked down at his shield that still laid upside down on the floor, "I was overwhelmed. I knocked myself out. Romanoff was too close."
Steve carefully sat on the floor and let Brooklyn lie across his lap as he held her upper back. She twisted her lips thoughtfully, then looked Steve in the eye, "So it started, and it got worse on its own? Like out of nowhere, right? It wasn't gradual, it started, began to fade, then started again?"
"Yeah." Steve answered quietly, shooting Romanoff a dirty look when she took a step too close, "How did you know?"
Brooklyn sighed, "It's not fun. You'd think having a drug that makes you horny would be fun, but it's not. Leaned that the hard way."
"I think there's a story there."
"Not one I want to tell in public." Brooklyn smirked and closed her eyes, "I'm so tired."
"We're only two hours out. You can do this." Natasha said as she appeared in front of the pair. She looked from Brooklyn to Steve, then addressed the woman softly, "When was the last time you went in for a physical?"
"July. Fury insisted." Brooklyn groaned and reached up to scratch Steve's head. He could tell she was doing it more for her own sake than his. Her body was stiff as she spoke to the Black Widow, "Everything was on the up and up. Got all my hardware replaced."
Natasha seemed to consider this, and a silent agreement passed between the two of them, "Okay. Just checking."
"Why?" Brooklyn whispered, but Natasha pretended not to hear her. Brooklyn looked to Steve and he leaned down and kissed her head. "Why?"
"She thinks it's more than exhaustion, Sweetheart." He said softly and her breath was sharp, making him worry even more. "I'm so sorry."
"I'll be fine. Been in worse scrapes, believe me. At least you didn't try to kill me after." Brooklyn grumbled as she closed her eyes, "If you don't want me to sleep, I need you to keep talking to me." She paused, taking a long, slow breath before adding, "Tell me about that future you imagine us having."
Steve smiled sadly, and did as she asked, speaking so quietly nobody else could hear over the roar of the jet. He kept her awake until they landed, and the medical team took her to be checked out.
After four hours, Steve was allowed to visit Brooklyn. He tentatively entered the hospital room and found her hooked up to IVs. She was awake, reading one of her trashy romance novels that she loved so much. "Hey." He greeted, drawing her attention to the door. Her smile grew all the way to her eyes, and she closed her book to give him her full attention, "How are you doing?"
"Lot better actually." She said, and Steve could hear it from the sound of her voice. "Romanoff was right about it being more than exhaustion. I'm bleeding internally, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. I'm fine. It's been taken care of."
Steve nodded, not wanting to prod her more, "I'm sorry."
"I'm not." She reached out for Steve and he took it so he could press her knuckles to his lips. "We're both going to be just fine. I promise. I'll be good as new within a day or two." She studied him as he dropped his head shamefully, "Steve, you need to let it go."
"I don't know what's worse, the fact that I hurt you or the fact that I wanted to have sex with somebody else." Steve watched Brooklyn for her reaction, but she didn't have one. "I can't let go of that feeling."
"It wasn't real, it was the drug. Plus, I'd bang Romanoff too. I wouldn't think too much of it." Brooklyn groaned and Steve tilted his head curiously, causing her to chuckle, "I'm down for a threesome if that'll make you feel better. I'd do that for you. We could do a lot worse."
Steve snorted, running his hand over her hair, "I think we're good just the two of us."