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Snippet #1C:
Forty-eight hours later and his concussion-induced headache was just starting to fade, the idea of writing his resignation fading right along with it. In truth, things could have turned out a lot worse than they did; he could have killed himself and Agent Barton. But Jeff was a glass half full type of guy so he was thanking his lucky stars that Agent Barton's quick reflexes had saved them from receiving anything more than scrapes, bruises and a mild concussion in his case. And really, it wasn't Agent Barton's fault that some new recruit had pissed Agent Romanoff enough that she came to take it out on Agent Barton.
"Could you lend me a hand?"
Adams physically flinched before turning to find Captain Rogers poking his head out of the nearest doorway. "Uh, sorry Sir, but I really need to be getting to-"
Rogers rolled his eyes, "Son, I just need you to hold the door open while I move these crates into the hall."
"That's it? Just hold the door?" he peered past Captain Rogers to see five very large, very heavy looking metal crates lining the walls of the room.
Steve raised an eyebrow at the younger man's odd behavior. "Yes, just hold the door."
"Oh, alright, I suppose that can't hurt."
So he held the door.
It was easy, no chance of getting hurt, and Captain Rogers was moving quickly and efficiently despite the obvious weight of the crates.
Adams breathed a sigh of relief as Rogers dropped the last crate in the hall. He released the door letting it swing shut behind him, ready to hurry down the hall before the Captain could find anything more dangerous to do.
"Don't let that close!"
Jeff reacted on instinct to the commanding voice. He shoved his foot out, barely squeezing it between the door jam and the heavy door, and received two crunched toes for his effort. He will deny to his dying day that the resulting high-pitched, girly scream could have possibly come from his mouth.
Steve covered his amused smirk with a concerned look. "That looks painful, Son. Would you like me to help you to the infirmary?"
"No- no, I'm good," Adams managed in a voice that was still an octave higher than it should have been. He quickly hobbled down the hall, avoiding putting any weight on his damaged toes while trying to put as much space as possible between himself and the American icon.
That resignation wasn't sounding like such a bad idea anymore.