Oh my god, I am SOOO sorry for the wait! I had this chapter all written out, but apparently I didn't save it, and like half of it disappeared! UGH! Anyway, this chapter is honestly kinda sucky. It's just a filler. But let me know if there are any certain scenarios you would like to see in future chapters. I'm up for suggestions! There will be plenty of awkward moments and cutey moment, and some serious moments, too. There's actually a plot to this, believe it or not.
Sadly, Steve Rogers is still not in my bed, therefore I STILL do not own the Avengers.
Damn.
Once outside the circular cafeteria, I felt like I could breathe again. The door swung closed behind me, and I slumped against it. My mousy hair fell into my face and my large glasses slipped down my nose as I breathed heavily. Did I actually just do that? Oh my god. Okay, so maybe that wasn't the best approach to take with Stark. But he was an insensitive prick, I tried to reason with myself. Yes, true, but storming out of there like the place was on fire isn't going to help you with these people. PLUS, I thought you were helplessly in love with him and wanted to have his babies. Yeah, well that was just from what I've seen on Tumblr, and you can shut your mouth now.
I snapped my head up when I heard fast footsteps approaching the other side of the cafeteria door. Really? They're coming after me? Obviously, I really didn't feel like talking to anyone at the moment, thank you very much. So I did the first thing that came to mind.
I started to run.
Leave it to me, running away from my problems. Anyway, I was already hurtling around the corner, my rubber soles skidding on the smooth floor, when I heard the door swing open and Coulson call out "Miss McNeeson!"
Obviously, I didn't stop to see what he wanted.
I ran through the corridors of the Helicarrier, the sound of my heavy breathing keeping me company. Now, I normally hate running. Like, I loath the activity with the passion of a thousand burning suns. I was a swimmer. That's what I do. But, considering the hallways of the Helicarrier weren't 5 feet deep with water, running was my only option. And honestly, it felt good to have my legs begging for me to stop moving them at this alarming fast rate. It felt good to feel this pain. At least I was feeling.
Lately, ever since, SHIELD agents came to my home and told me the news, I've just felt numb. I didn't cry when I found out my parents were gone. I didn't break down during the funeral. It's been almost two weeks, and I haven't showed any emotion. That is, until tonight. It felt good to get pissed at Stark. It felt good to have my legs screaming in agony. The pain felt good, because it meant I was feeling. I meant that I wasn't as numb as I thought I was.
I forgot I was running for a few minutes, not really knowing where I was going. Actually, I had literally no clue where I was going. It was just a corner, a hallway, footfalls coming up behind me, another corner, et cetera. Very redundant.
After what seemed like years, the footfalls behind me became fainter and fainter. I was still running though, passing a huge window revealing what I assumed to be a lab of some sort. How the hell did I end up here? I slowed down to a jog, inspecting my new surroundings, which wasn't a good idea because now there was no way I was running again. My adrenaline had apparently run out, and I started walking, panting like a dog. Well, now I could definitely feel the pain.
Now what? Where even am I? Where's everyone else? What time is it? Speaking of time, I suddenly realized how tired and exhausted I was. I yawned heavily as I trudged further down the corridor, passed the lab. My eyes were drooping, and I knew I needed to find some place suitable for sleep. Fast.
I turn a corner (again) and slowly shuffled along. I felt like a zombie. Probably looked like one, too.
When I sure I was going to drop dead from exhaustion, I came across an open space, like a living area or something. The tile turned to carpet as I entered, and I was greeted with a heavenly sight: a couple of plushy chairs, a large television, and to top it all off, a long, extremely comfy looking couch. God bless.
I didn't care that I was still in jeans. I didn't care that I had no clue where I was. I didn't care that the super-team would probably find me any second. All I cared about was the plushiness of the couch as a sank into the cushions. The way my feet no longer needed to support me and were left to dangle over the armrest.
Needless to say, the moment my head his the cushion, I was out.
I was vaguely aware of the following.
I didn't know how long I had been dozing on the couch. My hair was sticking to my forehead and my spectacles were half way off my face, awkwardly pushing into the bridge of my nose. As I regained some consciousness, I slowly became aware of hushed voices around me. I was still half asleep, and too lazy to open my eyes, let alone move for that matter. I simply listened.
"Tony, we can't just leave her here!" Ah, Banner, the ambassador. Must be the voice of reason in the group.
"Of course we can! She seems comfortable enough." Yeah, well screw you too Stark.
"Stark, you're a real ass sometimes." I think that was Steve Rogers. Double swoon. He went on to say something about my well being and how they couldn't just abandon me here. Or it might have been that he wanted to play golf. Everyone's speech was pretty fuzzy considering my brain was half way to shutting down.
However, I could clearly hear Stark huff and puff his sassy reply. "Then what do you suggest we do, most knowledgeable one?"
There were a few moments of silence as the three men seemed to consider the question. I attempted to go back to sleep, which was what I wanted more than anything at that moment. But alas, twas not to be.
"We need to take her to -"
What possessed me to move, I don't know, but Banner stopped short as I unexpectedly turned my body. I was now laying on my side, the crook of my arm cradling my head. I mumbled some incoherent gibberish into my arm, and went limp yet again. What the fuck? I'm half asleep, not half dead.
Everything was quiet for a few moments. No one even breathed. The quiet was much appreciated, and I almost feel back into a zombie slumber.
Almost.
Banner spoke much softer this time around, so I didn't catch exactly what he said. I do know, however, that it had the words "move her" and "room". Whatever that meant. I honestly could care less. Can't they tell I just wanted to sleep? Is that to much to ask? Do superheroes not sleep or something? Just, what the hell?
I heard who I guessed was Stark scoff at Banner's statement, and say quite loudly "I'm not gonna do that!" which was follows by aggravated shushes from Rogers and Banner. I mumbled some more, not even sure what I was saying, myself. I really should learn to control my involuntary noises.
Everything was quiet for a second time, and this time about 3/4 of my brain pulled the plug for the night. I was vaguely aware of my open mouth, and I tiredly prayed to God that I was not drooling. Now that would be embarrassing.
My ears picked up the exasperated tone of Steve Rogers. He sighed heavily, obviously getting real tired of Tony's shit, and mumbled something along the lines of "I'll do it". For a moment I wondered what exactly "it" pertained to, until large arms scooped me up from the cushions. I was cradled, princess style, close to a firm chest, my cheek brushing again thermal material.
Even with my more-than-half asleep zombie mind, I knew what was happening. Steve Rogers was carrying me.
What the what?
My head lulled against the crook of his elbow and my legs dangled over his arm. I was surprised how comfortable it actually was, but then again it might just have been the sound of his heartbeat and the smell of Old Spice and the fact that he was freaking carrying me, princess style. I don't really remember.
The cushions no longer to my back, the cold air took it's chance and slipped in my sleeves and under my sweatshirt. I involuntarily shivered and contracted my body, bringing it closer to the warm chest of Steve Rogers. I think I mumbled something along the lines of "so cold" or "tiiiiiiiiiired". Rogers' body obviously stiffened as I cuddled closer to him, and snickering could be heard somewhere next to me.
"What's wrong, Capsicle? Too close for comfort?"
Steve's chest rumbled against my ear as he growled "Shut it, Tony."
Suddenly, I was being lightly jostled as my chauffeur-of-sorts took off, presumably down the hallway. The overhead lights glared down at me, the back of my eyelids a dull red color. I pulled a face of annoyance and grumbled, stuffing my face further into Steve's thermal. His arms, one under my knees and one under my neck, pulled me a bit tighter to his hard torso. I'm still not sure if it was a subconscious action, but I like to think it was.
On one side of me, Banner was giving some sort of hushed, hurried directions to Steve, saying things like "go to the east wing" and "its the fifth door". Our caravan turned a corner, the breeze of the quick movement giving me shivers. I remember yawning quite widely, and I think Stark compared me to a cat.
Everything was fading pretty fast, and after a while, I stopped listening to the voices around me. Reality became incoherent and disconnected as my eyes rolled to the back of my head and my breathing became slow and even. With the steady tempo set by the long strides and heartbeat of Steve Rogers, I was finally lulled back to sleep.
Ugh. Don't look at me! I'm sorry this chapter was horribly horrible. After half of it disappeared, I had some writer's block. But you know what cures that? REVIEWS! Yes, please, my fellow fanfiction readers, please please please review! And that you soooooooo much to everyone that has reviewed! It truly means the world to me, I can't stretch that enough!
Long story short, sorry this chapter sucked ass, and please review!
~Z