9 Loyalty
Sharon visited Steve without warning that day, which was unusual because Sharon was not one to revel in spontaneity, but Steve let her in gladly because the silence in his apartment was loud and another presence, any other presence, was appreciated. Steve often wondered what it was like for Bucky and Natasha, living together where they never had to be alone, not even when they were sleeping. He thought it might have been like when he and Bucky were roommates before the war, because that was probably one of the best times of Steve's life, and sometimes, when he sat alone, he really missed those days.
There was a certain level of ostracization that Steve felt because of this, and he would have been able to find the words for it, except that he kept pushing it out of his mind every time it rose up, but he hated being in his apartment complex. It was stupid, and silly, but he hated the fact that he was a walk away from two of the people he loved the most, while they were so close to each other that they barely had to raise their voices to be heard at any point of the day. Steve knew that Bucky and Natasha's relationship was different, of course, and that wasn't what he wanted. He just knew he didn't like to be set apart, to be compartmentalized, to be cut off. He often wished that when Bucky had originally decided to get an apartment, that he had been safe enough and comfortable enough to get an apartment next to Steve, instead of next to Natasha.
But, of course, he had Sharon. Sharon was in his building, she was his friend, and now she was here, in his doorway, saying, "I just thought I'd come over and say hello."
"Come in," Steve said, stepping aside and holding the door open wider and Sharon smiled politely and stepped over the threshold and let Steve shut the door behind her.
"Your nose looks a little better," Sharon commented, which wasn't true, Steve knew, because he'd looked in the mirror this morning and bruises stretched across the bridge of his nose and into his cheeks, bright, sick green and purple. Even the fingermarks on his neck lingered, just longer than Steve wanted them to. He looked like he'd painted himself in splotchy, death colors.
"Thanks," he told Sharon, and then let her step closer to him, closer than she'd ever gotten to him before, and inspect his face. She took his cheek gently in one hand and turned his head and her face was pitying. He watched her eyes travel down to his neck and she frowned, taking her hand back slowly.
"He really hurt you," she mentioned and Steve felt everything in him become entirely defensive.
"It wasn't his fault," he said. "They hurt him. And besides, I'm fine. I've survived a lot, Sharon."
"Like I could forget," Sharon replied and rolled her eyes. Then, "Did he apologize?" Steve furrowed his brow and pursed his lips.
"He doesn't need to," he said.
"Course," Sharon said, looking down, and Steve thought that maybe she was letting it go, but then she kept going. "It just bugs me. You have hand marks, Steve. I can see right where each of his fingers were."
"But it wasn't his choice," Steve retorted hotly. "It wasn't like he wanted to strangle me."
"I know," Sharon said.
"He's my friend," Steve said.
"I know," Sharon said again. "But he's dangerous." Steve stared down at Sharon's face and felt anger flare up inside him.
"Is this what you came here to say?" He asked darkly after a long, quiet minute and Sharon looked up at him and shook her head.
"No," she said.
"Then what is it?" He asked.
"You know," Sharon said with an empty smile that told Steve she was lying. "I can't remember." Steve stared at her. "I'll talk to you later, Steve," she added and reached for his door now. "I'll text you."
"Okay," Steve said, and Sharon was leaving, but before she had gone too far, Steve stepped out of his door and called to her. "Wait, hold on. Sharon, wait, this is important." Sharon stopped and turned around and looked at Steve. "Do you want to meet Bucky?" He asked and watched her eyes flicker to his neck. "He's my best friend, you'd have to meet him eventually," Steve added, stepping completely out into the hall now. "And I think you'll understand better if you meet him."
"I don't particularly want to," Sharon said and Steve folded his arms defiantly.
"Sharon, it wasn't his fault," he said. "And if you can't come to terms with that, you and me are going to have some real issues." Sharon turned to face him, her feet planted, and he watched her fold her arms exactly like he so often folded his. She looked like she was considering, a frown set into her face.
"Fine," she said. "But if I see anything suspicious…"
"Then you'd better believe I'd take a bullet for him," Steve said and Sharon met his eyes for only a second before looking away and sighing, defeated.
"That's your fatal flaw, Steve," she said. "That's not a good thing."
"No, that's loyalty," Steve shot back. "That's the right thing to do."
"Not when you have a bullet in your brain," Sharon said and Steve's eyes hardened.
"I'd be honored to die for someone I love," he said and Sharon stood there in that hallway, studying him in silence. Finally, she let out a breath and dropped her arms and turned away.
"I'll talk to you later, Steve," she said. "Bye."
"Goodbye," Steve said and watched her walk down the hall and into her own apartment before turning back into his, thinking hard about what Sharon had said.