𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗬 𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗.
Charlie Stark-Rogers has grown up in the shadow of the world's greatest heroes. But spending your entire life in the face of danger takes its toll on anyone. She has secrets, thi...
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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, even though her body begged her to. ani matter how hard she tried, her mind wouldn't cooperate, and she let it win. She was far too exhausted to fight anymore.
Judging by the unsteady rising and falling of her dads's chests laying next to her, they hadn't gotten any rest either.
They would pretend they would, though.
Pops wouldn't have been able to sleep in a bed after those nightmares he had, reliving his PTSD, and Dad would have spent the past several hours stuck in his own tortured mind, blaming himself for things out of his control.
She remembered, suddenly, the conversation they had the night before. A sick, almost embarrassed feeling spread like a disease through her body, making her hands start to twitch with anxiety. Her index fingernails found the skin around her thumb and began to tear at it, the familiar sting of breaking skin sending her mind spiraling.
She didn't want to talk about it again, and she definitely wasn't looking forward to the way Tony and Steve would be treading eggshells around her.
Tony shifted slightly.
God, Charlie needed to move or she was going to explode.
Not bothering to be particularly quiet (Steve had just opened one eye and quickly shut it again, pretending he was still asleep), Charlie climbed off the end of the bed.
"Charlie?" Sure enough, Steve sat up immediately, his eyes alert and the back of his blonde hair stuck up in a cowlick. "Where you going, doll?"
She gestured vaguely at the door.
"What time is it?" Tony rubber a hand over his face and leaned over to check the alarm clock in the side table. "Sweetheart, it's only six-thirty. Why don't you lay back down?"
"We both know I'm not gonna sleep," she said, surprised how hoarse her voice was.
"We can ask for another sleeping pill from Clint," Steve said quickly.
Charlie glared at him, picking the skin around her thumbs.
Tony stared at her, folding his arms, but there was nothing angry about it. "You really do need to rest, honey," he said gently.
Charlie hated the way his voice got so quiet and soft, like he was speaking to a four-year-old. This was exactly what she didn't want; for them to treat her like she was a different person now.
