america's assassin ➻ steve rogers

ten

I let Scott back into the room as I searched my miniscule belongings for a turtleneck sweater, letting my hair back out of its ponytail to cover some of the damage. I had thrown half the suitcase onto the floor before I found the green sweater and pulled it over my head, inspecting myself in the mirror in the bathroom to see what was left as Scott settled himself in the same chair as yesterday, still averting his eyes from me. The sweater hid ninety five percent of the damage, which was a lot for a grown man to inflict, and my hair hid the one remaining mark that was too high to cover. It would do for now, but I only had one turtleneck and I couldn't wear it for a week in a row without somebody asking why.

"Please stop looking so awkward," I said to Scott when I reentered the room typing away on my phone, hoping that Amazon did extra fast delivery to the compound so I could order some of that heavy duty makeup for my neck.

"I am really sorry about before," He blurted. "I just wasn't expecting, well, that." His face was still red and I wanted to laugh at him if I hadn't known how traumatising walking in on someone could be.

"Yes, well," I started, wondering what I would even say. "It isn't a big deal." The redness began going down on his face as he looked at me, eyebrows raised.

"It's not?" He asked. I shrugged. I wondered what Natasha would say if she found out and then immediately shut it down. She couldn't find out.

"No, but I would appreciate it if you didn't say a word to anybody about what you saw," I said. "Especially Nat." He watched me for a second, wondering why I might want to keep it quiet before he nodded.

"Okay," He said. "Can I ask how this happened, though? Yesterday I'm pretty sure I saw you assault him at the dinner table." Scott's embarrassment seemed to turn to curiosity and I wasn't sure which was better. I shrugged. I didn't really understand how it had happened, either.

"I'm not sure we are quite close enough to discuss how that happened," I said.

"Uno, then?" He asked, understanding my boundary and rolling with it. I grinned and pulled the card game out from under the table between us.

"Absolutely not," I said in a hard voice, glaring between Nat and Tony who'd had the audacity to ask such a hands off question. Nat looked like she was halfway between taking my side and begging for me to agree, but my answer would be the same. No fucking way.

"But they might have information about Silver's whereabouts," Tony said in a voice that made it clear he did not understand or care about the clear line I'd drawn in regards to their mission to hunt down Silver.

"Key word there, might." I kept glaring. "They might have information, they most likely do not. This is not up for a debate, Stark. Even if I knew where they were, I would not tell you." Tony crossed his arms over his chest and I mirrored his stance. I'd wondered why my new chaperone Bucky had dragged me down to this stupid meeting room instead of taking me to dinner like he'd promised. It was so they could try and bully information out of me.

"We just want to find him, Mia," Nat said softly. I turned my glare on her.

"You've sure changed your tune, Natasha," I sneered. "Going from pretending they don't exist to bringing them into it." She sighed.

"We're all on the same side."

"No, we're not." I huffed. "You want to find him, they just don't want him to find them. Which, by the way, he will certainly do if you bring them into this."

"Mia," I turned to Steve who stood in the corner of the room, arms crossed leaning against the wall, a stoic expression on his face. "If we find him, your friends won't need to hide anymore." I glared at him, fingering the little knife tucked up in my sleeve and tempted to throw it at him.