The White Queen (S.Rogers)

Chapter 66

Steve ran.

It was the only thing he could do since Stark had made a snarky comment about having to yet again replace a punching bag in the Tower's gym. He had at least upgraded the treadmill, since Steve had indicated that the machine couldn't allow him to really run at his full pace. And since New York was the city that never slept, it was nearly impossible for Captain America to run in the streets, no matter how early he got up. There was always someone willing and wanting to stop him to take a picture or ask questions.

And as of the past few days, Steve definitely did not want to stop and talk to anyone.

It had been four days since he had seen or spoken to Brooklyn. Needless to say, Steve was not handling it well.

If he was perfectly honest with himself, he hadn't handled anything well.

Ever since Bruce had informed them about the pheromone production Brooklyn was doing, and how it was affecting Steve, he had felt like he was off step. The world was moving at one pace, and he was moving at another, and no matter what he tried to do, he couldn't match it. Worse of all, his reaction to the news had been less than desirable to Brooklyn, apparently, with as quickly as she had shut down, and by extension, shut him out.

He hadn't meant to react like that. But the thoughts going through his head had made him a little less than comforting to his girlfriend. His girlfriend. She was still his. He refused to admit to anything less. He refused to let her slip through his fingers again. He would not survive it again. He was sure of that, at least.

Of course, now he was also questioning how much her pheromones did affect their relationship. At the very least, he was sure that he would not have gone so heavy at the beginning. He wouldn't have moved so fast, and then put on the breaks the way he had. He would have courted her, wooed her, gently, slowly, until he knew he had her full trust and heart.

....and now he had to question when he started to lie to himself. He knew damn well that there was no way he would have let Brooklyn walk the streets of New York without some brand of his ownership on her. Even now, knowing she was out there, somewhere, without his protection was eating at him.

If she would just talk to him...

He had never intended for her to go dark on him. He had not wanted to end their relationship. He had not wanted her to walk away from him like she had. Seeing how blank she had schooled her face when he had confirmed that maybe taking the time apart was a good idea... honestly, he had thought they were discussing the idea, not the actual implementation.

It wasn't until she had said she needed to go, that he had realized just how much of his foot had gone down his throat, that he had been sure he now knew what he knee tasted like. Seeing her frantically shoving items into her bag, before sitting on the bed and putting on her shoes, while parroting almost everything he was saying, with an almost high pitched chirpy voice, had scared him. He had tried to back track, to make her stay, if only so they could hash the specifics out. He had not intended her to leave his arms feeling like he was giving in to whatever... whatever she thought was going on.

Yes, finding out that Brooklyn was basically a walking talking lighting rod for male sexual activity was a bit startling, and a little bit more than alarming, but as he had time to think about it, looking back in the time he knew her, he began to realize that a lot of things made sense. All the men who approached her, out of the blue, they were drawn to someone that their hormones were telling them was the perfect mate. From the men at the club, to the man at that roadside Denny's, to the men at the grocery store, to that annoying neighbor who still hadn't clued into the fact that Brooklyn was Steve's, all of them, right down to the men at the Gala. To the way Morozov had felt free to touch her on Friday night. All of it, was explainable when you put the pheromones into the equation.