Overview: Sam and Sarah step in. (This would take place sometime after 'Thought about it'. Yelena is away on a mission, so y/n is left with her thoughts. It's going to be a rough one, so buckle in.)
Word count: 3,645
Warnings: Mention of substance abuse, mention of violence, brief mention of suicidal thoughts, angst, mourning.
*****
There she was. For the second night in two weeks. Stood in the doorway of Sarah's place. Soaked through from the rain, covered in blood that wasn't hers, and stinking of alcohol.
Sarah didn't even have any time to react. She didn't have time to slam the door before y/n let herself in. She trailed straight into the bathroom, just like she had last week, leaving sopping footprints and a bloody handprint on the door.
Sarah had a face of thunder. The front door was still open, allowing the heavy downpour outside to slowly creep its way in. Eyes of pure fire, burning a hole straight through her brother. She was more than angry. "You said that it was a one-time thing." She snapped, her voice hoarse from just waking up.
Sam's mouth hung open, unsure of what to say. He knew that he was supposed to be on his sister's side, but it was hard, especially after everything he'd seen y/n go through. His mouth quickly snapped shut as he caught the scorching look in Sarah's eyes, realising that he'd been quiet for too long. Y/n was his friend. At this moment, he was responsible for her.
"I know, I-" He sighed, his sentence cutting off due to the sound of something falling in the bathroom. "I thought it was. Can you please shut the door?" He asked in an almost begging tone. They already had wet footprints in the house, dealing with a puddle of rainwater wasn't going to help.
Sarah complied, shutting and locking the front door. She flipped the switch for the main light, and her anger just seemed to build at the sight of the bloody handprint on the white bathroom door. "It's two in the morning, Samuel! On a weekday!" She hissed, keeping her voice low in a desperate attempt not to wake the kids. "The boys have school, I have work. I can't have a violent drunkard in my house-"
"Hey, that's not fair." Sam interrupted, not liking the harsh tone she used to describe y/n. However, before he could start to argue with his sister, a few more loud crashes were heard from the bathroom. No smashes, just objects dropping to the ground and, possibly (but hopefully not), breaking. He closed his eyes in disappointment, pinching the bridge of his nose as he listened to y/n curse to herself.
He didn't even need to look at Sarah to know that she was ready to boil over at any moment. Y/n was his responsibility. He had to check on her, so he did. One hand wrapped around the doorknob, the other gently knocking - he had to be conscious of his nephews. God, if they woke up, Sarah would never speak to him again. "Y/n? Do you want me to help clean you up?"
"No. Natasha could do it by herself. So can I." Y/n responded, her voice a mixture of anger and misery. No slurring of words. She was mimicking the super soldier serum to try and push the alcohol down.
Sarah didn't seem phased by the sound of y/n's voice. Hell, it just seemed to fuel the fire in her stomach. "I'm going in." She said in a serious tone, disappearing into the kitchen so that she could find the master key. That key could unlock any door in the house. It sounded like a violation of privacy, but Sarah didn't care about walking in on the drunkard in the bathroom.
YOU ARE READING
The Mimic - One-Shots
FanfictionA one-shot book to be filled with snippets that weren't included in the original book! Maybe there are missions you want to see, or dynamics you want to see more of, it's all up to you! Non-canon interactions are also accepted if you'd like Mimic to...
