Something Different

13: I've Got a Feeling About This One

"Looks like your serum is working wonders, Y/n." Bruce remarked, removing some of the stitches during his checkup this morning. "It'll probably be gone by Sunday..."

Most of the wounds healed nicely; light scabbing, slightly pinker skin– honestly you couldn't even tell it was there to begin with. But the one on my stomach...

Bruce spent a little more time examining that one, trying his best to mask his worry with a poker face of a child. By this time, wounds of this caliber would have healed just the same as the rest.,

"Give it some time, it's a little shy." I joked, injecting the biggest possible amount of optimism in my voice.

He simply smiles, although it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I guess we still gotta work on it a little more huh?" He chuckles, and I shake my head.

"Alright, well you're good to go then." finishing before sending me on my way. "Oh, Y/n?" he calls out, as I near the door. "Uhm– be careful, please" he whispers the last bit, warmly smiling as I threw a thumbs up and left the medbay.

The living room, which is normally packed during these hours, only contained a single visitor. "Heyo stars and stripes!" I greeted Steve, who sat by the reading chair near the window.

"Oh, good morning Y/n." He replied without the usual cheeriness in his voice. His face was in a constant balance between anger and confusion, staring out into the city lost in thought.

I quickly brewed us some coffee before sitting opposite him. "You alright?" I asked, taking a sip from the mug.

Steve stares out into the city, tracing his cup's rim with his index. After a while, he takes a deep breath, looks toward me, and forces a smile. "I'll be fine."

Humming, I raise my brow and he quickly relents, reaching behind him for a worn, red leather notebook with a black star engraved at its center.

"Is that?" I murmur, as he places it gently on the table; his eyes swelling as he motions for me to read through it.

The notebook was mostly in Russian, some with pictures of their methodology or people. But the few parts I could understand were instructions for a sleeper-agent program and a Hydra base in Siberia housing "The Winter Soldier?" I finish out loud.

"Bucky," Steve muttered, sighing. "I gave up. All these years I thought he was dead." his voice was full of regret as he drank from his mug.

"I'm sorry" I console. Steve waves it off, staring into his coffee cup. "Hey, at least now we know he's alive?"

He peered upwards and gave a crooked smile, to which I simply responded with a shrug and a nervous chuckle. Whatever it was it seemed to work, and Steve chuckled; buckling over so his elbows prop him up on his knees while choked sobs slowly rose through his throat.

"We'll get him back, I promise," I affirmed, leaning forward and momentarily resting my hand on his.

Whatever was on Steve's mind eased off, his eyes softening and the wrinkles on his face smoothening out. There was no use wallowing in the could haves or what ifs of the past; and he knew that, but the occasional reminder that everything would turn out okay was always welcome.

He nodded, eyes lightly glazing over. "Thank you, Y/n." letting out a long breath to collect himself.

His shoulders relaxed, "You attending the party later?" leaning back against his seat.

"I think I have to or else Stark'll fire me," drinking the last of my coffee before washing it in the sink

Steve laughs, placing the notebook down on the counter as I look at him with furrowed brows. "I think you and Romanoff would be better suited for this assignment," he winked before turning around towards the door.