Humor Me (Steve Rogers fanfiction)

Chapter 16

I wake up with a sharp pain behind my eyes, so I don't open them right away. I just feel like my spirit is being pushed back into my body.

How long have I been out? The last thing I remember is talking to Rogers in the kitchen and then crashing to the floor like a complete idiot. I think he was calling out my name, but my brain is foggy on that one.

Is this an inappropriate time to notice I love it when he says my name? Probably. But I do.

Another memory floods my brain. Us in the conference room. Me completely snapping in front of everyone. Basically telling Sam, Nat and Bucky that I let Steve fuck me. Great. He will probably want to talk about that soon.

I sigh and open my eyes at last. The room luckily, is not that bright. It's my room. I relax. The sheer curtains are pulled shut. It's probably either the morning or late afternoon. Or it's just not as bright out today.

I blink a few times and try to feel how my body is doing. I'm sore. Really sore.

That's most likely the fault of the bad guys and Rumlow's grenade.

I pull up my hand to get some strands of hair out of my face, when I notice it's completely bandaged up. Images of the glass shattering on the kitchen floor flash before my eyes.

Riiight. I feel right into the broken glass. I flex my leg to feel my knees. Yep, definitely bandaged. So my right and and both my knees are wrapped up.

I take a look at my left and and jump out of my skin, when I see Rogers on the left side of my room leaning against my closetdoor.

„Jesus fucking Christ." I blurt out.

„Almost." He says, pushing himself away from the door and taking the few steps he needs to reach my bed. I push myself up. That was a mistake. The pain behind my eyes sends me right back into my sheets.

„I'm not really up for a lecture now." I say while massaging my eyes with my fingers. I can hear him pulling in a chair and sitting down on it. I glance at him. His eyes rest on me.

„You really think I'm a horrible person, don't you?" I can't sense the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice. He seems to be sincere.

I take an extra pillow and put it under my head, so it's easier for me to look at him while we talk.

„You sometimes give me no other choice." I reply. For example when he gives me crap about my parents. Or when he causes me panic attacks in hospitals.

A sigh escapes his perfect lips.

„I'm sorry." I'm thrown off by his sincerity.

„What?" I ask, giving off a very intelligent vibe – that's for sure.

„I never actually apologised for not taking you on that mission." He looks back at me. Those steel blue eyes seem so warm all of a sudden. Maybe I should faint more often if it means Captain America admits he's wrong. „So I'm sorry." he repeats.

„Thank you, Steve." I say – myself, dropping the sarcasm. I really appreciate his apology.

A smile finds his eyes and lips.

„What? No sly comment?" his eyebrows lift. Now it's my turn to let out a sigh, but it's more a hidden laugh.

„You must have really stunned me there." I answer. Steve breathes out a quiet laugh. My heart starts beating faster. God. That's what it feels like to see him happy? I could get used to that, instead of fighting all the time.

Then the illusions pops like a bubble before my very eyes, when his face gets serious again.

„About your parents..." he begins.