Humor Me (Steve Rogers fanfiction)

Chapter 17 🌶️

When I wake up the next day, I made my decision. My body isn't aching that much anymore. I just feel a little tiredness in my joints. But my head seems to be fine.

That is, until I try to stand up and it sends me right back onto my mattress. Jesus. I close my eyes until the world around me stops spinning.

„Slowly, Morris." I remind myself when I try to get back up. That's better. My body just needs to adjust to the change in position.

I hit the shower.

In my head, there is only one way to stop the guys from fucking trying to fucking help me. And that is just go solo.

Now while this may seem stupid and like a suicide mission, it probably is. But I'm a damn well trained agent. One of the best in my field. If anyone – besides a darn super soldier – can take down a room full of Hydra assets, it's me.

I haven't told any of the guys or Nat this, but I actually found something in the data I stole from that first mission I was on with Rogers. Since Hydra is now determined to kill me, if I don't give back their data, I might as well use it before they do. Because I sure as hell ain't giving it back.

While the hot water runs through my hair and over my body, it washes away all the trauma from the last few days. Every punch I took, every explosion that hit me and every kiss that carressed my skin.

Since there is now a very high probability that I am running straight into the arms of the enemy without a return ticket, I feel myself already missing my banter with the Captain. And missing his body on mine.

How can you miss, what you only experienced once? Well apparently it's possible.

I close my eyes, put my face under water and turn the shower to cold.

I don't even flinch, when the icyness hits me. I really need to cool off. I need to be thinking clear if I'm gonna pull this off.

In my datafiles I found the location of the so called Powerbroker. If you ask me, they seem like a pretty big shot to me. So why not start there? I can definitely take down a being calling themselves the Powerbroker. It sounds ridiculous if you ask me.

After I get out of the shower and dry myself off, I put on some sweats and leave my room. My feet bring me down the stairs and right down the hall to the suit room. I walk on cat feet, in hopes that nobody catches me on my mission.

Since the last fight – especially the explosion at the end – completely distroyed my fighting gear, I had to get a new one from the compounds supply. They usually keep some extras there.

I find what looks to be a modified Black Widow suit. It's all black, like Natasha's signature look, but the red sign is nowhere to be found on it. The material looks to be a very robust, honeycomb-style fabric. There are a few leather stripes placed around the waist, on the arms, the back and the legs. Probably for more stabilisation and also fashionability. The knees are patted and so are the elbows.

I take it off the stand. It looks like it would fit me, so I push aside any doubt and drob my sweats.

The suit glides on like butter.

„Oh come on, you made this for me." I mumble as I zip up the zipper that reaches from the lower belly all the way to right above my boobs.

I see the fitting leather boots and put them on also.

„Who are you kidding? Nat and I don't have the same shoe size." I say to myself as the boots glide over my feet perfectly. This suit was not made for our very own Black Widow. This was developed for me. I can't help but wonder if Sam made that happen and why. And I also can't help the sting I feel in my heart at the thought of him. Am I just completely abandonning the only family I have left?