Humor Me (Steve Rogers fanfiction)

Chapter 33

I walk out of the bathroom after taking a shower, just to see Steve standing in front of the window of my parent's old bedroom. He's wearing a gown and so am I. My mom put one of these in every bathroom, for guests when they come over.

"How do I look?" I ask. Steve turns around and I do a twirl for him, presenting my beige gown. When I look back at him he smiles.

"Adorable."

I laugh and Steve joins in after a short while.

"Gosh, I love it when you laugh." he says. My throat tightens at the love in his words and in his eyes. I really feel loved by him. And it's the best feeling ever.

"You're making me blush, Rogers." I press my lips together in an attempt to hide my smile, but it's not working. He just returns my gaze and smiles at me. "What are you thinking about?"

I make my way over to the bed and sit down. Steve joins me, by laying down on the other side of the bed.

"Oh, you know just about how nice and soft these gowns are."

I laugh again. "Yes, my mom loved nice things. Especially nice fabrics. Luxurious gowns are only the beginning."

"Tell me about her." Steve says and his eyes are so soft I might just melt. Him showing interest in my life is so totally new to me I should be caught off guard but it's like I've been waiting my whole life to tell someone about my mom.

 I now turn so that I am sitting cross-legged on the mattress in front of him.

"She was very beautiful." Is the first thing I say. "Everyone thought so, but she never realised it I think. She could make conversations stop only by entering the room."

"That reminds me of someone." My cheeks heat at Steve's words, so I just smile a little and continue on.

"She was also very caring and the most excellent baker." Steve smiles a little at my words while keeping his eyes on mine. "She taught me that."

"I never thought you could bake." Steve says with a little smirk dancing on his lips.

But it's true. My mother taught me how to bake from a very young age. No matter whether sweet or salty. As long as there's an oven involved, I can do it.

"Well, I haven't baked since I was 11." Steve gives me an understanding nod.

"My father taught me how to cook, you know." Steve in the kitchen, cooking me dinner sends a swarm of butterflies through my stomach. I bite my lip.

"Really? Captain America, a cook?"

"I'm full of surprises honey." He says and I laugh.

"I'm counting on it."

---------------------

I'm back.

No!

I can't be back.

I got out.

Steve got me out.

Sam was there?

Weren't they?

The serum.

There's so much pain. Make it stop.

Please!

Somebody make it stop!

I'm in that chair. The chair I was in when Steve saved me.

But he didn't. I'm still here.

I have to leave.

Ivy.

Steve didn't save me.

Where is Sam?

Is Bucky there?

Ivy wake up!

Get me out of here.

I need you to wake up Ivy!

I shoot up straight in my bed. Where the fuck am I? What happened? Was it all just a dream? Did they actually not save me?

I search the room. Where am I? This place looks and feels so familiar. It's a cabin. I'm at my parents' cabin. Am I alone?

I find the ocean. Formed into some beyond worried eyes, looking at me.

"Steve?" I try to calm my breathing, but my lungs pump oxygen into my body in recurring bursts.

Steve wraps his arms around me and holds me tight. One hand glides into my hair. I feel like I'm in a cocoon. I feel save. Protected. And the pressure on my chest eventually helps calm my breathing.

"I'm here." he whispers in my ear before letting me go. His eyes find mine. I must still look like a panicked rabbit, because he takes my face into both his hands and locks his gaze on mine. 

"We're still at the cabin. You're safe, Ivy." He presses a kiss to my forehead and his lips linger there for a moment. I hook my fingers around his wrists while he's still holding my head and breathe in his warmth. My heartbeat finally seems to settle a bit.

"You had a nightmare, didn't you?" he asks, while resting his forehead against mine. I nod. "Are you okay?" I nod again.

He releases his forehead from mine and looks me firmly in the eyes again.

"You sure? You were just kicking and screaming as if the devil himself were after you." I swallow. He was. He was after me. "I've never seen you so anxious."

I lick my lips. I never had a nightmare in front of him before. Having him beside me normally holds back those dreams.

That's when I notice him wearing a white shirt and pants. we both did fall asleep in our gowns earlier.

"Where did you go Steve? Why weren't you here?" Against my will I can feel tears sting in my eyes. And I hate it. I hate every last part of it. Being so vulnerable. Being so lost and dependant.

"Hey, hey, hey. I'm sorry." He takes my hands in his and kisses them slowly. I catch my breath again. "I'm so sorry?"

"What were you doing?" I ask. I'm trying not to sound too accusatory but I don't think it's really working. I have no right to accuse him of anything, I know that.

"I was talking to Sam." he says. Hearing my best friend's name sends an ache through my heart.

"Sam?" I continue with the questions. I don't know why I am so curious but Steve gives off a weird vibe. Why would he need to talk to Sam in the middle of the fucking night?

Steve's eyes grow wary as he looks at me. My heart instantly starts raising because I know that look. He looks guilty. What did he do? What's going to happen now?

I put up a wall to protect myself from whatever he's going to say now, but what he tells me makes the whole thing crumble down in pieces. Because it's the last thing I expected to hear.

"Sharon woke up."