In Your Eyes // Steve Rogers

25

Given that Wanda and Pietro had no use for a trip to the hangar, I directed them through a portal to the quinjet.

"There's a box of clothes there, if you two want to change into more comfortable clothing, I suppose," I offered, scratching my head, "Uh, I can grab a new pair of shoes for you, Sonic. Those look a little worn out."

"Do you own a size ten?" asked Pietro.

"Yeah, I can ask the boys," I said. I looked at Wanda, trying to give a helpful smile. "Can I get you anything?"

"No," she said.

Pietro kicked her ankle with his foot, widening his eyes slightly.

"No, thank you," corrected Wanda hesitantly.

"Then, I'll be back," I said.

I closed the portal to the quinjet. I hopped through another to the weapons hangar.

Barton swung by the bullet reloading station, casually leaning on the wall.

"So, Smiles is angry for once," he observed, "What happened?"

"Being on the Avengers isn't as rewarding as I thought it would be," I muttered.

"Because it doesn't feel like a team, right?"

Halting the process of attaching a gun holster on my thigh, I froze, narrowing my eyes in confusion.

"I had the same feeling last time we did this," he clarified, "It's hard to adjust to a new team. I'll give you that."

I nodded, staying silent to cease the conversation.

"Look, Steve told me about your panicky feeling of not having a detailed plan," said Barton, tired of beating around the bush. Our eyes locked, his appearing bored."Well, here's your plan for this mission: kill anything metal, excluding Tony, this time, and save anyone who needs saving."

His words of wisdom made sense. I despised his self-proclaimed duty to engage in a pep talk, as if it was my first fight.

Burying my annoyance deep inside, I flashed a polite smile, trying desperately to clear my head.

If I was going to make it back from Sokovia alive, I needed peace within myself. More importantly, I needed to find peace with my team mates.

Hopping through a portal into the quinjet, I found Barton and I were the last to arrive, with ten seconds left on the timer.

"Almost didn't make it," noted Tony, "Thought you were gonna back out."

I inhaled a deep breath, mentally dismissing the flicker of anger that rose within me.

Peace with my team, I reminded myself, Pull through for today.

I took a seat beside Pietro, placing a pair of sneakers into his lap. Leaning closer, I whispered, "Be quiet about it. I stole them from Barton's room."

Pietro allowed a smirk to curl his lips. "Ah, yes, the old man."

Steve took the seat on my right, unintentionally stopping myself from inquiring about Pietro's nickname for Barton. His hand reached for mine, waiting for my consent. I slipped my fingers into the holes of his hands.

In ten minutes, the previous silence of the quinjet changed, when Bruce and Tony started to speak.

Remaining hushed, Pietro and Wanda spoke together.

"It was my insistence that guilted you into joining in the first place."

Suddenly, the public display of affection between Steve and I made sense. Steve held my hand as a sign of admittance. He believed my thought to quit the team started with him, hence his affection, which was leading to an apology.

"You have to stop blaming yourself for my decisions. Please. You have no part in why I'm thinking about leaving," I told him.

Steve stuttered, sorting through his brain to find another logical reason for the blame to be placed on himself.

In all honesty, I didn't think he was feeling guilty. As I was fearing myself, I thought Steve was afraid of losing my presence in his everyday life. Our personal lives were crossing paths constantly, since our locations were practically always in the Tower. Our real work had just started to intertwine again, and within a few days of testing the slight change, I wanted to opt out.

Without having to say it, our minds went to the same place of doubt. If our jobs stopped sharing the same HQ, there was a chance our personal lives could veer off to different paths.

"Even if I do choose to leave, our Friday night date nights will still happen," I promised, trying to redirect our conversation.

Succeeding in doing so, Steve said, "You know, today is a Friday."

"If we're done saving the world by seven o'clock, do you want to grab a bite to eat?" I wondered, a playful smile on my lips.

Steve's eyes flickered from mine as he chuckled, a genuine laugh escaping his lips. "Clara, it would be my pleasure," he agreed.

His eyes scanned the quinjet, ensuring no eyes were on us, before he snuck a kiss on my cheek.

"Now, I think it's time for a speech," he told me.

"Oh, yay," I said, "I get to hear one of your speeches. Sam said the last one was great.

"Avengers," called Steve, his voice changing from a gentle tone to one of authority, "Clara has something to say."

My lips split, face expressionless, I stared at Steve in utter betrayal.

"Go on," he said, smirking, "You've got the attention."

Huffing, I stood from my seat, shuffling to a point in the quinjet for my voice to clearly be heard.

"I'll start this as a majority of my school speeches started, with a fair warning that this will probably be horrendous. I get nervous very easily when the attention is on me, and I start to ramble and it's really--" I paused.

The cringe on Steve's face showed his regret for allowing me to publicly speak. It also alerted me to the start of my uncomfortable rambling, which successfully caused most of the team to avert their eyes. Fortunately, their secondhand embarrassment scored me a few moments to think of inspiring words.

Steve cleared his throat, drawing my attention. His lips were mouthing words that I ignored, my focus on his hand over his heart. Unintentionally, he delivered inspiration for my speech. Driven by truth, coming from my heart, I let my brain make up words as I went.

"The Avengers is extremely different from what I thought it would be. From the outside, it looks like a group of extraordinary individuals who came together because of their proclaimed duty to save the world. Maybe bonding over saving the world was supposed to make you all a team when you first came together. If you haven't noticed by now, it didn't. We're a team because we're pushing our differences, our arguments, aside to fix a mistake together. Granted, we're the only ones capable of fixing this mistake, but the big point is that we're doing it together. That's the only way a team works. Mistakes have been made by everyone on this team, whether it's been during our time together, or not."

I took a chance and glanced at Steve. He watched me proudly, one corner of his lips raised. Releasing a tense sigh, the panic about the quality of my speech disappeared with our brief exchange.

Drawing inspiration from the man I deeply admired, I finished my speech with the words he told me: "Each and every one of you-- your actions from here on out define you. Your past mistakes do not."

"This isn't about beating Ultron," added Steve, standing from his seat, "He called us monsters; told us that we're what's wrong with the world. What matters is whether he's right."