Steve Rogers One Shots

It's All My Fault

The pasta boiled under the the clear lid while cheesy sauce simmered in another pan. Steve was supposed to come home today after a week-long mission, so you were preparing an Italian dinner for the night. Hopefully to celebrate. You now ride down in the elevator while pleasantly conversing with Jarvis, the steaming dinner in hand.

"When do you think they'll be back?"

"Mr. Stark has informed me that the team and he are approximately 10 minutes away."

"Any idea on the status of the mission?"

"None, though Mr. Stark did sound a bit...dejected."

"Oh..." You look down at the dinner in dismay. Hopefully Steve wasn't in too bad of a mood. He might skip dinner again.

"I'm sure Captain Rogers will enjoy you're dinner, Ma'am. They are 7 minutes away."

You chuckle. "Thanks, Jarvis. Tell me when they reach so I can meet them."

"Alright, Ma'am. Have a good night."

"You too."

You walk onto your floor where the view of New York spans one wall and the doors to your private quarters another. You place the steamy meal on the coffee table before popping into your room to clean up the minimal disarray.

When you've made the bed and moved around the books on your desk over and over in impatience, Jarvis pipes up.

"Ma'am, the team has just arrived."

"Great! I'll go-"

"Actually, Captain Rogers wants to meet you in your quarters. He's coming down now."

You're startled at the announcement. Why was Steve meeting you down here? "Okay. Just make sure that the rest of the team knows that there's pasta on the stove if they're hungry."

"Will do, Ma'am."

So you open the door to see Steve walking out of the elevator, full uniform and everything. His helmet is still buckled under his chin and shield in hand, his mouth set in a grimace.

"Hey Steve." You smile up at him. He looks up and gives you a ghost of a smile before dumping his shield, boots, and helmet in a corner. His hands are curled into fists when he sits down, then relax to cradle his head. He lets out a deep breath and mumbles something.

"What's wrong?" Steve looks up at you with the expression of a wounded animal, and your grin drops. You walk over and pull his head to your shoulder. His arms automatically curl around you, his body pushing you over so he's on top of you. "Mission didn't go well, huh?"

He shakes his head. "It was supposed to be quick. In and out operation. Turns out the target blew up a building near by after the deal. He knew our cover." His voice slowly dies down throughout the statement, his head burying farther down into your shoulder.

"It's not your fault Steve. He sprung one on y-"

"He took out a school." He lifts himself up and buries his head into his hands, his form shaking like a leaf. You drop your hands into your lap and look at him with your mouth open in disgust.

"A school! The bastard took out a-" Steve looks up at you with a hurricane in his eyes. They've gone dark with anger, hatred, helplessness, and...

Guilt.

"Steve, let's get one thing straight, it's not your-"

"I was the one to scope out the area! I had to check for any explosives and make sure the block was secure. It was all on me!" He stands up and paces, his outburst leaving his face flushed and his eyes watering.