Mister Rogers ⍟ || Steve Rogers

XI. On the Bright Side

It was hard to stray my mind from thoughts of him. The realness of it all hadn't hit me yet and I was in no shape ready for it to.

After every mission, I find it hard not to think about what could have happened. To me, there is always a better way things could have gone. Steve was the one to usually keep me in check with these things, he always kept everything real: what happened, happened.

At the sound of distant screaming from frightened civilians, I stood. It was our mess that harmed people. Even if we had saved the world, it was up to us to mend the chaos we caused.

I walked along the coastline tiredly, my head spinning from the overuse of my abilities and the wreckage along the shore. I had to look carefully at the ground to prevent myself from tripping over debris. It didn't work.

I fell flat on my face. I was tempted to just lay there until curiosity gave me the energy to pull myself up and discover what I had tripped over; the most important piece of washed up wreckage in the Potomac: Steve Rogers himself.

Immediately I kneeled at his side, bringing two of my fingers to the side of his neck and lowering my ear to his mouth. A slow, steady beat was felt under my fingers.

Using my thumb, I gently pushed on his chin, opening his mouth for an airway. I listened again and heard a faint puffing of air. I brought my hand up to my earpiece, "Sam? Maria? Natasha? Whoever's listening: I found Steve. I have him right here with me."

"Is he alive?" Came Sam's cautious voice.

Tears brimmed my eyes as I smiled, "Yeah. Yeah, Sam, he is."

"Is he in need of medical attention?" Asked Natasha.

"Dire," I responded, running my fingers through his blonde hair.

"We've got your coordinates, coming to you now," said Maria.

-

For the past seventy two hours, I had sat in an uncomfortable chair at Steve's bedside, watching him silently all day. The doctors said he would be perfectly fine in time. It didn't help my worry. With no movement in three days, the chance that he would never wake lingered in the back of my mind.

On the fourth morning, I sat in the chair, staring at the floor, brushing my teeth mindlessly. Living in the hospital wasn't a good look on me. Since I arrived I hadn't changed out of my grey sweatpants and black long sleeve shirt. I wore my hair in a loose braid most of the time, taking it out and braiding it again to pass the time. Cold showers under the dim hospital light didn't make things any less miserable either.

I snapped my head towards the door as it opened. Sam entered the room, holding a Taco Bell bag in one hand and his phone which played "Trouble Man" in the other.

"There's only three things, that's for sure," he sang, pointing his phone at me expectingly, as if it were a microphone.

With a grin, I removed my toothbrush from my mouth. I sang back, "Taxes, death, and trouble."

He placed his phone on Steve's bed, lowering the volume of his music before taking a seat in the chair beside me.

I snatched the Taco Bell bag from his hands, reaching in and pulling out a napkin. I tossed my toothbrush on the table beside Steve's bed and used the napkin to wipe the toothpaste from around my mouth. I let the smell of unhealthy fast-food fill the room and closed my eyes, "Sam, you are a saint."

"Oh, how I've missed hearing that accent," said Sam, laughing at the blush on my cheeks he caused, "How are you two doing?"

"Still alive, so pretty good I think," I smiled.

Sam took the bag back from me and pulled out a burrito for himself. He handed the bag back to me and I pulled out a chicken quesadilla.

"How did you know? These are my favorite!" I exclaimed excitedly, unwrapping the delicacy in my hands.

"Let's just say Natasha's tired of you eating during debriefings," Sam raised his eyebrows and pointed his burrito at me, drawing a giggle from my lips.

We ate in silence for a few minutes, appreciating each other's presence. Being halfway done with my quesadilla, I looked at Sam, "Okay, switch."

He passed me his burrito and took my quesadilla in return. At the same time, we both took a bite. With an approving nod, we traded back our meals again.

I laid my phone on my lap and resumed my Netflix show, watching intently as Meredith removed a bomb from someone's body.

"Addy?"

My finger hit the pause button immediately. Slowly, I brought my head up, allowing my eyes to reach the hospital bed.

Steve had spoken to me. His eyes squinted at me, adjusting to the fluorescent lights above. The corner of his lips raised slightly into a tired smile.

I stood up, placing my phone and quarter of a quesadilla on the chair. I stepped to his side, instinctively sliding my fingers into his warm palm.

"Steve," I breathed.

"That's a first," he whispered.

I furrowed my brow.

"You calling me Steve."

"Well, I think your near death gives me a reason," I smiled, tilting my head.

He nodded, "As for the mission, did we..."

"Yes, everything is fine. Natasha's dealing with some public backlash but I mean," I exhaled proudly, "we saved the world."

"Yeah," he breathed, "We did. And I look forward to see what else we can achieve together in the future."

I paused, biting my lip to prevent a wide grin from taking over my face. "Is that your way of saying we're going to be seeing each other more after this?"

"That's my way of saying we're hopefully going to be seeing each other a lot after this," corrected Steve, offering a warm smile, "Besides, I still have to take you on that date."

He chuckled at the pinkness he had caused in my cheeks. We stayed, staring into each other's eyes for a moment, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. Completely entranced in one another, a sneeze from Sam reminded us from his presence, causing us to flinch.

"Bless you," we chorused shyly.

"Damn allergies interrupting adorable moments between you two," cursed Sam. He angrily snatched a tissue from the tissue box beside him.

Sam's diverted attention brought my focus to Steve and I's interlaced hands. I tried to let go, fearing he didn't want Sam to see. Steve squeezed tighter, a silent reassurance that he was content.

Steve cleared his throat, "What have you been up to since..." he trailed off, unsure of what to call the situation.

"I've been running, relaxing," Sam nodded at me, "Sunny's been here since day one."

"Sunny?" Asked Steve.

Sam explained the nickname. My abilities being light manipulation, Sam had begun associating me with things that glow. When "night-light" and "glow-stick" were immediately shut down by me, "Sunny" started to stick.

"It's basically just the end of her name. Addy-son," Sam emphasized, "But just look at her smile, it's as bright as the sun."

"Oh, Sam stop it," I laughed, rolling my eyes.

"He's not wrong though," Steve said quietly.

I scrunched my nose and smiled down at him appreciatively, "This is going straight to my ego, you know."

Sam placed his hand on my shoulder, "Don't worry Sunny, say the word and I'll humble you just as fast."