𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

𝐓𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝

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2.8k Words

To say you couldn't sleep was an understatement - you quite literally couldn't even close your eyes for the past few nights, the insomnia hitting hard. So naturally you decide to head down to the training room—to tire yourself out.

As you make your way down the stairs you can hear the distant thudding of fists against a punching bag and upon pushing the door slowly open, you're not surprised to be met with Steve...without punching gloves.

"Can't sleep either?" You spoke up, exposing your presence as you leaned on the the door frame with your arms crossed over your chest.

Steve flinched, the sound of your voice grabbing his attention as he turned around. He huffed softly, his chest rising and falling from the exertion he put himself under only moments before.

"Nope. Guess not..." he replied, a slight edge to his voice. He looked you up and down for a moment, watching quietly as you made your way inside. His eyes briefly flickering down to your arms as they rested across your chest.

While observing him, you couldn't help but notice the sweat that glossed his skin, strands of his golden hair becoming drenched as they clung to his forehead. You also noticed a few strands in the back, plastered to his neck.

"Looks like you've been at this for a while," you commented lowly, your eyes drifting over his bare hands.

Steve chuckled dryly, taking notice of your gaze. "Yeah...it's been a few hours. Couldn't keep my mind quiet."

His eyes watched as you took a few steps closer, your expression somewhat unreadable in the dim lighting. "Why don't you have your gloves on?" you questioned, tilting your head just slightly to the side.

Steve's gaze wandered away from yours for a moment, focusing on his hands, almost as if he had forgotten he'd taken the gloves off.

"Forgot to wear them, apparently..." he spoke in a gruff whisper, flexing his fingers. He hissed softly under his breath and you could see that his knuckles were almost red, the skin slightly torn in a few places.

"Steve..." You slowly made your way over to him, your eyes falling on the injuries on his knuckles. As you came to stand in front of him, your gaze slowly made its way upwards until it fell on his flushed face. "You're gonna damage your hands..." you gently chided, slowly reaching for one of his hands.

As you grabbed his hand, he didn't even attempt to pull away. He huffed silently as your fingers wrapped around his, slowly turning it to inspect the damage as you gently swiped your thumb across the slightly torn skin.

"Don't worry about it, it'll heal in a minute," he muttered half-heartedly, his gaze following as your thumb traced across his knuckles.

Your eyes slowly drifted back up to his face as you let out a soft scoff. "Yeah and then you're just gonna do it all over again, aren't you?" you retorted, your expression falling into a slight frown.

He fell silent at that, his hand twitching slightly as you continue to keep your touch gentle as to not hurt him. He let out a heavy sigh before he spoke, "Probably."

He watched as you went quiet for a moment, seemingly debating something in your head. He couldn't deny the way it made his chest feel tight when you were so close to him; your fingertips tracing over his sore skin gently.

You continued to stare at his hand for a few more moments before you spoke up again. "You're not supposed to be beating the bag without gloves, Steve." you said in almost a scolding manner, your eyes slowly lifting from his hand to his face again. "You'll hurt yourself."