Mister Rogers ⍟ || Steve Rogers

19

Bruce offered to explain in the Lab, so everyone who needed it could get medical treatment.

Mumbling to himself, Bruce paced across the room a few times before hurrying off to the Lab, the rest of the team hot on his trail. Steve and I fell behind.

I took a step to follow and let out a quiet, pained gasp, clutching onto Steve. He steadied me with a single hand.

"I'm alright," I insisted. "Just some pain in my foot."

After declining his help only once, he was finished with my act of refusal. He scoffed, tightening his arm around me, guiding me to take a step.

I found myself slightly irritated with Steve, but I had no choice other than to accept his help. On top of my injury, my head was spinning from the exhaustion of my powers. As always, he saw right through me.

Steve left my side unexpectedly. I stumbled for a moment before steadying myself on one foot. He returned from the direction of the bar with a bottle of cold water. He extended it to me.

I took it from him wordlessly. As he tried to walk with me again, I stayed put, not finished with my act of refusal. At this moment, more important to me than my well-being was getting my point across to Steve.

"Remember when I said I didn't want to join the team because I knew you would be distracted by me?" I said, my annoyance clear in my tone.

"You're injured, to the point where you can't walk," he argued. "I'm not going to ignore an injured team member."

He had found a good counter-argument, but I wasn't ready to back down. My irritation quickly turned into determination to prove my independence to Steve.

Gently, I pushed his hands off of my waist, "As Elton John once sang, 'I'm still standing.'"

The reference went straight over his head. My attitude did not. Steve shook his head, "Addy, just let me help you get to the Lab and we'll let Bruce take a look at your--"

"I will get there on my own," I said.

I took a step, without looking, and tripped over a discarded pillow Tony had thrown during the fight earlier. Within distance, Steve lunged for me.

"You sure about that?" he wondered, his raised eyebrow and slight smirk enough to tell me he was thrilled to have won our altercation. He leaned down slightly to wrap an arm around my waist.

Defeated, I brought my arm over his neck. I muttered, "Just help me along, Mister Rogers."

A section of the lab bench was cleared for Steve and I. He took my hips and placed me on the edge of the metal table. Exchanging a nod to ensure I was alright, Steve crossed his arms over his chest and rested his back against the bench.

Bruce helped me gather medical supplies to remove the glass from my foot. I assured him I could do it myself. Steve listened in, less convinced. His eyes stayed trained on me, ensuring I did no further damage to my foot with the tweezers.

Seeing that the full team was assembled, Bruce rubbed his hands together nervously, knowing he was about to present news nobody wanted to hear, "Ultron cleared out. He used the internet as an escape hatch."

"Ultron," breathed Steve to himself.

Natasha looked up from the paperwork in her hands, "He's been in everything. Files, surveillance. Probably knows more about us than we know about each other."

"He's in your files, he's in the internet. What if he decides to access something a little more exciting?" asked Rhodey.

"Nuclear codes?" I offered.