Monster

Six

I paced back and forth in my living room while waiting for Rogers to arrive. I'd spent most of the afternoon furiously scrubbing the place clean again just to keep my mind from wandering. I hadn't seen him all week, and the only contact I'd had was the one brief visit from Sam and a few texts from Romanoff.

Her plan was that we had to act like a couple whenever we were in front of doors or windows. She came up with a story to tell, but I pointed out it would probably be best to stick as close to the truth as possible. I doubted Barnes would be asking me questions at all, let alone asking about our relationship. He could come to his own conclusions about how we met and why we didn't act like we were in love.

We just needed an explanation for him to be at my house a few nights a week. His own apartment was wrecked when Director Fury was assassinated, and his new place was under surveillance. So he would have to come by periodically, and we'd have to sell the story.

I was anxious because I didn't know if I could. Romanoff wanted us to share a bed, but I wasn't sure I was okay with that. I doubted Rogers would try and feel me up. And I knew Barnes probably wasn't going to sneak in in the middle of the night to watch us sleep. So I didn't think it mattered if he slept in the spare bedroom or not.

Rogers was known for being somewhat punctual, and the minutes were ticking toward his expected arrival. I twisted my fingers as I paced the living room. Before this night, it was unlikely Barnes knew I existed. He might have seen me at the diner if he followed Wilson, but I didn't think it was likely. And he wouldn't have gotten much from that meeting except that we sat at a booth and talked for a few minutes.

The doorbell rang at nine o' four. I already knew he was there since I'd heard his motorcycle on the street. Still, I decided not to answer until I had confirmation that it was him. I took a deep breath and shook out my hands before approaching the door. I had taken drama for a semester in high school. I was bad at it, and nothing ever came of that short interest, but I was at least familiar with the concept of acting.

The Jo Hayes who was going to open that door was supposed to be kind and gentle and incredibly non-threatening. Not the kind of woman who was fascinated by specialty knives and once killed multiple men in one single move. I didn't even know enough about Rogers to know if I was his type. What if he didn't even like brunettes? I cracked my neck and opened the door, pretending to be comfortable and not the least bit awkward or nervous.

He was standing on the polka-dot welcome mat, looking as uncomfortable as I felt beneath the porch light. I suddenly couldn't remember what Romanoff told me to say. All I knew was that it all sounded too false. Rogers was a stranger to me. His smile was forced, like he didn't want to be there, but he was willing to play this game if it meant he could get his friend back.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," I replied.

There was another moment of awkward silence where I wondered what Romanoff's version of me would say. Would she let him in or stand and talk for a minute?

"I'm sorry for coming by so late. And not calling first." I nodded slowly. I hoped Barnes (or Stark) wasn't listening. Or that he just didn't remember Steve well enough to realize how fucking uncomfortable he was being. How unfamiliar we were with each other.

"It's okay," I said, holding onto the door.

He nodded and looked around at the front yard and the quiet neighborhood. The sun had set, but the light still lingered. Houses were lit, but most people were already home. The streetlights were on, but the small residential street was full of shadows.

"Can we talk inside?" he asked. I was grateful for the chance to end this and quickly jumped out of the way. Probably too quickly.

"Please. Come in." He moved to pass me. "I'm dying," I whispered, and I finally got a genuine smile in response.

"That makes two of us," he said as I shut and locked the doors. I turned back to him and slapped my hands on my thighs.

"Well–I'm glad that's over. Water? Tea? I feel like that's something my alter-ego would offer."

"Uh–sure."

He stepped back so I could lead him to the kitchen.