I Thought You Were Different

The Plan

When you woke the next morning, Steve wasn't there; his side of the bed had already grown cold and the room was silent. Grabbing your phone, you found it to be much later than you usually slept, quickly shooting to wakefulness at your realization. But Clint hadn't been by to wake you for your therapy session as he had for the past several days...and now your curiosity was awake as well. You texted him with no reply, followed by a text to Steve, again finding silence as your only response.

"FRIDAY?"

"Yes, miss?"

"Could you locate Clint or Steve please?"

"Mr. Barton and Captain Rogers are in the gym, miss. Shall I call them for you?"

"No..." you sighed, hoping that they were at least having a civilized discussion, knowing that Steve was completely against Clint's methods of pushing you as he was. But if you didn't call one of them, getting out of bed was almost impossible. You looked at the wheelchair on the other side of the room, still unable to feel anything other than inadequacy when you saw it.

'You're an Avenger. That's who you are.' Clint's voice echoed in your head and you found a small smile crossing your lips, surprising you that he was succeeding in getting to you. You didn't mean to push back so hard, and you really did appreciate what he was trying to do, though you weren't quite ready to let him know that just yet. No need to let the guy know that he was winning.

"Okay," you mumbled, "no bitching, (Y/N). Just do this." With a deep breath and a renewed resolve that you hadn't felt in weeks, you sat up and pushed your legs to the side and over the edge of the bed. Getting safely to the floor would be the hardest part and likely not graceful at all. You straightened your legs and pushed up from the mattress, sliding your feet forward to lower yourself until you had to release the bed and drop onto your butt. "Well, that went better than I thought."

Getting to the chair was only a matter of determination and dragging yourself to it; once there it was all upper body strength to pull yourself up. "Dammit, Steve," you mumbled, realizing that no one was there to help you change your clothes. It wasn't his fault; he just wanted to let you sleep and probably didn't think beyond that. After a mostly successful trip to the bathroom you grabbed clothes that looked the easiest to change into, and cursed Clint Barton under your breath as you struggled. When you were done, all you could do was stare at what you had actually accomplished.

"Holy shit, I did it."

~~~

"You don't think she's gonna see it as pity, do you? I mean, I've wanted to do this for a long time, but now I'm worried that she'll think I just feel bad for her." Steve sat on a bench in the gym while Clint was lifting weights, spinning the ring that he and Tony had made for you around his finger as he stared at it like he was waiting for it to give him his answer. "Do you really think this is gonna be okay?"

"Cap, you're obsessing," Clint grunted, struggling slightly beneath the weights held above his chest. "Could you maybe spot me while you do it though?"

Steve quickly stood and grabbed the bar with his free hand, easily setting it back on the rack as if it weighed nothing and returning to his seat. "That's too much weight for you. I told you that."

"That's too much weight," Clint snickered, mocking Steve as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "Oh my god, Cap, stop staring at it. You're taking this too far."

Steve leaned back against the wall with a groan, rubbing his eyes and then pushing his hand through his messy hair. "You're right, I am. But isn't it warranted? You've seen it first-hand how she reacts when she thinks we're treating her differently."