I Thought You Were Different: Part 3

Scoldings

You woke the next morning like you had done so many times before; in Steve's arms, burning hot because he couldn't keep his furnace-like metabolism on his own side of the bed, the light of day peeking through the curtains just enough to pierce through your closed lids and force you awake. For just a split second, you forgot where you were, jolting up from his grip in a flash of panic. It had happened every day that you were gone after you were allowed control of your own mind again, and you had hoped that being in your own home would have spared you this. When you rested your head to your pillow last night, and Steve's arms were holding you with a resolve to not let you go, you had believed that the paralyzing fear would be gone.

"Hey, what happened?"

Shallow and rapid breaths were your only reply while you tried to bring yourself back into reality and not the sick joke that your mind was playing on you. "I'm home, I'm home...I'm home," you muttered to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut as if you could push the images away; covering your ears in the false belief that it would shut out the voices and the words that terrified you to your core. Words that you could never hear again; words that would make you the kind of weapon that only Steve could stop.

"Honey, you're okay," Steve urged as he sat up next to you, keeping his arms around your waist in the hopes that the connection would help. "Yes, you're home, and I'm here."

"I know...just...give me a minute..."

"All the time you need," he reassured, leaning in and resting his head against your shoulder while he waited. His own mind was still in the haze of broken sleep, but it was racing beneath the cloudiness, at a loss of what to do for you. In usual Steve Rogers fashion, he immediately made a stop at blaming himself before making the turn to angry rage at those who had done this to you. Realizing that rage only brought more trouble, which had been so clearly proven by his own actions with the team, he instead decided on pain and fear; pain at what he was seeing, and fear of what it actually meant.

"I thought this would stop once I came home," you began quietly, opening your eyes and dropping back onto your pillow, "but I guess I was wrong."

"Does that happen every morning?"

"Yeah, and when I get stressed, middle of the day just for fun, if the room's too dark..."

His heart dropped into his stomach at your revelation, and his own memories of nightmares and panic barraged him. He couldn't focus on that right now, however, gently shaking the thoughts from his mind. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know."

"It'll pass," you nodded. "Now that I'm home and with you guys again...it has to."

"Give yourself time, (Y/N), and whatever you need, I'll make it happen. I owe you so much..." he stopped, gently kissing your bare shoulder, "I'll do anything you need me to, I promise. I'll never hurt you again."

"I know, Steve."

"You know what's strange?" he continued. "I spent so much time begging you to forgive me and needing you to come back, and now that you're here, I can't understand why you did."

"Okay...yeah, I'd say that's strange, for lack of a better word."

"No, I mean...I don't get why you would forgive me and come back after the mistakes that I've made. I suppose somewhere deep down, I didn't think you actually would."

"Do you want me to change my mind?" you snickered quietly, turning to him with a gentle smirk. It was an immediate change in him and his mood, shifting before your eyes from worry to just a hint of humor; you had to tread carefully, however, as to not let him off the hook so readily. "You're going to have to land the plane on this issue, Capsicle."