Not Another Teen Fic...

Chapter Eleven

Steve

"Good morning, Steve." His mom smiles at him as he shuffles into the kitchen.

After Bucky left him in the bar bathroom, Steve went straight home and collapsed into bed. Part of him wants to return there now, but he knows that it's already midday, and besides, there's something he wants to do.

"Morning, mom." He replies sleepily.
"Did you have fun last night?" She asks. Steve raises his hand to his temple, which apparently connected with a table corner as he fell. An angry customer accused him of spilling his drink when his head collided with the table. Steve was quite mad that he was blamed for unintentionally hurting himself, but the fight had gone out of him at that point, so he just apologised quietly and left. He feels the large bump on the side of his head and sighs.
"Not really."

His mom turns, holding a plane with some pancakes on, then gasps and almost drops the plate when she sees Steve's black eye.
"Oh, god! What happened?" She asks.
"A guy hit me. Its not a big deal. I'm okay." Steve usually tries to hide bruises from his mom as she always gets ridiculously upset and worried. She seems to be tearing up now, so he takes the plate of pancakes from her before she drops them then assures her that he's alright about four more times to make sure she knows.

When Steve is sure that his mom has been properly reassured, he sits down and eats a few bites of the pancakes, then realises that his mom isn't eating.
"Why aren't you eating?" He asks, then frowns at his pancakes. "Is this all we have?"
"Yes, but we'll be fine. I'll get my paycheck on Wednesday, that's only four days away, not including today." She says pathetically. "By the way, I'm working tonight and tomorrow night. I'll be back at midnight, like I always am."
"You're already working overtime." Steve says worriedly.
"I know I'm leaving you alone a lot, Steve. I'm so sorry. Soon enough, things will get better, and then I'll be able to spend more time with you."
"You're going to overwork yourself, mom. You already do."
"I'm fine."

She's not. Steve can remember how his mom looked when he was a kid and his dad was still alive. She was always smiling, with a constant tan from spending lots of time outdoors and bright blue eyes which seemed to sparkle. Now, she's thin and pale and practically lifeless. Since his dad died while abroad with the army, his mom had to take many extra shifts at the hospital she works at. Steve barely sees her anymore, and when he does, his chest constricts painfully at how sick she looks. He would willingly take a job in order to help her, but nobody will hire him. The only jobs somebody his age can get is a paper round or something illegal. The newsagent won't hire him because he looks like trouble and he knows that getting arrested would only make his mom's situation worse.

Steve pushes his pancakes towards his mom.
"I'm not hungry." She says quietly.
"Well neither am I." He gets to his feet and goes to his bedroom. He gets dressed then goes back downstairs. His mom is eating the pancakes. Steve sighs in relief.
"I'm going to Natasha's." he says.
"Okay. Have fun and stay safe." His mom smiles.
"Okay. Love you." He kisses her cheek.
"I love you too."

Steve goes straight to Natasha's house, but that isn't where he really wants to be. He simply needs Natasha's help to get where he really needs to go. Natasha's parents are strict about who is allowed in their house- which is much bigger and more luxurious than most houses in the town, especially Steve's- but they like Steve, so they let him in willingly.
"Natalia is in her room. She is sick, though." Her dad tells him. He suddenly notices that her parents have always called her Natalia. He had never noticed before, but now that Bucky had made a big deal of it, he was noticing it. Maybe his friends were right when they told Steve that he was an observant as a brick wall.

He makes his way into her bedroom and finds her curled up on her bed in the dark. Carefully shutting the door behind him, he lets his eyes adjust to the darkness.
"Are you okay?" He asks quietly, stepping closer.
"Hungover." She mumbles in reply.
"Your parents think you're sick."
"Good."