FROSTBITE | S. Rogers/B. Barnes (FINISHED)

House Warming Party

Janie began pacing around her apartment the minute she got back from the grocery store. The bags (both of which the contents threatened to spill out on the floor) sat on the kitchen table while she paced slowly back and forth between her bedroom and the living room.

She opened her mouth, but all that came out was an arid sigh. When she looked down at her hand, she noticed there was a can of beer in it. Janie didn't like beer, but one of her friends had brought it over during the housewarming party she hadn't wanted to host (but was forced to out of the kindness of their hearts). It had been sitting in her fridge ever since, waiting patiently for someone to crack it open and drink it. 

So she did. 

Her laptop stood open on the coffee table and the volume dial had been switched all the way up to max. Janie figured the upstairs neighbors would probably be able to listen in if they tried hard enough, but there wasn't even a single ounce of doubt in her mind that they were watching the same thing at that very moment. People were curious beings, especially when disaster struck and they were able to watch it unfold from the safety of their own homes.

The longer she looked at his face, the more confused she became. Emotions rapidly swirled through Janie's body, wreaking havoc on her insides while she continued to slowly pace in front of the screen of her laptop. She was angry, or at least, she thought she was. She should be, right? After all, the man should've said who he was from the get-go. She would've been able to thank him properly for his efforts or whatever. She was grateful, too, which was a difficult emotion to hold on to when anger threatened to overshadow it, engulf it completely. 

A single knock on Janie's door sent the hairs on the back of her neck standing up straight. 

She wasn't expecting any of her friends and they knew better than to show up at her doorstep unannounced, especially with everything that had happened. She hadn't told very many people outside of her closest friend group about the move and it was Saturday - almost 7 P.M. at this point - she wasn't expecting any packages or a visit from her new landlord (she hated his guts). 

She swallowed the lump in her throat and slowly reached for one of her crutches, which stood next to the couch. Janie didn't have a taser in her purse or a baseball bat hiding underneath her bed like badass girls did in action thrillers, but she had crutches and she sure as hell was going to use them if needed. 

Another knock, louder and more urgent this time, made her jump slightly in her skin. Janie inched towards the door, mentally cursing her landlord for refusing to fix the little peephole in the top of the door (she really hated his guts). All she could see were broken shards of frosty glass and the vague outlines of a person standing on the other side of the door. 

Her heart raced inside her chest, blood pumping violently through her veins and Janie found herself holding her breath involuntarily. 

She placed a shaky hand on the doorknob and made a fist around it while her grip on the crutch tightened. Then, she swung open the door, ready to strike at whoever was waiting for her on the other end. 

"Can I talk to- what on earth are you doing with that?!"

Steve Rogers stood in the hallway, hands up in a poor attempt to shield his face from impact. He hadn't come bearing flowers this time, not that she could see anyway, and Janie was grateful for it. It would've made things more awkward between them. 

"Steve? What the hell are you doing here?!" she asked, her voice elevated and throaty, "I nearly hit you over the head!"

Steve looked at her and back at the crutch in her hand and frowned deeply. 

"You were planning to beat me unconscious with that thing?" He asked, sounding nearly offended, as if she was holding a rotten twig instead of aluminum tubing. 

"I didn't know it was you, obviously. I would've picked something heavier if I did. Maybe if I kicked Captain America's ass I could be on the news too," she hissed.

Steve heard the video that had been all over the news coming from inside the living room and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose while he tried his hardest to come up with something to say that wouldn't make him sound like a complete ass. Janie didn't question how he knew where she lived. She figured Captain America could find out practically anything if he wanted it bad enough. She didn't feel comforted by the idea, even though she trusted America's most famous superhero not to abuse his ability to pull strings with the right people. 

"You know, I'm really starting to think you're just like all the other men I've ever had the absolute pleasure of meeting in my twenty-four years of existence," Janie said, folding her arms over one another. 

"I should've-" Steve tried. 

"You looked like an honest man to me, but I guess even America's golden boy can't help but to lie, not to mention you seem to enjoy disappearing for long periods at a time." 

"If you would just listen to me for five minutes so I can explain myself, I promise you I can change your mind." He said, although it sounded more like a question than a statement.

"I suppose you're also the kind of man to break promises. Just like my dad." Janie moved her hand towards the door and made a move to shut it, but Steve shot out his foot.

"Please," he pleaded, "five minutes and I'll explain everything. I promise." 

Janie knew he wasn't going to let this go. Steve didn't come across as the type of man to give up easily, but sadly for him, neither was she.

"I'm sorry Steve," she said while pushing against the door, "I really can't deal with this right now. I have finals to study for, papers to write."

She shut the door in his face and looked around her apartment in a dreamlike daze, like her brain had been replaced by cotton candy, turning into a sweet clump of sugar just as it hit your tongue. From the other side of the door, Janie could hear nothing for a while. She figured he would knock again, plead for her to hear him out at least one more time, but when she finally heard long, dragging footsteps descending the staircase, she knew she'd won. 

What exactly had she won? 

The man who had saved her life - in the quite literal sense of the word - had come to see her in the hospital. He'd talked with her, joked with her, made her forget about the fact that she could hardly breathe without feeling any sort of pain and yet she was angry with him. 

Steve knew why she was angry with him, which was the reason why he'd decided not to knock on her door again. He knew the feelings of disappointment and betrayal would eventually fade, because they always did, but for now, there was nothing he could do. 

He hadn't exactly lied, although withholding information came darn close to the real thing, and if there was one thing Steve Rogers did know about women (because truth be told, he didn't know much); it was how much they hated being lied to. 

With a heavy heart and his head thick with worry, Steve left the building.