I Thought You Were Different: Part 6

Threat

Over the course of the next day you had done a brilliant job of avoiding Steve. You didn't have the drive to talk about what was happening, not because you feared anything that he might say, but because you didn't have the answers you knew he would want. You had spent this day with Esihle and the other girls to choose her wedding gown and you couldn't shake the feeling that she was rushing to just get it done, and that she had picked almost the first thing she saw. The frenetic energy of the day left you tired and ready for bed early; Steve had been out with Anthony for tuxedo fittings, and you hadn't seen him back yet, so you hurried through a shower and dressed for bed, hoping to continue your masterful plan of elusiveness.

But of course, that wouldn't last. You had just stepped from the bathroom to find your husband there, pulling his shirt off and tossing it aside, looking as tired as you felt; his shoulders were heavy and hunched as if they were weighing him down, and as if his age was nearly caught up to him now. His usual strong, assured stature was smaller and his muscles were beginning to soften with the lines that used to clearly outline each one becoming less defined. He was likely even more tired than he was letting on. Taking quiet steps and grabbing your slippers, you opened the door of your shared room to leave, but you couldn't avoid his attention.

"Where are you going?" he asked, without so much as a glance in your direction.

"Guest room."

That was enough to shock him to attention, and he quickly spun to face you. "Why? (Y/N), if this is about our argument yesterday-"

"No, you're right, I'm a threat, Steve. It's best if I keep my distance since we can't be sure of what I might be doing to you. I'm going to go to bed, I'm exhausted. Good night." You hadn't so much as crossed a toe over the threshold when his hand gently grabbed your arm to hold you there.

"(Y/N), come on, wait."

"Steve, I'm too tired to fight anymore. I can't fight anymore. It's best that I stay away from everyone. Becca made that very clear, and it would seem that Stephen agrees with you. I'm going to ask Dad to reinforce one of the rooms downstairs, and I'll make it into my new quarters until we figure out what to do with me."

"What to do with you?"

"Well, I certainly can't stay here," you shrugged.

"Okay, that's enough. You're taking this too far, even for my standards."

"No, I'm taking precautions," you snapped harshly. "You were right, and I need to realize that."

"(Y/N), Ant said something yesterday at the caterer. He said that I need to step back and look at why you were hiding this from me. What did he mean?"

"I don't know, you'd have to ask him."

Steve finally released his hold and took a step back. The disappointment in his eyes weighed on his entire appearance, and it aged him. Yes, the serum wearing away was doing that enough as it was, but the pain he was feeling from you sped that process. "That's the best you can do?"

"Okay, if that's your play, then when were you going to tell me about what happened there yesterday?"

"Probably never."

"Then we're even, aren't we?"

"Hiding an allergic reaction is so not the same as hiding the power of an Infinity Stone, (Y/N)."

"You could have died, Steve. This wasn't a case of the sniffles."

"Come on, (Y/N), you're stalling. If you have something to say to me, then say it."

"I didn't tell you about this because I wouldn't be able to live with what would happen if you knew, and if it made you stop loving me," you blurted out. "I couldn't see that look in your eyes once you knew."