"Seriously, Chris?!" you yelled, slamming your hand on the kitchen counter.
"What do you want from me?" Chris responded, just as frustrated.
"Maybe just some of your time. I know you're so goddamn busy but maybe just a night for your girlfriend once in a while?"
"C'mon," Chris sighed, reaching for you. "That's not fair."
"No," you said, pushing his hand away. "What isn't fair is you never having time for me! I get it, Chris, I really do. I knew what I was signing up for when I started dating a Marvel guy. But God! You're home for two weeks and you can't save a Friday night for me?"
"Sweetheart..." he said, trailing off when he realized he didn't have any defense.
"That's what I thought. I'm going home, call me if you decide I'm worth it."
"Wait, don't leave. I'll stay in tonight. We can do whatever you want."
"What I want Chris," you said, picking up your purse and heading for the front door. "What I want is to feel like you give a damn about me. About us."
You walked out of Chris's house and jogged to your car, slamming the door closed and resting your forehead against the steering wheel for a moment before you sat up and started the engine. You drove to your house only a few blocks away while the radio droned on as the background music to your thoughts. You and Chris had been together for nearly a year. You had met in Boston just before he was due to leave to work on End Game. Chris took you out a few nights before he left, and when he ended up in your bed that night, you had accepted that he was simply a one night stand. But when you woke up that morning, he was still there with his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly to him even as he slept. When he woke up that morning, he swore he didn't mean to fall into your bed, and he wanted something more than one night.
A year later and you knew you loved him. You hadn't said it to each other, but it wasn't hard to fall for him. Chris was still struggling with parts of your relationship. When he was home in Boston, he had so many people to see and friends to catch up with. This wasn't the first time he had made other plans without thinking about your relationship, and you were honestly tired of it. You pulled into your driveway and grabbed your bag, feeling your phone vibrate inside. You pulled it out and checked it, two missed calls and a few texts from Chris. You rolled your eyes, tossed it back in your bag, and headed inside, narrowly missing the rain that was starting to fall.
You dropped your purse and kicked off your shoes as you entered your home. You shrugged out of your jacket as you jogged upstairs towards your room, set on getting out of your jeans and into your pajamas. You pulled off your top and bra, throwing on one of Chris's shirts that he had left in your room. Kicking off your jeans, you quickly replaced them with pajama shorts and went back downstairs, opening your freezer in search of ice cream. You found a pint waiting for you and grabbed it before settling into your couch. The lightning outside illuminated your living room as you settled in with trashy reality TV. Just as someone was about to throw a drink in someone else's face, there was a pounding on your door. You groaned and got up, pausing your show as you went. You swung open your door to reveal a soaking wet Chris Evans.
"Did you swim here?" you asked with an arched eyebrow.
"Practically," he said with a crooked smile. "Can I come in?"
You moved aside, silently inviting him inside.
"Real Housewives?" he questioned, referring to your paused TV.
You shrugged. "I love messy people."
"Explains why you're with me then, huh?"
"Why are you dripping in my kitchen, Evans?" you asked, avoiding his comment.
