✓ ❘ 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐈𝐈𝐈: 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄 ─ 𝐁. 𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐄

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ғᴏᴜʀᴛᴇᴇɴ: ɪᴛ ʜᴜʀᴛs

"It's been two days."

"I know."

"And nothing?"

"Absolutely zilch."

"Well maaayyybe, if you apologized..." a third voice butt into the conversation, and Spence and I turned to look at its owner – Weekes. He was sitting across from us, open laptop in front of him. He had spoken while typing and without looking up, but once he felt me glaring daggers at him, he stopped and slowly raised his head. "Ya know, just a suggestion."

My eye began twitching lightly as I fought against my irritation. "Didn't ask for any, but thanks," I remarked sarcastically.

Me? Apologise? Really?

Spencer stifled a laugh as Dallon widened his eyes mockingly and raised his hands in defense, then turned back to face me as the techie recommenced his work on the laptop.

"He's right, though," my traitor of a best friend shrugged, raising a coffee mug to his lips and taking a gulp, "An apology is a good way to start."

Yes. Yeah. I know. But I mean, surely there were other ways to start? Other ways that were just as good, and – more importantly – exponentially easier to do.

Maybe I should buy her a puppy.

Ugh, but that wouldn't be practical at all; who would look after it when she had to go on missions?

Rolling my eyes, I let my head fall back as I groaned loudly. The whole 'being dead' thing kept looking better and better.

"Mood," Ambrose called out as he walked past the door.

I ignored him (as usual) and rubbed the bottom of my palms into my eyes.

Holding out an open palm, Dallon offered his piece again. Even though I still hadn't asked for it. But anyway. "Just go and talk to her. You can't make things any worse than they already are." A beat as the techie thought for a moment, then continued. "Wait, this is you we're talking about; you totally can make things worse. But you should go anyway. And, like... try not to."

This fucker.

I mean, he was right.

But still.

"Fuck me," I breathed out, looking through the glass walls across HQ.

Two days had passed since the battle of New York, and since the Avengers had parted ways for the time being. Despite the fact that four out of the eight of our team members were based at S.H.I.E.L.D, there had been little interaction between us.

And in the case of (Y/N) and I – no interaction.

Obviously, this was a fucking nightmare – and becoming increasingly detrimental to my already demented psyche, and it was slowly but surely driving me insane. Dallon and Spencer had been pushing for me to swallow my pride and hunt her down for the last day and a half already, but what they didn't fucking get was that it wasn't as easy as they thought it was.

It would've been much simpler a year ago, before she had activated her powers, before I had faked my death, and when it was just her and I. But things were much different now. Other than the possibility of me dying at her hands each time the two of us interacted with each other, there was also the issue of the presence of two other jackasses who she had (blegh) become friendly with.

Much too friendly for my liking.

Ross was no longer under mind-control, and was back to consulting and inhabiting HQ, meaning he was always around. And him being always around HQ meant that he was always around her.My views on that matter were not foreign news to anyone involved – especially not the fucking two of them.

There was also the matter of Captain Jackass himself becoming a sort of honorary agent of S.H.I.E.L.D, and hovering at base as a result. Unfortunately, in my absence, she and he had developed a rather solid friendship.

Disgusting.

Hence, me just 'pulling her aside for a chat' was not the easiest of tasks.

But it wasn't an impossible one either.

I just had to figure out what the hell I was going to say.

✧✧✧

I shuffled my way towards the one place I knew I could almost always find her – the break room – rehearsing what I was going to say over and over in my head.

The fuck was wrong with me? I'd never ever had to rehearse my words before. Now all of a sudden I couldn't stop doing it. What the fuck?

Maybe it was because I knew that there was no way I could afford to screw this up. Again.

Last chance.

As I got closer, I could hear voices emanating from the break room. She wasn't alone. Of course. Of fucking course he was there.

My jaw clenched and I flexed my knuckles as I prepared to round the corner into the area. Clearly, it wasn't an ideal situation, but I was going to do this. I had to do this.

"...falling apart inside."

That British accent filled my ears. I couldn't make out exactly what they were talking about, but it sounded serious.

Well, I was serious, too.

She heaved a deep sigh. "I just-"

I entered the room, bringing an instant halt to the words flowing past her lips. She hadn't turned to look at me, but she didn't have to. She knew I was there. Just like I always knew when she was.

It was just something we knew. Something we sensed.

My gaze fixed on her the moment I stepped through the doorway, staying there all the while, until she finally turned to look at me.

I'll never get used to that.

Something didn't seem right, though. And as I lowered my gaze slightly, I realised why.

I swallowed harshly.

She was holding his hand.

She was holding his hand. She was holding his hand. She was holding his-

I physically couldn't bare to look anymore, and tore my stare away and refocused on her face, finally opening my mouth to speak.

"Hey."

"Hi."

"Didn't mean to intrude," I said politely, though the resentment bubbling inside of me was nowhere close to polite, "Just wanted to see if you had a minute. I need to talk to you."

Annnndddd here we go.

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Thank you for reading x