fix you

chapter six

The little house was silent when Maria ended the call.

Clean up crews already finished picking up the mess they'd made in London, and a new safe house was being prepped for them to move to in the morning. The clock on her phone told her it was 4am, and she rubbed her eyes. With the jetlag, recalling the last time she slept was difficult. Had it been 27 hours, or 32? Either one was not a good call, though she had passed out for a few hours after the car accident. So there was that. She'd gotten some rest.

The pain meds Steve had given her had at least done their job well. She could walk without wanting to cry, and was feeling pretty good. Deciding it was time to get the hell out of her leather pants, she found some sweats in a dresser and changed. The bed looked so tempting, but Maria searched around in the dresser drawers, found what she needed. Then she opened the bedroom door and went back down the hall.

She found Steve in the basement beating the hell out of a punching bag.

How many times had she come across him doing the same thing when she lived at the Tower? He'd also found a change of clothes somewhere and now wore a gray t-shirt and navy sweatpants. Those muscles rolled every time he landed a hit, his breathing fast and uneven. Her own breath hitched watching him, and she leaned against the doorframe, mesmerized.

It had been so long since they'd seen each other. For a while she really had convinced herself she was over him, that her feelings for Steve Rogers were purely physical, but that was such a lie. Obviously the super solider had a build worthy enough to drool over, but it wasn't that making her blood warm. It was the whole of him. Steve had so much power, but even now he held back, careful not to destroy the bag. She'd never known someone so aware of their strength, so careful not to misuse it. That unbelievable, unshakable control, never misplaced because he was constantly on the lookout for, and taking care of, others.

Like a moth to a flame, Maria stepped toward him.

She must have made just enough noise because he shifted, looked over at her, and smiled.

"I thought you might have fallen asleep," he said, stepping away from the bag and undoing the wraps on his hands.

"Not tired."

He kept unwrapping his hands, eyes locked on hers. She held his gaze, not backing down. Maria Hill was a woman who knew what she wanted.

She'd wanted to be with Steve for years.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "It's been a long night."

God, that husky voice made her pulse skip, made her want to vault the couch between them. The feelings that had been building between them all night ratcheted up another notch, making her bold, encouraging her to take that next leap.

"I think I've wasted enough time sleeping and not acting." She stepped toward him, heart thundering in her ears.

Steve froze. His eyes went dark, taking on that glint that made her yearn. Just the small hints of his interest had her stomach jumping.

"Maria."

"Hmmm?" There was a little bead of sweat on his forehead. Why was that so enticing? She wanted to lick it off, to card her fingers through his hair and fuse his mouth to hers, making him relinquish some of that impressive control.