ONLY YOU » STEVE ROGERS [EDITING]

19 /| butterfly fly away

n i n e t e e n

*•.*

STEVE ROGERS had a splinter, several actually, and Clint Barton had a family. One of those things was more surprising than the other, but Geneva hadn't decided which one yet. "Tell me again how you got these," she said, leaning over his hands with a pair of tweezers.

"Chopping wood," he answered quietly. She could feel him looking at her, studying her. He'd always done it, but it'd taken her a long time to realize it.

Geneva laughed shortly. "Were you chopping with your bare hands?" When no reply came, she had to stop herself from gasping. "You're kidding."

"I tore a log in half, so no, I'm not." He sighed. "Tony and I exchanged a few... words."

"It's 2012 all over again," she said jokingly. Geneva put the tweezers down, her job almost complete. She cleaned off his hands before sighing too. "You'll be fine of course."

He mumbled a 'thank you' as she began to maneuver out of the small bathroom. "Tell me something," he let out, before she could leave. Geneva hummed in question as she turned around to face him. Steve's hair was sticking in every direction. His elbows rested on his knees where he sat on the edge of the toilet seat. "What did Wanda Maximoff put in your head?"

She thought for a moment. What could she tell him? What should she tell him? Just thinking about it made her sick. "Nothing I didn't already know." At least it was the truth. Her past was still haunting her, but she'd known that for a while. Ever since that interstate back in Washington, she'd known. Yet, she hadn't accepted, had hardly even acknowledged. That's where she went wrong.

"Why won't you look at me then?" It was true, she hadn't made eye contact with him since before she hit her head on that pole, but she looked at him, brown eyes meeting blue. His eyes were saddened, she realized. Maybe the real question was, what did the girl put in his head?

"Because I let all of this get entirely too messy." She rubbed at her forehead. "Things are different between us. And these days I'll find anything to be angry about because it's easier to be angry than hurt. I don't want you to hurt me. And I swear to God I would've let you kiss me at that party, but I was drunk and feeling righteous."

Steve looked like he was unsure. "I wouldn't—I won't hurt you."

"But you have because you can't give me what I deserve. What the hell does that even mean?" She was slightly uncomfortable. "I've joked with you Steve, but you know that there's no use pretending anymore. I realized a few weeks after we left that graveyard and somewhere along the way you did too."

"Yeah, maybe I did," Steve said as he stood. She watched his movements, unsure of what he was doing. "But I also thought I was in love with someone else. That's why I couldn't kiss you all those months ago."

This made her breathing stop for a moment. She could still feel the tension in the air. "Nearly thought that was a fever dream."

He seemed to ignore those words. "In a way, I thought I'd be betraying Peggy and breaking the last reliable connection I had to my past. It took me a while to realize that that wasn't love—at least not the love that I'd confused it to be."

"But if you had the chance to go back, would you?" She pressed.

"It was a different time back then, and if you would've asked me that three years ago I would've undoubtedly said yes. But my life is here now." He took her hand in his, and she let him. She felt as if she was missing something though. She'd seen him on the quinjet—that look wasn't one she could forget. She couldn't forget any of her teammates faces back there on that jet.