ONLY YOU » STEVE ROGERS [EDITING]

24 /| dreadful anger

twenty-four

*•.*

GENEVA GRIPPED HER PHONE TIGHTLY. Anger replaced the blood in her veins, having boiled it all away. There was just something about getting a threatening phone call in the middle of the night that made her see red. Not to mention the blatant confession of aiding in a prison break. It would probably be breaking news today. She could hear it now. Notorious criminal, Louis Adley, escaped from prison, police say he had help... And then it would go on for days, until they realize that he fell off the face of the earth.

There would be no trace. No one would find him because he'd trained those girls who helped him too well. And she, Geneva, knew all of them too well.

She should've know her fragile peace would be interrupted by something as asinine as a prison break. It was only a few days ago at Thanksgiving that she'd decided never to speak about the man again, but that was quickly going to shit.

Louis was free, and he would be wanting to see her. The girl who'd called her had said as much. She'd recognized the voice even after all these years. It was like an old song you never wanted to hear again; one you prayed you wouldn't hear again.

If you won't come willingly, then we'll come and get you ourselves.

Was she supposed to be scared? Because those words only made her head pound with disgust and agitation. They'd undone all the steps she'd taken to keep that man away in one night, under the blanket that was the night sky in the darkest of shadows. It was all so infuriating that she hadn't even had time to think about what she would do or what seeing him meant for her.

Her heart pounded as she stood outside Steve's bedroom door waiting for him to let her inside. The man opened his door wide, revealing his disheveled state. His blue eyes were red with sleep and his blonde hair was a mess atop his head, sticking in all directions. Had she been calm she would've patted it down. His tired eyes widened at the sight of her. "What's wrong?" His voice was deepened with sleep.

She frowned then moved past him and sat at the foot of his bed. His room was illuminated by a small lamp on the bedside table. It was neat, but it felt more like him than his room at the tower had with more pictures of her, of him, of the team, and more color, various shades of blues and gray. It was warm in his room. He didn't like being cold, almost as much as he didn't like the ocean. He'd never said as much, but she could tell.

He closed the door, quickly following. "You haven't been to bed." It wasn't a question.

She frowned again, allowing this distraction. "What makes you say that?"

He gestured to his head. "No scarf."

Her hand moved to her own head. He was right on both counts of course. Her braids were loose around her face and she had not been to sleep yet. She remembered explaining to him why she wore it every night and it had quickly made so much sense to him.

Her death grip on her phone tightened as she recalled the girl's voice. She clenched her teeth. "I got quite an interesting phone call."

"Is that why you're holding your phone like you're ready to break it in two?" He asked with raised eyebrows. He pried the device from her hand, throwing it onto his ruffled navy blue comforter. "Tell me."

She did, recounting the entire phone call to him, and when she was done her anger had dissipated. "Can't trace it, but that doesn't matter because she gave me an address."

"And you're going?"

"I know we've had this conversation before—"

He shook his head, interrupting her. "But this is different."

"This is different," she agreed. Geneva sighed staring at the planes of his face. They were slightly worn by all he'd seen and if she could ease any of that pain, she would in a heartbeat. "I'm going to bring him in, and I don't want anyone to make a fuss about it."

"And I'm assuming you want to do it alone."

"And I'm assuming you do not want me to do it alone."

He hummed, his lips pursed, eyebrows furrowed in thought. "You go in alone. Natasha and I will be somewhere in the area, waiting."

He'd just volunteered Nat's services, but Geneva knew the woman would gladly be there. "It's settled then," she said, deflating further. She wouldn't worry about this anymore tonight. She fell backwards onto his bed. He always laughed at her insistence that his bed was the softest in the compound, but it definitely felt softer than hers. She stuck her arms out into the air, inviting Steve into her arms.

She heard him laugh softly. It was a nice sound, and it was almost enough to lift her mood from the depths it was being drowned in right now, but dread continued to creep into her heart. She could practically feel it settling into the chambers of the organ, quickly replacing any remnants of the anger in her blood.

Steve leaned down, going into her arms. He hugged her tightly, and she did the same. She could feel his steady heart against her chest which was pressed flush against his. She breathed him in, the smell of mint and some unidentifiable soap—she still hadn't found out the exact scent—filling her nose. Another thing to comfort her.

He placed a kiss on her temple, and pulled away, standing again. "Push over," he told her. She scooted to the left side of his bed and he got in beside her. There hadn't been much time for their relationship with looking for Rumlow, false leads, and making the team a team again, but she had been in this bed before.

He handed her one of her scarves. She must've left it in here by mistake.

She tied her hair away, and he shut off the light. She told herself that all of this would blow over quickly and she would be able to move on.

Geneva promised herself this.

Then she shut her eyes.

hey!! thank you all for reading and getting only you to 41k reads. i really appreciate it, and all the comments. i don't know why this took me so long (and it's short, i know), probably school. my last year in high school is turning out to be uneventful but oh well. the next chapter will definitely be coming soon. don't forget to vote and comment!

-syd