Control.

"He's leaving."

You make no effort to get out of bed the next morning. You roll over to snuggle up on the covers and the bottle of lemon vodka you stole from the bar last night rattles beside you.
You feel it in your head and in your stomach, the hungover taking in. Your eyes are swollen and sore from all the crying. Pathetic.

Your body is painfully sore, the worst pain being on your ribcage and hands. All the power you released yesterday in anger took a toll on you. Note to self: don't tell Tony you did exactly what he told you not to do.

A knock hits your door and you hold your breath in foolish hope.

"Hey, hon. Can I come in?" It's not Bucky's voice you hear but Sam's. You mumble to yourself before pulling the door open with a hand twirl.

Sam enters in full Captain America outfit, shield and all. He's gotten so big he has to wiggle into the door frames. He sits down in the bed next to you and you discreetly pull the covers over the alcohol bottle.

"Are you okay?" Sam speaks softly, like he's afraid you're going to break into screams at any moment. It's not that you don't want to, you just physically can't. You're too drained.

"I'm fine. Where are you going?" You deflect the conversation from yourself.
"We got word of a missing SEAL, we're going over to find him."
"Alright, give me fifteen minutes to gear up."

You start to take the covers off you to get up but Sam holds on to your shoulders, pressing you back into the mattress.

"Oh, no, you don't." The man shakes his head with determined dark eyes.
"Sam, it's my job." You shove him off to sit up, glaring at him.
"Not today, it's not." Sam doesn't stand down. "First of all, you still need to recover."

You easily detect the half-truth in his words. That's not the full reason.

"And?" You press him to go on.

Sam tilts his head, clearly pondering what to say. You raise an eyebrow, feeling the heat on anger slowly creep up on you again.

The man exhales in defeat. "And Bucky said to not come get you. He uh, he said we could handle it just the two of us."
You curl up your fists, controlling the inflow of energy fighting to escape your hands. "Right."

"You wanna tell me what the hell happened between you? Or why the training room upstairs is in a wreck?" Sam crosses his arms on himself, his muscles peaking through.

You turn your face to emotionless as Sam's eyes inspect you carefully. The Captain searches all over for a spec of a feeling but you give him nothing, your whole body rigid.

Sam sighs, letting down his shoulders. "Yeah, that's the same response I got from Bucky this morning, after he destroyed three training dummies." His face twists to a mix of scared and impressed. "Like, literally, ripped them to shreds." 

You offer no reaction, still cautiously closed off. The man eyes you sadly and lifts a hand to hold your face, his thumb stroking your cheek gently. It softens you a bit but you keep silent.

"I have to go, hon." He whispers and you nod.

As Sam stands up, your phone chimes. You pull it up to you with a wave. The screen lights up and you groan at the text.

Hi! Sorry for just texting back now, I was working.
7 pm sounds great, I'll pick you up xx
- Mark

"Ah, fuck..." You mumble under your breath, catching Sam's attention.

Texting Mark and asking him out seemed like a good ideia at the middle of the night yesterday, when you were drunk and hurt and angry. Now, you mostly felt empty and were really, really, not up for it.