Baby Barton

Chapter 124 Chloe Barton & Steve Rogers

What is that? That ache, the sharp thud radiating behind your ear?

You roll onto your side, instinctively taking the pressure off.

Thats when you remember, your eyes snap open.
"That fucking asshole, I'll kill him." Blinking a few times to regain your periphery, you groan, sitting up in the bed, swaying as the mild concussion wraps its aura around you.

A hand pushes you back down, "Chloe." His voice, god his voice. It's like it sings to your heart.
Yep, definitely concussed.

Steve walks around the bed, his furrowed brow just the tip of the iceberg, everything goes much, much deeper than that.

He hands you a glass of water, two Tylenol sit in the palm of his hand. You gulp down the glass declining the pills with a wave of your hand.  He knew you wouldn't take them, but he felt you might need them.

Laura sewed up the nasty gash that Clint left there with his bow, the tray with the sterile instruments sat to the left of the bed.  Steve pushes them out of the way. That's when you realise that you're back in your little apartment above the barn.

"I can't believe he knocked me out." Clint is lucky that he isn't here. One for one. Hit for hit. You will get him back for this.

"Don't freak out." Steve mutters softly.

You sigh, shaking your head, "Why can't you all just respect what I want?"

Steve's gaze doesn't drop, his eyes stay locked in on yours. His lips pressed together. "This is bigger than just you now. It's bigger than all of us."

Something in his tone; the words he is using. Goosebumps overrun your body.

"I need you to trust me." He states.

Trusting him was never the issue. You always trusted him. But the urgency in his voice, it grounds you.
"I trust you."

"Good." He said, finally dropping your gaze. His shoulders relaxing a little, "Cause we're gonna take a little trip."

Malta. Please let it be Malta.

***

It wasn't Malta, it was better than that.

You roll your head back, allowing the blistering sun to kiss your skin. Steve's hand slips into yours, he rubs his thumb over your knuckles gently.
"Still trust me?" He whispers, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on the arch of your jaw.

"Of course, but why are we in Wakanda?" You ask, a little hint of worry hidden in the croak of your voice.

Steve shakes his head, "Don't worry. We aren't hiding out here."

Thank god. The last thing you want is to go into hiding. A life on the LAM. Its worse than prison.
The the pin drops, "No...it isn't?" You gasp in anticipation.

Steve's mouth curves into a delicious smirk, "It might be..."

"We're in deep shit. You know that right?" You ask.

"Yup."

"I'm not sure I'm worth all this, Steve."

Steve pulls you into him and you relax instantly. There is no better feeling than this.
"Everything is going to work out Chlo, I promise."

His mouth ghost against yours hesitantly, you grab his tshirt and pull him closer, pressing your lips to his.

You change your mind, there's no better feeling than this. Kissing him, the feel of him, the taste of him. When your bodies are aligned in such pure love. If you could bottle the feeling, you would sip at it every day. 

You run your hands through his hair, deepening the kiss as his hands cup your face. He drinks in your little moans as his tongue dances together with yours.

"Still making people feel uncomfortable I see."

You break your kiss, hearing Steve chuckle as you pull away from him.

"Buck!" You dive on him, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"Hey." He simpers.

"You look..." You cast your eyes over him.

"Thawed? older?"

"I was gonna say tanned, sun kissed." You tease.

His shoulder length brown hair is speckled with natural golden wisps. There are freckles dotted over his nose and cheeks. He just looks so healthy, and happy.

***

The reunion was a welcomed distraction, but the guilt still gnaws at you. Whatever Steve is planning, it has to be important, if he's brought you here.

"I need some time to breathe." You say across the dinner table.

T'Challa offers you his training facilities, you accept graciously. Suppressing the urge to burst into sobs. Every emotion in your body heightened by anxiety. Knowing that Tony is dealing with god knows what back home.
And whatever Steve has planned, its all...well...
Its breeding fear in you.

The tech in this facility, its the best you've ever seen.
You start the simulator. You haven't been able to look at your bow since Lagos. Natasha had scolded you when she brought it into your room and you called it a 'murder weapon'.

Steve

Standing in the gallery above, you watch Chloe expertly fire arrows into computerised assailants, avoiding every simulated victim. When the simulation ends, she starts it back up again. And again. And again.

T'Challa steps in beside you, tuck his hands behind his back and observes too.
"She is very skilled at what she does." His mouth twitches into an impressed expression.

"Again!" You hear Chloe pant as the simulator dies down. She blows a bead of sweat off the tip of her nose. Inhales deeply and starts again.

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to understand what's going on in Chloe's head, and how to help her heal.

"She is." You reply to T'Challa, "But Chloe is also an expert on wrestling with her self loathing."

"You can't fix every one Captain, sometimes these traits make a person who they are. They aren't always a demon. Those are something completely separate." T'Challa attempts to reassure you.

You nod, "I don't want to lose her."

"You can't make this about you."

"It's about both of us."

T'Challa lets out a soft chuckle, he understands you. What you and Chloe are going through, "It's okay to be selfish sometimes. But first and foremost, she needs you to be understanding."

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Hey!
I am determined to finish this story!
So expect lots of chapters of the next week.
Vote & comment where you can ♥️