𝒑𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒕 || s. rogers & b. barnes

1||; 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒕𝒐𝒏, 𝒅𝒄

⤷ june 7, 2012
━━━━━━━━━━━

Washington, DC was a beautiful city, Irina couldn't help but admit.

It wasn't New York, but its architecture had its own beauty and set its own ambience to the city. Not to mention it was quieter in most ways.

She'd been living in the city for the past month, working with Steve to unpack all their belongings and settle in bit by bit. S.H.I.E.L.D. — or, more specifically, Fury — had set them up with a nice apartment in a nice neighbourhood. It had two bedrooms, a bathroom, a living room and kitchen, and a small dining room for the two of them. Irina had brought most of her furniture over from her old place in Queens so that they didn't have to spend much money on new furniture, and it fit in well with the new space.

Both her and Steve kept their distances from the other, slowly getting used to one another bit by bit. She had to admit, it took getting used to, having a roommate — having a roommate that helped you save the world, to be specific...

...but Steve made things a bit easier. He greeted her every morning with breakfast and a welcoming smile. She found he didn't sleep much, no doubt a side effect from sleeping for seventy years. Some mornings, if she woke up early enough, she could heard him shuffling about the apartment, going out for an hour before coming back after an early morning run.

He took good care of her, what with the breakfast and the daily questions on how she was, how she was feeling...she just felt bad she wasn't taking that good as care of him.

She'd managed to get a small job at a bodega a few streets over from them, the elderly couple who ran the shop desperate for younger help, and they didn't even seem to mind her being an Avenger — in fact, she wasn't sure if they even knew she was one, given that she was still using her fake alias as Emma Roberts, and her name had never been released to the public in the aftermath of what the world deemed "The Battle of New York", just her face.

Her small income was enough for them to get by when it came to food, and as they didn't seem to need to pay rent, it was a steady life. Every week day, and the occasional Saturday when she was needed, Irina would go out from 9 to 5 and work at the bodega, before coming back, Steve either gone on a S.H.I.E.L.D mission, or sketching away in his room.

Yeah, Fury had reached out about calling him in for the occasional mission when needed. He hadn't even bothered offering to Irina, and she was damn glad.

Because she was done fighting.

The Battle of New York had been both her debut as an Avenger and her last ever fight as one. The public probably didn't know, but everyone that needed to know did.

She was done.

And she wasn't ever going back.

𓆩*𓆪

(trigger warning for nightmares, choking, panicking...)

"Ангел..."

It's cold. And dark. Four stone cold walls, and one steel door with a small, six inch window to the outside.

A familiar room.

"Вы сделали Божье дело," a low voice rumbles.

She blinks, and suddenly, the room is gone, replaced by a blinding light, and the shadow of a figure hovering at her side, peering down at her with cold blue eyes.

"В этом мире нет бога," she replies in a small voice. A weak voice.

Lips curl into a cruel smile. She's answered correctly. She was good. She was obedient.