𝒑𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒕 || s. rogers & b. barnes

9||; 𝒊 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇

⤷ march 28, 2014
━━━━━━━━━━━

Her first breath burns her lungs.

The second is more bearable, but it hurts enough to have her eyes open.

It was bright.

She squints, trying to adjust to it. The light. The flames. The rubble.

Arnim Zola.

The bogie.

HYDRA.

Irina let out a harsh cough as she lurches forward, hand flying out to grab hold of anything to steady her. It finds a harsh cement wall.

As her lungs continue to choke under the excess amount of smoke in the air, Irina looks around her. She finds Romanoff, lying unconscious, and Steve, picking up her limp form while trying to hold his shield at the same time.

She offers her hand out wordlessly. Steve catches sight of it. His eyes flicker to her face, then to her hand, and then back to her face. His jaw clenches, and the last image she can remember before passing out returns in present. A hurt Steve, with eyes shining over the betrayal.

Her betrayal.

To him.

Without another word, he looks away from her, grunting as he struggles to carry out Romanoff's body from the alcove they were saved in.

Her heart gives a pang of hurt. Irina purses her lips, following after him.

They slip away under the cover of night, not a word spoken, tensions heavy and thick once again.

𓆩*𓆪

She almost feels a sense of relief once they're back in the city. It's familiar, after living in it for two years. But the newfound tension between two of the three of them weighed down on any good feelings she had, to be honest.

Steve leads them wordlessly to a house, and knocks on the glass door. Just a few seconds later, the door slides open, and Sam greets them with a worried face. "Hey, man," he says.

"I'm sorry about this," says Steve. The first words he's spoken since New Jersey. "We need a place to lay low."

"Everyone we know is trying to kill us," mutters Romanoff.

Sam looks between the three of them, eyebrows pinched together. "Not everyone," he murmurs after a moment, and steps aside to let them through.

Romanoff and Steve head in, Irina trailing loosely after them. She flashes Sam a quick, pursed smile as she passes. The dark-skinned man glances around outside, before sliding the door shut and lowering the blinds.

"Thank you, Sam, really," Irina says once he turns around to face them.

"It's no problem," he says softly, examining them all. "You all look like shit, that's for sure."

None of them can muster a smile at his words. Sam purses his lips, nodding down a hallway and gesturing with his arm. "I got a guest bathroom you guys can use to freshen up. Down the hall, to your left. You're safe here, I want you to know that," he assures them.

Steve nods gravely. "Thank you," he says, before turning to Romanoff. "Natasha, you take the first shower."

She eyes them, but Irina notes the specific unsure glances between her and the soldier. "You sure?"

"Yeah," Irina shrugs, and has to purse her lips to hold back a noise of pain at the ache the action gives. "You've got to be the most banged up out of us. Go on, we'll be fine."