Toxic | Steve Rogers

Chapter Thirty-Six: Dancer

Steve and Adora spent a while in the shower together, enjoying the moment they knew wouldn’t last. Deep down, they both knew everything was about to tumble down around them, and moments like this would be hard to come by. Steve had a feeling that Adora was scared.

When she had told him to be careful of what he said to Natasha, he knew something was up. And knowing Adora, the truth would come out in due time. Only once she knew for sure.

But whether it would too late by then or not, was anyone’s guess.

Steve had a feeling that Adora suspected her sister of being a traitor. Which also interfered with his trust for Adora and his trust for Natasha. He had known Natasha longer, but Adora was closer to him. The intimacy they shared, he knew, interfered with his trust. They were interconnected, trust and love.

But he didn’t know which sister to trust more.

He felt like he was being rubbed the wrong way, the feeling of wanting to stand up for his trust in Natasha, and at the same time, wanting to fully trust Adora. His mind traveled back to the memories that Adora had showed him. They belonged to him now, and he drew them out of his mind, one at a time. His hands started to itch.

Itching to draw them.

Steve was currently laying in bed next to Adora, where she was quietly taking a nap. She smell clean, her skin soft, and her hair luscious. He studied her, the curve of her jaw, her delicious, pink lips, the arch of her neck, and the image of her beautiful blue-green eyes. The color of vibrant tree leaves in the spring, and the clear blue waves of an ocean mixed into two piercing eyes.

Just how they had been the day they met.

Carefully untangling himself from her body, he quietly padded out the room. He was itching to draw her memories. Even though he didn’t know them like she did, he was dying to see them out on paper. Wandering around the kitchen, he stopped suddenly.

Natasha was standing outside the window, talking quickly into a phone. Her back was to him, so she didn’t see him. He knew that if Adora was awake, she would find out what Natasha was doing.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t Adora.

But, he was curious. Tip-toeing towards the window, he pressed himself against the wall, and her voice wafted through the wood.

“Yes, they are here, brother. I think the powerful one suspects something, but it’s nothing that can’t be handled” her voice was cold, and dark, nothing like the voice he knew to be Natasha’s. He heard the click of the phone, and before she opened the door, Steve sprinted as soundlessly as he could back to Adora. He could hear the squeak of the door as he sat back down on the bed, an let out a sigh of relief. Steve turned to Adora, wondering if she was still asleep.

“I’m not” she murmured, her eyes fluttering open, a smile lighter her beautiful face. He smiled back, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Instead, he lay down behind her, wrapping his strong arms around her torso.

His arms were shaking.

Adora turned to face him, worry in her eyes. “Steve” she whispered carefully, “Please tell me you weren’t eavesdropping on Natasha” her voice broke mid-sentence. Steve paled.

“Then I won’t”

Adora let out a sigh, burying her face in his chest. “I heard her lock down the cabin, Steve. We’re trapped here” Steve stiffened, his mind trying to lock down his thoughts.

Adora pressed closer to him, as if his strength could save them from escaping. “I can hear her thoughts. She can hear mine, Steve. She knows” The fear was evident in Adora’s voice, and that’s when it all started to click into place in Steve’s head. If Adora was scared, then he had something to worry about.

“Control you thoughts, Adora. She’s separating us. I know nothing about her, and you do” He kissed the top of her head, breathing in her scent.

Suddenly, Adora changed the topic, and Steve sense that she was afraid “Natasha” was in her mind.

“I had a nice time in the shower” she mumbled, her voice muffled because she had managed to buy her head in his warm chest. He blushed, and Adora tangled her legs in his.

“I would hope so” he responded, resting his head on hers. She chuckled lightly, biting his chest.

“Hey!” he yelped, pulling away from her. She was grinning,

“Hay’s for horses” she replied matter-of-factly, making Steve laugh. Adora straightened, stretching her arms above her head, her chest puffing out. Steve blushed, looking away from her, reminded of the body he had seen earlier.

“We should get up” she said, her voice low. Steve could tell she was restraining herself, trying to give him warnings with her tone. She wanted them to act normal, to make sure that if “Natasha” had any doubt about them knowing, they would keep it that way.

Adora wanted him to play a part.

Getting up himself, he walked with her to the kitchen, hand-in-hand. As they entered the room, Natasha was sitting on the couch, watching something on the TV. Her eyes didn’t look up as they walked in, and suddenly, Adora stopped, her eyes transfixed on the TV as well.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked quietly. Adora covered his mouth with her hand, her eyes never leaving the TV screen.

“Natasha” she whispered, stepping towards her sister, and Natasha looked up. She smiled, and patted the space next to her.

“Come sit down” she said, her voice cheery. As if in a trance, Adora sat down, leaving Steve gaping at her in the process. What was happening to her? Did “Natasha” have some sort of mind control over Adora? And would it work on him?

Turning his eyes on the screen, he let out a soft gasp. On the screen was an ordinary TV show, at first look, and his eyes struggled to detect the problem with it.

The sight was quite busy, and suddenly, his eyes found the problem. It was the Red Room Adora had showed him, but different. There were ballerinas dancing gracefully around on wooden floors, their movements slow and languid.

A red haired girl was the dancer that attracted his eyes the most. The dancer;s eyes looked pained, and her face was the picture of sorrow.

There were tears in Adora’s eyes, and they dripped down her face. Steve’s chest clenched, but he couldn’t bring himself to move and comfort her.

He knew why she was crying, and it wasn’t because it reminded her of the Red Room.

The red-haired girl dancing, was Natasha.