I Thought You Were Different

Mrs. America

"The last time you pulled my hair this tight, Nat, we ended up getting dragged into separate corners, remember?"

"I remember," she mumbled through tight lips that held numerous bobby bins between them, "I remember totally kicking your ass that day."

"I don't remember that in the least."

Natasha scoffed and cursed quietly when a few pins fell to the ground, "then I must have beat you harder than I thought.  But don't worry, any hair pulling today is purely in the name of beauty, not murder."

"Relieved," you laughed, watching her work in the reflection of the mirror.  The corset of your dress was being pulled obnoxiously tight by Wanda, enough to catch your breath.  "This relaxes after a bit, right?  I can't feel my legs."

Both women stopped suddenly and stared at you with their mouths agape and shocked eyes, completely aghast at your remark.  The remaining pins fell from Nat's lips, gaining your attention.  "(Y/N), you didn't just say that."

"What?"

"You just made a joke that you can't feel your legs," Wanda whispered.  "That seems..."

"Distasteful," Natasha finished.

"Come on, you guys, if I can't be lighthearted about that whole thing, then what do you want me to do?  It's how I cope."  With a quick glance up to the clock, you hurried to put the finishing touches on your makeup, with Natasha retrieving her dropped pins to complete your hair. Wanda sighed and pulled the final tie across your back and took a step away to admire her work.

"Are you still having problems, (Y/N)?" she asked as she looked at your dress.  "I thought that your visit to Asgard healed your injury."

"It did," you nodded, turning to accept your veil and clipping it into your hair that was now far too covered in hairspray and embellishments.  "But I worry that all it would take is the wrong step, or I'll turn wrong in training, or that any little mistake will undo what's been fixed.  I worry constantly that something will put me back into that wheelchair at any moment."

"That's not healthy, (Y/N).  All of that stress and worry isn't good for you.  Have you talked to anyone about it?  What about the guy that Steve and Bruce go to?"

"Nat, come on, I'm fine.  I'm just a worrier."  With a deep breath you stepped away from the mirror and spun slowly for them to give you a final inspection.  "So, let's have it.  Am I still a crème puff?"

Wanda's voice began to crack slightly as she spoke quietly with her hands clasped together gently and held over her mouth.  "Yes, you are," she sniffled, "but you're the most beautiful crème puff that I've ever seen."

~~~

You could see him, and he looked as perfect as you had imagined he would.  You hadn't seen Steve since the party the night before, and you had never been more thankful that he wouldn't get drunk and show up to his own wedding hung over. Bucky was to his right, followed by Sam, Clint and a spot reserved for Tony.  Once the processional music began, your nerves took hold and you felt your body tense; your grip on Tony's arm became almost desperate. 

"We still have time to run."

"Says the man pushing for this wedding harder than even Steve was," you whispered back, your eyes still locked on your soon-to-be-husband. "I was starting to wonder if maybe you wanted to switch places with me."

"Well I'm sorry that I want you to be happy," he huffed and stuck out his tongue, trying to get your attention with no success.  "Hey, you okay?"

"Yep, time to go."  He led you through the doors and into the expansive chapel, pausing for the guests to stand.  Steve turned to finally look back at you and you could see him suck in a deep breath and hold it at the sight.  "He needs to breathe," you mumbled with a smile for him.  The next few steps went well until you felt a slight roll in your ankle atop your high heels that offered little support.  A momentary slip in your step could have turned embarrassing had it not been for Tony's quick reflexes and strong grip.  You saw Steve take a step forward when he saw you wavering, but Bucky grabbed his arm to stop him.