The Silence Between Us (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Part Five

           

The shriek jars Steve from his daze and he scrambles away from you. You curl into yourself and tangle your hands in your hair. Your scream shakes the room, knocking pictures from the wall and shattering the TV. Steve's consciousness splinters as the dagger of sound plunges through his temples.

Then it cuts off. When he manages to look up, you cower behind the overturned couch in the far corner of the room. Your hand covers your mouth, your eyes wide with horror.

"It's okay," he says. His voice is a muffled echo through the ringing in his ears, so he can only assume that the words come out correctly. You shake your head. He takes a step toward you and staggers as the floor sways under him, then he tries again. You squeeze your eyes shut, a few tears escaping down your cheeks, as he pulls your shaking form into his arms.

#

"So, who wants to explain what happened?" Doctor Cho asks.

"Just an accident," Steve says.

No. It wasn't an accident. You had a goddamn panic attack right there on the couch because Steve had been holding you. That's it. He hadn't even been squeezing you or anything—he was just there—but you couldn't move and any part of your brain that should have come to the right conclusion shut off.

You hug your dress around your waist. It's crumpled and twisted—once fantastic, now a disaster—just like your first date.  Your room is a catastrophe, Steve's ears are bleeding, and Dr. Cho is looking at you with way too much pity. You want to crawl into the filing cabinet, under the med lab table, anything to escape her too knowing eyes. Steve tries to catch your gaze but you can't bear to look at him, not after you hurt him.

You stay through Dr. Cho's examination of Steve's injuries. His eardrums are ruptured and he has a mild concussion, but he's already healing, the super-soldier serum patching him up faster than medical technology could. He'll be fine with rest and, hopefully, no repeat performances from you.

You slip out of the room while Dr. Cho talks. Now that you know Steve is going to be okay you want to get as far from him as is possible while you're still locked in the compound. You want to keep him—keep everyone—safe from you.

You don't even make it down the hall before you hear him jogging after you. He pulls you to a stop, his fingers circling your wrist.

"This wasn't your fault."

You can't think with him in your space. He's too big, too close, too... Steve. You had wanted to walk away—you were actually doing it—but that resolve disappeared the second he was in arms reach. You put your hand on his chest to push him back, give yourself some room. Maybe if you don't feel the heat coming off his body, you can get your head on straight again. His hand covers yours, turning your protest into an intimate gesture. He's so sure about himself. About you. It throws you off balance. And it's so tempting to just lean into him, let him hold you together because it's too hard to do it yourself. You're just so exhausted, tired of being this other person, the person with powers. Can't you just... give them back?

He brushes your hair out of your face so that he can look in your eyes. "It's going to be okay. You'll get better at this. Wanda's abilities have—"

You flinch away, putting a few steps of breathing room between you and Steve. [I am not W-A-N-D-A] Wanda volunteered to be a human guinea pig. Steve signed up for the same thing. Banner willingly experimented on himself. Everyone else chose what happened to them one way or another. Not you. [I am not Avenger]

"That's not—" He tries to recapture your hands but you jerk them out of his grasp.

[I want to talk] Not just now. All the time. You want to sing in the shower and curse when you stub your toe and tell Steve how much fun you had on your date before you screwed it all up. You can't do any of that.