The Silence Between Us (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Happy Endings are a Work in Progress

Steve is not spying. He just happens to be in the gym at the same time as your first training session with Sam. And if his favorite punching bag happens to have a good view of the all-purpose mats in the middle of the room... nothing wrong with that. So, he's not spying. And he's not jealous. In fact, he's relieved that Sam will be the one training you.

Kind of.

A little.

...

But you didn't even ask Steve; you went straight for Sam's help. You could have at least wanted to train with him, given him a chance to explain why he thinks it's a bad idea.

Steve works through his punching bag, watching as you smile and joke with Sam. Sam is a good guy, a good teacher. He's patient, his instructions are clear, he keeps your form in check. His hands are always at your waist, correcting your stance or testing your balance. He could maybe touch you a little less (a lot less).

Sam finishes your session with a sweaty side hug before he leaves. You beam as you collect your equipment and Steve unwraps his hands to join you. He doesn't want to feel the sting of jealousy that has lodged under his ribs. You've never given him any reason to doubt you. But he isn't exactly used to being anyone's first choice. Your proud smile flips his heart over and he leans in for a kiss when he takes a dumbbell from your hand.

You step away, eyes sliding from his.

The rejection hits him like a punch to the gut. In an instant, Steve is five foot two, ninety-five pounds again, watching as Betsy Davidson tells him she only likes him as a friend.

You look back to him, tucking an errant strand of hair back into your ponytail and give a half-hearted smile. [see you at dinner?] you sign.

Steve nods, his mouth dry. You wave to him as you hurry out of the gym. Steve stands alone, feeling your rejection in every cell of his body.

Steve watches your next few training sessions. You seem so much like yourself, so why do you shy away from him now? Usually, you love when he kisses you, keeping the contact as long as you can, smiling when you pull away. What did he do wrong? Why does Sam get to touch you while you keep Steve at arm's length?

The next week is a symphony of discord as Steve puts distance between you, unable to banish the memory of the way you'd stepped out of his embrace. Sitting with you in the dark of his suite—on opposite ends of the couch—watching Duck Soup, Steve feels every inch of empty space between you. Your gaze jumps to him periodically, but he makes no move toward you. What's the point? If you're going to leave him, why fall more hopelessly in love with you?

You move toward him, an inch at a time, as if Steve isn't watching for each minute shift. You take half an hour to do it, but you end up at Steve's side. You lay against his chest and wrap your arms around his waist. He doesn't stop you... but he doesn't accommodate you either. The movie ends. You leave.

The next day, he doesn't watch your training session. It hurts too much and if he stays, he'll punch Sam. That's not right. Instead, he waits in your room, brain and heart at war. He wants to talk to you about it but he also does not want to talk to you about it. Not if it means that you'll tell him it's over. That it was a mistake. That you prefer Sam. That Steve wasn't what you thought—what you wanted.

He sits on your bed. Watches his hands. Replays the past week. Where had he gone wrong? He had gotten used to rejection in his life, but he thought... he thought you liked him.

No good. His chest is tight. His throat burns. He won't be able to talk to you like this.

Just as he makes up his mind to leave, you come into the room. You startle when you see him, but the shock is replaced with a smile just as quickly. Your smile, the one that Steve loves. It rips his heart in two.