Heart Too Cold, but Friends of Gold*Captain America*Avengers*

6) When tomorrow comes

When tomorrow comes
I'll be on my own
Feeling frightened of
The things that I don't know
When tomorrow comes

(Flashlight)

You sat at your computer, the words swimming in front of your eyes. It had been almost three hours since you had left the interrogation room, but your hands were still shaking slightly.

Michaels had been right; you didn't like what you had heard. At all. You had left the interrogation room in hurry, tears piercing your eyes and you had been sure that if Steve hadn't been so worried about you as you had unsurely made your way through to leave the scary space, he would have broken some bones to the guy.

Michaels' words were replaying in your head even now as you were writing the report.

"I... I can't talk about it right now, Steve," you had whispered as he had held you in his tight embrace, embrace that suddenly felt so, so wrong, him offering you comfort and protection. "I'll... I'll just write a report, okay? Let— let me..."

It felt like ages ago. You had come to several conclusions since that moment and you hated most of them. But the measures you were about to take when having the one piece of information the others didn't were necessary. You wrote that down too and stared at the words dully. You always were terrible with words – how were you supposed to be good with them now?

You saved the document and attached it to an e-mail, setting it to be sent at 6 a.m. You breathed in shakily, blinking away your tears. You could do this. You had to do this.

You sneaked into yours and Steve's room, finding him spread casually on the bed with a book. He glanced up with a hesitant smile – the caring look in his eyes stung you and you lowered your gaze quickly, which was when you noticed he was holding the book upside down.

You couldn't help it – you chuckled, your palm covering your mouth, tears almost sprouting from your eyes. God, you were such an emotional wreck if Steve pretending to read to give you space moved you to tears.

"What is it?"

"You're holding the book wrong way up, Steve," you noted kindly, seriously feeling like crying. He was trying to act so casual, to give you all you needed, pretending he hadn't been pacing the whole time you had been writing the report. It made your heart ache.

Steve quickly checked, groaning silently as he realised you were right. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I was... you don't have to tell me. Especially if it's not something pending. I wanted to... I didn't want you to think I've been pacing here or something, waiting for the minute you come back to interrogate you," he babbled adorably and you walked to him slowly, gently taking the book from his hands. His cheeks were flushed as if he realized his mistake all over again.

"Thank you," you whispered, sitting down on the mattress. He straightened so you would be on the same level. His eyes examined you softly with curiosity held back. He mainly worried about you now. "I'm... not ready to talk about it yet. It's not pending, I promise."

He gave a barely noticeable nod, his gaze never leaving your face. It made you feel so loved and cared for— it was so fucking unfair.

"What do we do now?"

"I take a shower and go to bed with you?" you offered shyly and Steve bit his lip, pained smile curling them up. He brought his warm palm to your cheek gingerly. You leaned into the gentle touch despite your better judgement, indulging the sensation.