Uncanny Agent. (mcu)

{4}

//

Every laceration, every graze could not be seen to gnaw at me like the sense of double-cross. My eldest friend, I had cheated him, and left there to ache.

"Agent," The guest room floods with fluorescence, the door ajar. I fully expect the FBI, but it's just Steve.
With our escape he has let us conceal with him, figured it's best to keep us all a cache - but it's just short term, til we can get Bucky help. "Captain." I purse, tightening the sheets further round me.

"I don't mean in weakness, but would you like help dressing your wounds?"
I can sense his uncertainty.

"It's not much damage, take care of Barnes." I regret it, I know my knees are still raw, sliced from the leap to ledge - a burn from Tony left to my thigh. But there are priorities.

"I've already got him settled. Let me see,"

I do stifle a sigh, he is much too caring for a random two team timer who left SHIELD before he was even thawed from the ice.
I shower him in a nod, rising just to leave the sheet behind.

"You're looking at me like I'm not real." I point, pulling a robe round me. "Can you, uh, turn around." And he does take listen, jumping nearly from his skin when he hears my trousers fall. "I don't have to take your help on my legs if it's any consolation, I understand boundaries."
And he's proper, hesitating as he inches back face to face. "If it doesn't bother you, I don't mind." He's seen a lot in his time in the 21st century, the thigh of what really looks like his long lost lover won't be that uneasy.
And he lets his gaze drop to my calves, climbing up in a slow roll, at first assessing what needs tending and then.
"Ehem." I grunt, crossing my arms at my core, sharp brow quirking. And I can see his flush, burrowing to the roots of his hair. What a doll.
"You remind me of someone." He susurates, taking kneel.
I sit back to the mattress, extending my foot to his knee, raised enough for him to disinfect. "I've been getting that a lot recently." It's a quip, but he takes it as no one-liner, staring with hush before the tension fattens, and it falls, eyes left to the crusted scars - hands trembling as he dabs at the blemishes.
I want to catechize, tear the information from him latter by layer but I can see the shake of his rising chest, the discomposure wracking with every near touch. He won't even rest the pads of his fingers to my skin.

"You have no idea how to react to women do you?"
And the pressure he press to my calves leaves my tongue at a sizzle, inclination to swing my leg at his chest - but with his girth he doesn't even budge, rigid from shoulder to hip.
"My apologies Captain." It's a blurt, curling over to rest a palm to the crook of his neck. "Pushed much too hard, instinct kicked in. Literally."
I take back lean and his posture is stiff, a generous nod. "My fault, it's no trouble.."

And I know his mind is at war, the crease of brow, the sheen of his forehead, quick breath. He is uneasy, it seems blarney. But with a man of his power, I can't see his take to such a woman like me.

It isn't in deprecation, the Agent life isn't one for romances, there's too much to stress on. But I'd seen these symptoms in the horny bastards I'd railed information from in the past, and it was an awfully familiar sight.

He goes cold with a brush of his knuckle over my bone. He looks sick.
"I can take care, rest." I murmur, moving my foot from his person. "You look ill."
And I know he couldn't be, and he knows the same but shares the discomfort, rising from knee.
"And Captain."

He does manage to keep his eyes to mine, but I see a great deal of suffering.

"You have a lovely home. Much appreciation in allowing us to invade on it."

There's a crack of a smile, plastered to pale yet flushed skin. And I share a similar, teeth and all. "It's payment in return for your actions, thank you for your service."

And I send him scurrying off with a general salute, the kit left behind for me to unfold.