Pierdut(lost)

A J U T O R

                                          H E L P

/help/

verb

verb: help; 3rd person present: helps; past tense: helped; past participle: helped; gerund or present participle: helping

improve (a situation or problem); be of benefit to.
****
     "Don't you think it might be time for you to give up, Steve? He's gone and you need to accept that, do you understand? This, what you're doing to yourself, it's not good! You may be a super soldier...." The voice droned, warbling from underneath Steve's dark haze. It had been two months since he fell from that damned train and everyday since then Steve had drowned himself in his work, searching for even the slightest indication of Bucky, a limb or even a splotch of blood.

But every time a group was sent down to look, including Captain Rogers himself, nothing was found, even after hours. It broke him a little, enough for his closest friends to drift away from him a bit. Even Peggy....
****
That was over seventy years ago, before Howard and Maria and Peggy. Before Steve's life was drowned with the plane and went down under with Peggy's casket.

Now Steve is still looking for Bucky, at least subconsciously. On the surface, he's just the leader of the Avengers, Captain America and America's golden boy. Under the surface, he was just a scared newly turned adult from Brooklyn, grieving for his best friends, his love and his girlfriend. But most importantly, himself. Unlike the lie he told Peggy, Steve had never and wouldn't ever get over him; his death and the way he made him feel.
***
"Steve, I'm outside. Get your old ass out here with your sexiest workout gear."
Natasha. The text caused Steve to blush in embarrassment. How could someone be so blunt? That was the main thing Steve could never understand about people nowadays. Suiting up in a pair of gray basketball shorts and a fitted t-shirt, he stumbled sleepily to the door. He would need this run; last night kept him up too late.

Outside, there she stood, clad in black exercise shorts and a gray tank top, black sports bra peeking out from under her arm. Natasha Romanoff, famous Russian assassin and spy known as the Black Widow, and Steve's close friend. Of course, never too close, Steve wasn't stupid. He knew she would snatch his secrets like hot potatoes if she had the chance. He couldn't let her find out everything. There was only one person who knew like that, and he was dead.

They jogged leisurely, heading towards the local gym. Natasha kept up with Steve surprisingly. Not that Steve was purposefully trying to outrun her, because he'd like to keep his head on his body. As they reached Sunrise 360, the gym closest to Steve's apartment, Steve immediately started to grab some wrap and twist it around his knuckles. Natasha started on the pullups on the other side, out doing half of the people in the gym. Steve smiled.

Finally, after getting bored and doing exactly what Steve knew she really texted him for, Natasha invited him to casually get his ass be- I mean spar. He sighed, but stepped into the ring and assumed his usual pose. Nat stepped in and assumed no pose. "This isn't usual. She's up to something" Steve thought. So instead, Steve begrudgingly charged.
Playing straight into a trap. As much as he tried(and failed) to hide it, Steve's dampening mood was painted all over his face. Natasha had seen that exact look on her own face in the morning, but it wasn't as cute. He probably thought she didn't notice the bags under his eyes, the blank look in his crystal blue eyes, the shadow growing on his face, the frown lines and list continues.

The only way Natasha knew how to cheer him up was to give him a reason to feel happy; one of which being winning wrestling matches. Nat didn't know why but anytime he wrestled her to the floor in playful competition, the emptiness in his eyes lit up like he was finally truly happy, but as soon as it was over and time to head out, he went back to a kicked puppy. It was honestly kind of depressing and a little angering.

"C'mere punk!" Bucky growled playfully. Steve wriggled out of his grasp and tackled him from behind, giggling. Unfortunately, seeing that Bucky was a tall order of one hundred seventy pounds and Steve was 90 pounds of compacted chihuahua anger, all that happened was Bucky flipped him over his head, landing him on the carpeted floor. He straddled the smaller boy, fingers wiggling, and proceeded to tickle him past the point of pissing his pants. "Bucky! No, stop, stop!!! I'm gonna pee on myself, you jerk! Get your heavy ass off of me! " Steve howled, being promptly ignored.

Steve straddled the smaller woman, about to deliver a swift punch, before being hit with a memory. He could see himself in this same position, Bucky on top of him, and stopped. Nat called his name but the sound didn't register. She slipped from under his legs was about to attempt to lift him from such a defeated position, before he shot up and marched to the door, storming out into the brisk afternoon air.