Remember Me (Steve Rogers Fanfiction)

Chapter 4

One year ago, Italy

"Sam, you okay?" Steve asked as Sam exited the bathroom unsteadily.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I think the fish went bad."

"Good thing I didn't eat it, then. I told you!" Steve and Natasha laughed at his predicament, but America's expression turned murderous. She glared daggers at Sam, who actually scooted his chair back a few inches.

"I swear, Sam, if you get me sick-"

"Calm down, it's fine," he reassured, patting her on the head like a child. America rolled her eyes and took a seat at the table.

"What should we play?" Steve asked, shuffling the deck. America grinned and, reaching across the table, stole the cards from her husband's idle hands.

"Blackjack. Here, I'll deal." With lightning speed, she quickly dispersed the cards between the four players and the game began.

After fourteen straight wins for Natasha, Sam groaned as he bet his last chips. "How do you do that?" He whined.

"Practice," she said simply. A smirk spread across her face. Steve glanced over at America, who had been strangely silent at a time where she could have made fun of Sam. Her face drained of color.

"Mer, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'll... I'll be right back." In a flash, she was gone, leaving her friends confused. Steve followed her to the bathroom, where he could clearly hear her throwing up.

"Mer?" He asked, knocking on the door. "Doll?"

"Tell Sam that I hate him!"

"He already knows that. Are you okay?"

"Steven Grant Rogers, do I sound okay?"

"That's a good point," he mumbled, cringing. "Come out when you're feeling better."

"If Sam steals my chips, he's going to wish he'd never been born."

Steve shook his head and returned to the kitchen table, where the others looked up expectantly. He only chuckled. "Wilson, you're a dead man."

"I'd run, but she can catch me."

Natasha frowned. "We're supposed to go undercover tomorrow in that warehouse. If you two aren't in top shape-"

"We'll be fine," America said, clearing her throat as rejoined the group and sat.

That was not the case. By the morning, both Sam and America felt worse than before. Steve and Nat decided to leave the two of them behind and go undercover by themselves.

*

"Wait, hold on," I say, putting a hand up. "I don't see how this has anything to do with what's going on now. We played cards, went to bed, and both of you were too sick to go on the mission. So what?"

"No interruptions! I said no interruptions!" Sam replies angrily. I shrug. "You thought the story ended there. But it didn't."