Lessons in Rule Breaking and Other Reader-Inserts*Steve Rogers*Reader*

Nothing but the Truth - Pt.7/8

7. The Break-up

For the second time in a week, Sam Wilson was on the mission to break Steve Rogers' face; or, at least, to bruise it.

Then again, the supersoldier serum's ability to regenerate cells was about as big as Sam's irritation, so he might as well try the former anyway.

He had specifically told Steve not to do that and there he was, that motherfu- leaving his best girl-friend in tears; momentarily, his only best friend, because goddammit STEVE!

Steve Rogers just had to go and fuck up the thing that was bound to be fucked up – on a whole new scale, no less.

Sam burst into Steve's office with zero regard to the poor door, an angry snarl on his lips.

"What the hell is wrong with you, man?!" Sam raved, hands balled in fists, ready, halfway raised by his sides.

"Listed alphabetically or chronologically?" Steve muttered under his breath and sighed at the sight of his fuming friend, not bothering to stand up from his position in the chair. "What is it, Sam?"

'What is it?' Sam's brain mimicked in mockery and anger. WHAT IS IT?!

Was he serious or was he only pretending to be so dumb?!

"She's awake for two days now-"

"I know," Steve stated calmly, a stark contrast to Sam's boiling rage. It only irked the pararescue more, especially since he could tell there was a barely visible wall built up in Steve's mind, his true emotions locked in and the key to them thrown away. "Is she not healing properly? Is there something wrong?"

"Hell yeah it is! Its name is Steve Rogers," Sam spitted out venomously.

To his great annoyance, he could feel himself slip into a therapist mode when Steve sighed and lowered his gaze shamefully; the shift in Sam's attitude was only minute, yet essential. A change great just enough not to punch Steve yet. Momentarily, Sam hated that part of himself, because the need to approach Steve carefully and to get him open up was in a merciless battle with the instinct to protect his other friend hence socking Steve in his jaw. The inner turmoil only fed Sam's irritation.

"She'll be fine! That's not what I'm worried about, dammit! She's confused and fucking sad. Apparently, a guy told her he loved her – a forced confession, but whatever – and then never showed up to say hi even."

Sam's words were only met with silence; partly guilt-driven, partly stunned, partly because Steve probably had no clue what to say to his defence.

The image of one of the best women Sam had ever met, glassy eyes and short breaths as she had clearly been swallowing up the sobs of sorrow and confusion with a lovely mixture of brewing PTSD popped up in Sam's head and as if he snapped his fingers, his anger was back. He himself had been a picture of misery, when she had told him about everything that happened.

She had told him everything, because she believed he would have a better insight into Steve's baffling behaviour, a better idea of whether he had lied when he had admitted that he loved her.

Sam had refused to give her a satisfying answer, mostly because he wanted to give Steve a black eye for ghosting her like a coward. He had simply claimed that it was not his place to say and that Steve had been busy these days; which he was. She didn't need to know what he was busy with.

"I was there," Steve remarked shyly, at least having the decency to sound as if he was aware that he was being an idiot.

Good.