Summary: Steve came home from the war to a wife that could not deal with the emotionally, mentally, and physically changed man before her. Dealing with it the only way he knew how, Steve buried himself in his work. After saving hundreds of lives in one heroic act, Steve finds himself put on bodyguard duty. Also known as a glorified babysitter.
It wasn’t easy being the daughter of insanely rich and successful businessman, Phil Coulson. After multiple death threats, your overbearing, worries-too-much father decides you need a bodyguard.
Word Count: 1,577
Warnings: Language, angst, blood, violence, explicit sexual content, possibly more to come.
Author’s Note:
My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.
“God, dad,” you grumbled. “Why can’t you just listen to me? I don’t need a damn babysitter! I’m a grown ass woman. I can take care of myself.”
Phil was sitting behind his desk and shaking his head. “You seem to forget the amount of death threats that have been sent to you, Y/N.” The pinched expression on his face meant he was done arguing with you about it.
“They’re empty threats. Nothing more,” you said when there was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Phil instructed as he stood, fastening the buttons on his suit jacket.
“I apologize for interrupting, sir,” the new arrival apologized gruffly, closing the door behind him.
Your father was wearing his business only smile as he stood in front of the man whose name you didn’t yet know. “No apologies necessary. You must be Steve Rogers.”
“Yes, sir,” Steve responded, shaking Phil’s hand.
Phil started chuckling. “I like you already.”
Steve gave a tight-lipped smile in return, unease rolling off of him in waves.
“Steve, this is my daughter, Y/N,” your father said, motioning toward you as you approached the duo.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Steve greeted you flatly, a soft Irish lilt to his voice, his azure eyes sharp and attentive as they roamed over you in a purely professional matter.
You rolled your eyes in annoyance. “Call me by my first name,” you instructed coolly.
“Sorry, ma’am. I can’t do that,” Steve insisted, the previously mentioned accent gaining momentum.
“Don’t tell the man how to do his job,” Phil chastised.
“I’m not telling him how to do his job, I just don’t like -”
Phil cut a glare at you that made the words die on the tip of your tongue. “I assume you’ve been brought up to date, Steve?”
“Yes, sir,” Steve confirmed, eyes lingering on you for a moment before landing on those of Phil. “There are a few questions I have, if that’s alright.”
“Absolutely. Fire away, as it were,” Phil chuckled at his own joke, one that made you roll your eyes again.
Steve cleared his throat at the flare of awkwardness in the room, emanating from Y/N. “I assume all other members of security have been thoroughly vetted?”
“They have,” Phil confirmed. He strolled over to a standing filing cabinet, unlocked the top drawer, and opened it, pulling out three very thick folders, which he then handed to Steve. “Please feel free to look them over. If you have any concerns, don’t hesitate to let me know.”
After accepting the files and tucking them under his arm, Steve didn’t wait to ask his next question. “Based on the nature of the threats, I assume ‘round the clock service will be required. Where will I be staying?”
“Twenty-four hours a day, that is correct,” Phil confirmed.
“Dad, you can’t be serious,” you groaned, arms crossed under your chest.
Phil went on as if he hadn’t heard you. “I have rented an entire floor of The William Vale.”
“For how long, sir?”
“As long as necessary, Steve,” Phile answered. “Now, if there is nothing else…”
Steve shook his head as Phil’s voice drifted off. “No, sir.”
You should have known better than to try and break into the conversation. “I have someth-”
“That’s good to hear.” Phil shook Steve’s hand once more before showing him to the door. “I’ve got a full day of meetings ahead of me. I expect a full report on how the first day went.”
“Yes, sir,” Steve agreed, his eyes quickly finding you. “Are you coming, ma’am?”
Gritting your teeth, you grabbed your bag and stormed over to your father. “Have a good day,” you said before brushing a kiss to his cheek. You might have been unbelievably pissed off at him, but the man was still your father.
You were sitting in the backseat of the luxury vehicle, trying to focus on the task at hand; composing a speech to give at an upcoming fundraiser, but your mind was focused on the man in the passenger seat directly in front of you.
When you heard you were getting a bodyguard, you had expected someone middle-aged, soft around the middle, maybe even losing his hair, anyone other than Steve Rogers. He had a head full of dirty blond hair, eyes that could probably drill through cement if he stared hard enough at it, a jaw that flexed in a hypnotizing manner. The man’s shoulders were wide enough that he had to twist before walking through an open door, and you were sure you could hear the seams of his jacket and shirt screaming for help whenever he moved.
Nope, you couldn’t do that; notice the rough beauty of your new bodyguard. Besides, you hated having him around. You didn’t need him, you could go about your days and nights without having someone there at all times. Fucking babysitter.
His eyes met yours in the rearview mirror. “Ma’am, is everything alright?”
Shit, you hadn’t realized you were staring. “Everything’s fine, Steve. I’m just anxious to get to the office.”
Your office was across town, almost as far away from Coulson Industries as you could get without crossing the river. It was a non-profit that catered to the homeless. It wasn’t a shelter, though you had plans for the ground to break on one the following spring, but the center was a safe place, a place they could take a hot shower, get a haircut, find some clean clothes, toiletries, personal items that normal people wouldn’t think to donate, wash whatever items of clothing they wanted to keep. While it wasn’t considered a shelter, there was a room in the back full of beds and cribs. Overnight stays were legally frowned upon, but naps and times of rest were not. You knew you were toeing a line, but you didn’t care. These people and their families were suffering. If no one was going to help them, you would do everything in your power to step up.
Steve nodded before giving your driver instructions. “Take Park.”
“No,” you immediately disagreed. “Pietro has been my driver for the last five years. He knows where he’s going. Stay on the normal route, Pietro.”
“Yes, Y/N,” Pietro acknowledged.
Steve shook his head and repeated his previous instruction. “There’s a forty-five minute delay up ahead, ma’am.”
“You’re not my driver, Steve,” you ground out, rage simmering just below the surface.
He glared at you in the rearview mirror. “No, ma’am, I am not your driver,” he agreed, his accent thicker than before. “I’m your bodyguard, and anyone that is in your father’s employ, will do as I deem fit, as per your father’s instructions… ma’am. Take Park.”
Pietro flipped on the signal and quickly changed lanes, taking the route as directed. He had both hands on the wheel as he pulled off the main road.
Stormy eyes drilled into yours as if daring you to say another word. When you didn’t, he turned his attention to the passing scenery, watching for any kind of danger. Although, you didn’t understand how he could possibly see anything, what with Pietro cruising at a swift seventy miles per hour.
Thirty minutes later, Steve was escorting you through the building, insisting that he go through every door first and do a sweep of the room before allowing you to enter. By the time you got to your office, you didn’t really care if there was some kind of threat behind the door. You just wanted to get in and sit down behind your desk and get some goddamn work done!
Steve had just emerged from the bathroom when you stormed in. “I didn’t give you the all clear, ma’am,” he said tiredly.
You huffed in irritation as you hung up your jacket and scarf. “Believe it or not, I have a deadline to meet today. The time wasted on clearing each and every room I pass through -”
“Is time that you’re not dead,” Steve growled. “Ma’am.”
“Look, you’ve got a job to do, I get it. But, you need to understand that I also have a job to do,” you informed him flatly. You pulled out the notebook and files from your bag with one hand, and flipped on your laptop with the other, your eyes already taking in a plethora of information.
Steve stood there, hands clasped behind his back, his jaw flexing. “I’ll be outside if you need me, ma’am.” His accent was heavier than before, and it made you wonder just how angry he would have to be to slip into full Irish.
After he left your office, Steve found a spot in the center of the large room, and stood there, his back to the wall, his eyes taking in everything that was happening around him, including you inside of your office, clearly visible through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls. You fought down the urge to draw the blinds, to hide from his prying eyes. You had never once drawn them before, having told the employees, volunteers, and those seeking help that you were available at all times, no matter what.
However, with Steve standing guard and his piercing gaze taking in every inch of everything you were doing, following you whenever you left your office, no matter where you were going, it started to make the back of your neck crawl.
God, this whole thing was going to take some getting used to.
THREE: Establishing Command
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