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“Steve?”
Startled, he wiped the tears from his eyes and cleared his throat. “Hey, Y/N,” he muttered. He poured another drink from the bottle beside his elbow and downed it in just a couple of swallows. He dropped the glass back onto the table and shook his head. “Did you know I can’t get drunk?”
You strode across the debris left of the bar and pushed yourself between Steve’s legs and onto his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your head against his. Your own tears slid down your cheeks.
“I’m so sorry,” you murmured.
He nodded, a long, stuttering breath rushing out of him, his arms sliding around your waist, tightening as he crushed you to his chest, so tight you almost couldn’t breath. His head fell to your shoulder, his face buried against the side of your neck, his tears soaking the collar of your shirt.
You held him, your lips pressed to his temple, your fingers running through his hair, soft words falling from your mouth. You knew that you couldn’t make it better, couldn’t fix it, but you could be there for Steve, be a comfort in this storm that had invaded his life, hold him, love him, protect him. You wouldn’t let the loss of his best friend destroy him.
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It had been eight months since Steve had disappeared into the depths of Wakanda with T’Challa and Bucky, refusing to take you along, claiming it was for your own good. He was considered a fugitive, a criminal, and he didn’t want to drag you into that world. So he’d left you behind, promising he’d come for you as soon as he could.
You threw your keys on the kitchen table, locked the back door behind you, and slipped into one of the beat up chairs. You laid your head on your arms and closed your eyes. Everyday you had to live without Steve was exhausting, the emotional turmoil of being away from the man you loved taking its toll. You just wanted it to be over.
“You’re just going to sit there and not say hello?”
Your head shot up, so fast it made you dizzy. Steve was in the doorway between your kitchen and living room, leaning against the wall, hands shoved deep in his pants pockets, a smile on his face.
“Steve?”
“Miss me?” he murmured.
You flew out of your chair and into his arms, your arms sliding around his waist as you pressed yourself flush against his body. Steve ducked his head, caught your lips in his, tentative at first, kissing you as if he’d forgotten what it was like, but it didn’t take long for rote memory to take over, his hands sliding up to cup your cheeks, his hips slotted against yours, his tongue pushing into your mouth, both of you moaning as your tongues met, a spark of heat blasting through you. The kiss was long, relentless, perfect.
You couldn’t breathe properly when he finally released you, your legs were trembling, your hands shaking, your heart pounding. Steve tipped your head back and kissed your neck until he was back at your mouth, another kiss that made you desperate with need.
“You came back,” you sighed, clutching his arms, refusing to let even an inch of space get in between you.
Summary: You don’t know what you’d do if something happened to Steve. Word Count: 336 [tags under the cut] Warnings: Angst, fluff Author’s Note: We’re super excited about these drabbles and hope you enjoy them.
My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.
Your heart had dropped the moment contact with Steve was lost. This… it couldn’t be happening, you couldn’t lose Steve, not now, not when you just found him. It had been a whirlwind; almost dying, only to be saved by none other than Captain America. At first, you thought it might just be the Florence Nightingale Effect; falling in love with the person that saved your life. But as it turned out, Steve was falling for you, and fast.
The mission was supposed to be easy, simple smash and grab; kill all the bad guys, save the prisoner, but something went terribly wrong. The signal went dead ten minutes from the compound, and every second dragged by as if it were an hour.
It was smothering, the thick silence that surrounded you, whispering into your ear that Steve wasn’t going to make it, that he had died without hearing that you loved him. The cold tendrils of fear gripped your heart and squeezed, its ragged nails tearing into the muscle. And just when you thought you were going to fall to the floor, the door opened, and Steve walked… well, limped in.
With tears streaming down your face, you ran to him, colliding with him a long moment later, the pair of you grunting at the impact. You’re on your toes, kissing him frantically, your hands pressed against his back, nails gripping at the torn fabric of his dark suit.
Steve’s shoulders bowed as he curled around you, his hands on your face, wiping away the tears. He’s murmuring something between each kiss, something you can’t focus on right then, because it’s not important. What was important was that Steve wasn’t dead, he was there, with you, holding you close, heart pounding in time with yours.
When the calluses of his fingers scraped against your back, digging into the soft flesh as if he were trying to pull you into him, you broke down and sobbed, comforted only by the promises he whispered into your ear.
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Steve moaned, his body tensing, his eyes rolling back in his head, a shudder running through him. He sprawled over you, his chest heaving, his face buried against the side of your neck. Your limbs were tangled with his, arms intertwined, your foot hooked around the back of his thigh, his fingers twisted in your hair.
He pushed himself to his elbows, his hips still nestled against yours, every inch of you still overly sensitive, the slightest movement sending a tingle of need through you, despite the multiple orgasms you’d had. He kissed you, soft and easy, unhurried, the corner of your mouth, a brush across your lips before he rolled to his back, tucking an arm beneath you and around your waist, keeping you tight against his side. He dragged his fingers up and down your spine, kissing your temple and grinning when you squirmed a little, your breasts pressed against his arm.
Your lips were against his neck and you were peppering him with kisses, up and down the line of his throat, over his shoulder and chest, taking your time, memorizing every mole, every mark, every scar, even the taste of his skin against your tongue. You didn’t want to forget anything about Steve or this moment, any moment with him. You ended at his mouth, leaning over him, your lips pressed to his, sighing as he rolled to his side, his body flush against yours, the kiss deepening.
When you finally broke apart, you rested your forehead against Steve’s chest, smiling to yourself as his fingers continued dancing along your spine.
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