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“they really appreciate you, you know?” he says, still facing forward. he’s being going at this for months. trying to convince you that the team sees you as part of their family. the woods seem endless, stretched out by your tiredness from the mission and aching limbs still wrapped in a tact suit, and yet, though you cannot admit it to yourself, a whisper of a wish echoes through your mind. a wish for it to continue, on and on, perhaps on a loop. a wish for his company.
“i do too.”
he looks at you.
“you might be worse than me at taking a compliment.” you raise your eyebrows and huff out a laugh.
“one would think you out of everyone would know how to take praise.” you purse your lips, trying to hide an amused smile. “i mean, since you get it all the time.”
“right.” he scoffs, though his eyes twinkle with beguilement.
“i mean, the great captain america. everything that is wonderful and magical about this country.”
“that’s how you think of me?”
“i said captain america, not steve rogers.” he tilts his head.
“are they not the same?” you shrug your shoulders.
“what do you think?”
“once in a while you could answer a question without deflecting. won’t kill you.”
“it might.” your smile is mischievous. he shakes his head with fake exasperation. he never seems truly upset at you, never acts like having you around is an effort (even though you are pretty certain that it is), so, maybe, you could return the favor and be earnest for once.
you roll your eyes and huff. you’re not annoyed at him. you’re not annoyed at how he makes you feel. you’re just annoyed that it’s so hard to say, to show.
“you alright?” the space between his brows creases with soft concern. you open your mouth, ready to tell him that yes, you are fine. just tired from walking. you feel the deflection making its way up your throat, tensing your vocal chords, but he tilts his head and your mouth closes shut.
“you are steve.” he frowns, confused, and probably worried that you are experiencing a case of sudden amnesia, but before he can ask and deviate you from your mission, you continue. “there would be no captain america without steve rogers, but there would be a steve rogers without captain america.”
his eyes soften, and for a split millisecond you wonder if something just crossed his mind, or if he saw something behind you, because there is no way he could be looking at you like that. but then he says your name, it comes out breathy, almost with wonder, and so warm. you’ve never heard your name said like that. like a prayer, a prize, a solution. something good.
“don’t get all soft on me now, you’re still wearing the suit.”
he laughs an incredulous laugh. the corners of his eyes crinkle with mirth. it’s blinding, it’s light, it’s him.
“i’m always soft on you.” he says after he sobers up, though he is still smiling softly. “just waiting for you to realize it, sweetheart.”
that pet name. god. you might love it even more than when he says your name. he never calls anyone else by anything other than their name, or perhaps a common nickname. but never that. that is only for you. nat says it’s because you are the sweet part of his heart. you think his entire heart is sweet. you don’t understand how you could have a place there; he seems to know that, and that is why he reminds you over and over again in a million different ways that while you might not believe yourself deserving of it, that does not change the fact that to him you are rooted there. you want to be. there is nowhere else you’d like to rest.
you want to tell him everything. that he not only has put down roots in your heart, but that he has merged with the veins and the vessels that pump blood to it. that without him there wouldn’t be an empty space in your heart, there would simply be no heart. you want to be the person who loves loudly, he deserves that, but some wounds are still too deep, too fresh, and they seem to clog your lungs. the declaration gets stuck somewhere in between there and your throat (and your brain). it makes you panic, the fear that he cannot read your mind, your eyes, that he does not and will never know what he means to you, and that, at some point, he will leave to find someone who can and will tell him all of it. reassure him.
“steve…” it’s pleading. you’re sure you look like a scared animal, wild eyes and frantic breathing. without pausing his walk, he side steps a bit, getting closer to you. in a second your hand is enwrapped in his. he squeezes one, two, three times. then he caresses it with his thumb. your steps falter a bit, but you gather yourself quickly. it would’ve been unnoticeable to anyone, but not to him. you never go unnoticed by him.
he leans a bit, his mouth close to your ear and whispers, almost as a secret, as if not even the trees around you should be privy of it. only you.
“i’ll wait. whenever you’re ready. you’re worth all of it.” you shut your eyes tightly, trying to stop the onslaught of tears that are forming too quickly, trusting he will not let you fall as your feet keep moving forward. you hear him chuckle softly, barely, almost just to himself. you look at him. he’s already looking at you. he gives you a lopsided smile that makes you feel like he knows something you don’t, that maybe no one else does, before speaking again. “waited my whole life for ya, what’s a bit more time?”
and for the first time in your life, you believe someone. you believe him.