#and even tho I’ve kinda had a constant itch that something completely explains why I’m this way but am too scared to bring it up bc of

[nightly-ruse]

I think I may be a little odd

[peacefulwriter88]

One That Got Away - Chapter 2

Steve Rogers x OFC Ariadne Bellamy

Chapter 2: Between the Bars

Universe: Marvel Canon

Rating: M for Mature (Language, Sexual tones eventual)

“Well that was a bust.”

Steve gives a low chuckle as he follows Sam out of the brownstone, the soft rays of the bright sun greeting them.

“You weren’t kidding when you said rent was outlandish on this island. Not like I didn’t believe you but goddamn…that’s like….someone’s paycheck. Like both our paychecks and maybe even Natasha’s for good measure.”

Steve chuckles and nods, stuffing his hands into the thick blue bomber jacket that he hugged tighter to his frame.

“You’re telling me,” he flickers his eyes back up at the brownstone, before taking a look around the neighborhood and sighing. “I’m starting to think that I might have to just be ok with living in the tower for a few months longer.”

“Fucking sucks,” Sam agrees and then nudges him, trying to lighten the situation, “But at least someone else agreed. That cutie with the outburst before storming out. That was pretty bold. And also why she’s the kinda girl I’d probably hang out with in high school….” He pauses a second, before chuckling and shaking his head, “Who am I kidding, she’d be too cool for me in high school. College for sure tho – I think she’d be a great wing woman.”

Steve can tell Sam is just waiting for him to laugh at the small joke he’s inserted into the statement, waiting for some kind of positive response. Normally, Steve would feed it to him. Instead he’s distracted this morning, his mind is working overtime and though he gives Sam a small smile, Sam can already tell that it’s insincere, not reaching his eyes. Steve hates that Sam has the type of silent ability to read him, to pull out the parts of his personality he tries to keep hidden from the rest of the world and turns away instead, allowing the bill of his cap to shield his eyes.

“The price of the brownstone wasn’t what was pushing her over the edge. Though it definitely wasn’t helping her mood.” Steve offers instead and Sam raises a speculative eye,

“She wasn’t?”

“No,” Steve starts to move down the block, away from Sam who is quick to catch up just in time to catch the tail end of the response “She was telling her friend to back off from coming over to say hi to us.”

Sam stops walking mid stride, allowing his brain to process something before he sighs and catches up to Steve’s constant pace.

“You and your damn super soldier hearing. Is there anything that gets past you?” He waits a beat but Steve doesn’t answer.  Instead keeps his lips in the same tight line they had been all morning, barely erupting into a smile and only for the benefit of Sam. “Okay then Cap, then tell me this. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of her. The minute her and her friend walked in I saw the way you were immediately drawn to her.”

Sam notices the small flinch Steve makes, before the super soldier is snorting and shaking his head. Putting up walls. Guarding himself.  

“What are you talking about Sam?”

“You don’t think I didn’t see the way your eyes flickered over to her throughout that showing? I saw how much you kept glancing over to her. She piqued your curiosity and I don’t think it was just because of how cute she was. You should’ve followed her dude. Asked for her number.”

Steve gives Sam the same smile, sad and uninterested though his mind is drifting somewhere else.   Sure, he could’ve done that. That would have been the easiest thing to do but….it wasn’t in his nature to make the first move. Not when he didn’t know how the outcome would play. His hesitancy was more than his nerve – he also had the new burden of his celebrity. It was hard to connect with anyone, women or no, because the intentions of humans were always unclear and complicated.  

Even though he had been intrigued by you, even though he was curious to get to know you just a bit more, the outcome didn’t weigh out as worth the trouble. So you were a cute girl that he had missed out on connecting. It wasn’t the end of the world.

Many more would come and go throughout his cursed path in life. No point in lingering for this one.

“Steve! Are you listening man?” Sam nudges him again and Steve nods, shaking his head. Despite the fact that sometimes Sam would pry and push him in moments like this, Samuel Wilson had been one of the better things that had happened in Steve’s life in this decade.  While he had a handful of good friends, he could honestly say that Sam was one of his closest by and by. Kept him from going insane, from staying in his head and allowed him to open up.

But most importantly, Sam was one of the very few people that Steve had learned to trust in recent years. Which spoke a lot about the character of the former Army vet.

“Yea Sam I’m listening,” Steve looks over at him, this time humor finally dancing along with the smile he throws his way, “You want breakfast. Why do you think I’ve been steering us away from my bike and toward the direction of food?”

Sam furrows his eyebrows together, getting a bearing on his location before chuckling and nodding.

“Didn’t even realize….damn man,” Sam’s voice is amused as he places a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I should know better than to doubt you – Steve my hero.”

Sam’s voice is dripping with sarcasm and Steve rolls his eyes, laughing as he shrugs his hand off of him.

“You’re ridiculous. But this place has been around since even I was a kid and still makes a mean omelet. And would be the perfect place to hear about how you and Bucky are faring…”

Sam rolls his eyes, grunting as they near the doors of the familiar restaurant. It would be Steve’s strategy to woo him with greasy diner food to understand why Sam couldn’t get along with the other super soldier. Steve knows it, and knows that it would probably result in a quiet breakfast which he was greedy for. He’d only been up for four hours but he already was exhausted by the world, was already over the day to day motions. They walk in, allowing the familiar hearty food to great his nostrils as his eyes survey the place. It seemed like nothing had changed here, was one of the few places he felt he could let go of the breath he was always holding. He’s about to suggest a place to sit when he hears it. A low feminine voice that seems oddly familiar and he turns his head to be accosted, again, by you.

Your eyes look like moss caught in amber as the sun hits them through the glass pane, doe eyed and complemented by curly lashes that are unable to fall into its natural motion of blinking. Your mouth is agape before you turn, your hair that’s pulled back into a bun on top of your head following with you as you fall into the old cushioned seats and though he can’t see it, he hears the way you press your foot against your friends, the way she whimpers an “oww” before she’s kicking you back.

He smiles.

He was used to seeing people reacting like this, women especially. It was flattering really. Though usually women, by this time, were trying to garnish his attention even in the subtlest of ways. You were doing everything in your power to stay hidden, to push yourself away from him. It made him curious to understand why, and though he did want some time to himself he also wanted to combat the boredom that was encroaching in his mind, in his soul. This would at least me amusing, and it was enough to get him to tug on Sam’s jacket, nodding his head over in your direction and saying,

“Let’s head over there.”

He doesn’t wait to see if Sam follows, he know he will and can’t help but smile further as your friend’s eyes grow larger and you fall deeper into the seat.

This would be amusing indeed.

“Hey,” he says lowly when he rounds your seat, and you blink up at him as he continues, “You were at the Open House down the block, right? Told that agent she was out of her mind for the overpriced brownstone?”

You nod and he clears his throat.

“I’m Steve. This is Sam,” he nods over at Sam who is watching Steve with amused ease. “I thought it was pretty awesome what you did back there. You mind if we join you? I’d love to sit and chat with someone who is equally looking to rent on this island. See if they have any tips?”

You just blink up at him, he can hear your heart hammering in your chest before your friend kicks you again and you throw her a look before clearing your throat and nodding.

“Ye..ye….yes. yea. Yes. Sure. If…you want.”

He smiles as he slides into the booth seat beside you, his smile never leaving.

“Perfect.”

Breakfast starts off awkward. You spend a solid ten minutes not saying anything, just sitting there flickering your eyes between him, Sam and your roommate. At one point you laugh at something Sam says, but it’s not enough to pull anything out of you.

It’s a stark contrast to the energy you had an hour earlier and he wonders what about him makes you shut down completely.

You’re roommate on the other hand – Ellie – has flipped roles with you and has become unseeingly chatty. She had been quiet – timid when he had observed the two of you earlier. Now she was filling in the quiet, chatting earnestly with Sam and him as you observed her in silence, smiling occasionally as you sipped on coffee. He figured it was probably a result of the three coffee’s she had been downing, her eyes flickering between you and him as she explains that you both lived in Queens. Correction, that you both had grown up in Queens and had been best friends since you were six, living on the same block and going to the same schools though you had been the one to leave the city for a spell after graduating from NYU to live abroad. He learned that she was a makeup artist for a salon and occasionally socialists throwing parties throughout the city and that you were a sports journalist for ESPN. That though you loved the house that you both rented from her grandmother you were both itching to live closer to the island.

It's only when your food arrives that Sam and Ellie switch the conversation to themselves, giving him space to try to engage with you.

“You don’t rub me as the kind of girl who’s shy.”

He’s precise with the pepper he shakes over his eggs as your eyes widen, then narrow as you look over at him,

“What makes you think you know the kind of girl that I am?”

Your voice is cautious, protective, like he’s done something to offend you. Curious. It’s not jealousy, you seemed genuinely amused by Ellie’s urge to spill out your life story. But there is something else that has you holding back from him.

He proceeds cautiously as he forks into his eggs,

“I don’t know. You seemed pretty bold and outspoken back at the viewing. It’s an odd contrast to how you’re acting now.”

“I didn’t have enough coffee this morning and let’s be real – that real estate agent was pushing too hard with the wrong crowd of people.”

A fair statement but he doesn’t know how else to respond beyond, “that’s fair” before its followed by more silence. He shifts in his seat, his eyes flickering over to you another time as your eyes keep focused on the meal in front of you.  He’s never really striked out before with a girl, not since he became Steve 2.0 and the fact that you weren’t impressed by him both annoys and excites him at once. It rattles him. He also wasn’t used to this confident feeling that was running through his veins, the realization that his modern good looks was something he’s taken for granted, that somehow he’s garnered Bucky’s confident attitude.

It makes him uncomfortable and he shifts again, getting lost in his thoughts as you clear your throat and ask,

“What’s inspired you to look for a new place? That big shiny tower downtown not cutting it for you?”

It takes him a moment to realize that you are directing the question to him, that Sam and Ellie haven’t stopped their cadence in their conversation and that you’ve stopped eating to take the time to look over at him and listen.

He debates giving you a superficial answer, the same one he’s retold too many a real estate agent or stranger, but then he looks into your eyes, those soft orbs that take him off guard and he feels it would be un-dutiful to lie to someone like you.

The fact that you drive this thought through him makes him uneasy,

“I love my team – don’t get me wrong,” another shift in his movement, adjusting his body to look toward you, “buts it’s nice having my own space. And I’m not getting that right now. That and…Sam thinks it would be nice if I could create distance between my work and creating a personal life.”

He says the last part lowly, hoping you don’t catch it though the way your eyes soften at the edges as you return to your food says otherwise before you’re saying,

“You mean Captain America doesn’t want to spend endless hours stressing out? I couldn’t imagine wanting that kind of space…”

He chuckles, taking a hearty bite out of the scrambled eggs he’s scooped up, taking his time chewing, debating his next response before he replies,

“Yea. I like being a calculative ball of anxiety and stress on behalf of our country.”

It’s a lame excuse at humor, it comes off a bit flat and he internally face palms himself at the ridiculousness of the statement. Whether you care or not doesn’t matter, you still laugh underneath your breath as you scoop potatoes into your omelet and nod,

“Why would you be? A country like this?,” Your voice is laced with sarcasm as you look over at him “Where solid values dissipate with convenience and selfishness, morality seems to border on narcissism and the word freedom is an illusion so that rich, white men can keep everyone else in check,” you take a big scoop of eggs looking at him and chewing before saying with your mouth full, “With a world like that and manners like these why wouldn’t you want to save me or anyone else?”

It breaks him. It’s the first time he’s been around anyone who doesn’t try to keep up with his façade of perfection, of purposefully being rude for the sake of breaking proper etiquette. It relieves him – doesn’t realize that he’s needed someone to look beyond the idea of him and be as human with him as he tries to be to them and the relief  causes him to laugh. It’s loud and boisterous, filling up the space in the restaurant and causing a few patrons to look their way. You laugh along with him, having to peel away to take a sip of water and though Ellie and Sam pull away from their conversation to see what has caused the shift between the both of you, they don’t insert themselves into their conversations.

They giving knowing looks to the other, returning back to whatever it was they were speaking about as Steve puts his fork down, wiping his eyes.   

“Didn’t consider you a cynic.”

“I’m not a cynic,” you scoff, taking another sip of your water before continuing, “I’m just aware where I stand in this modern world and couldn’t imagine what it must feel like for you to operate in it. I’m not saying it was peachy keen your time – aside from war your society wasn’t ready to really address things like race and sex and other categories that differentiate one human from another. But I’m sure being here, a society where a lot of the generations haven’t been bridged by the fear of loss and thus able to operate in happy isolation, disconnected from others despite all the opportunities to find collectiveness has to be…I don’t know. Difficile?” he furrows his eyebrows together and you chuckle, “Challenging.”

He watches you for a moment. There’s a pit in his stomach that he normally swallows down, allows himself to wade in when he’s left alone in the privacy of his room and he’s stuck reflecting on this same topic alone. Perhaps it’s the precise way you call out what he has to deny himself on a constant basis, the truth that he must cover up with lies.

It shuts him down, causes him to get lost in his thoughts. You must feel it, the shift in the air and the tension that’s created and you hesitantly place your left hand over his free one, speaking lowly,

“I take what your team does as an example. Here in the streets of Manhattan we had aliens….fucking aliens, fall from the sky and attack us. To try to destroy humanity. And you and your team fought for that – fought for the rest of our rights to live. Right? That should garner some kind of award?”

You’re watching him carefully, giving his hand a squeeze and he gives a slight nod,

“But instead of thanks – of rewards, Tony Stark Industries and so by default The Avengers had nearly a two year long lawsuit because of the amount of physical damage that was done on the city. No one was blaming the goddamn alien beings that came down to hunt them down – oh no that would’ve been too simple. Instead they defaulted on you and your team and I get that to a degree….we can’t sue the aliens who are left over for collateral damage technically. But now you’re all under a microscope for trying to save our lives. The modern man sues The Avengers for destroying his store though the damage was the result of saving the man’s life. Against, one more time because I still wake up some days and can’t believe – A GODDAMN ALIEN SPECIES!? My world has allowed the message of fiscal values to run their lives so when people do try to fight for the good it gets jaded in the narrative. I think that has to be…well beyond annoying but more importantly must play an interesting burden on you.”

There’s silence that lingers between the both of you. You’re not looking at him with pity in your eyes, not giving him that fake pained look of understanding. There’s truth behind your irises, an empathy that causes him to swallow thickly, to cast his eyes away from your own and down to your hands that are together. You pull away, suddenly aware of the intimate motion and lean against the window, away from him as you clear your throat.

“If I overstepped my boundaries, feel free to tell me. God knows I have a tendency to say too much and I’m not trying to psychoanalyze y-“

“You’re not overstepping,” he cuts you off frowning. “It’s just the first time I’ve heard someone who’s not a part of my world articulate it to me. I’m just trying to process this.”

You nod, grabbing your coffee taking the sip as you watch him. Your patient as he tries to find his words, tries to find a way to deflect the things that make him feel stripped, naked.

“So you’re saying the man who’s had his whole livelihood ruined because I’ve thrown an eight foot alien through his kitchen shouldn’t be mad?” he picks up his orange juice, taking a sip. Curious to understand your intention.  

“No,” you respond, crossing your legs in front of you as you sit up a bit. You’re wearing black leggings and a low dip t-shirt underneath your jean jacket and he tries to not allow his eyes to focus on the way your cleavage ripples from your breath. You really were a beautiful woman.

“He should be upset, that’s not illogical,” You look up, your eyes shifting back and forth as you try to debate your next words, “But there is, to a degree, some need to have appreciation – to tap into your humanity. The alien was going to come in and damage the man’s shit whether he likes it or not. You went the extra step of not only saving his life, but allowing him a future to rebuild his store. It’s not to say that you aren’t just in the heavy way you lay the hands of justice because you and your crew are savage…” you watch him carefully before continuing. “But that is the material. Not to be undermined of his livelihood and also the knowledge that your group so willingly contributed to reconstruction. The thing is, we use you when it’s convenient for us and scold you very similarly. You all have become the gods of Olympus and that power almost naturally creates fear for those who don’t understand that not all use it for evil. That’s all.”

“So it's fine because we are willing to fix things up? Everything doesn’t fall into place like that.”

“I know that.” You take a sip out of the porcelain container, frowning.

“Its fair that people get upset with us. Sometimes the damage we cause is far greater than what it would have been. Anger is a natural response.”

“I know that too,” you counter, leaning into him. “I never said that people’s anger isn’t displaced, it should live there. But on the long term, people shouldn’t harbor resentment towards you and you shouldn’t harbor the weight of guilt for trying to do what’s best for them.”

You’re giving him those eyes again, the soft kind that makes him want to be encircled in your arms, wrapped in your presence. He didn’t like how quick you are, witty, so he buffers it away by giving a wry smile,  

“This is as personal to you as it is to me. Seems to me that this is stemming from something deeper.”  

You take a deep breath, a smile emerging on your face as you return to your plate, taking a bite.

“Someone you know?”

“Yea,” Ellie mutters underneath her breath, inserting herself into the conversation for the first time since they’ve started to eat. “Her father.”

“Ellie!” you counter back and she shrugs,

“What!? He deserves to know how much you defend him and where this is coming from.”

You sigh, shifting out of your comfortable stance and returning to your meal. He can see the walls go up, can feel the way you stiffen. He wonders if this is what it’s like for Sam when Steve’s pushed and not ready for it.

He respected that. It made him want to get to know you more. It showed that you valued your vulnerability, was mindful with where you placed your trust.

Wasn’t going to budge it for him despite knowing who he was.

He hadn’t experienced anything like that with a woman since...

“Anyways,” you say, cutting his thoughts and pushing your plate away from you after a few minutes and looking over at Ellie, “I have a really big piece to finish editing as the deadline is tonight and I’ve not even glanced at it since I looked at it yesterday. And Ellie has…..a thing.”

Ellie scrunches her face as you grab your purse.

“I don’t have a – “

You raise your hand as you turn toward Steve, giving him a rueful smile,

“I hate to eat and run just a lot to do. But this was really nice. Not everyday you get to have breakfast with Captain America and the Falcon….”

You were good. Understood the art of slithering away from things that challenged you and made you uncomfortable. He knew this pattern, lived it every day since he awakened from ice. He choose to fight – seemed your art was flight.

It disappoints him, though, that he’s the trigger that causes you to default to this. He wanted to get to know you, to understand you.  He likes how upfront you are, how careful you are with your words, the depth you bring.

But he also understood being forced into something without any voice and he didn’t want to be like that for you.

So he does the next best thing,

“We enjoyed it too. It was nice getting to know you. Let me grab breakfast – the least I can do for interrupting your morning.”

You stop your movements for just a second, before your shaking your head incessantly.

“You don’t have to…”

He smiles, moving out of the booth as he looks down at you,

“Please. It would be an honor.”

Your lips twitch up earnestly, two dimples digging into each of your cheeks before you chuckle and nod your head,

“Ok.”

He wants to ask for more, your number, a chance to meet up for coffee. Except when you stand up beside him, chest for chest as you look up at him, he knows he shouldn’t. You had been courteous to let him bully his way into your morning breakfast and he should respect that now you needed your freedom.

“Good luck on your article.” He offers instead and you smile, nodding.  

“Good luck with….saving the world.”

You both stare at each other. He wants to leave but there’s something pulling him to you, urges him to want to brush the hair from your eyes and press his lips against your own. He doesn’t like it. He’d only known you in an hour and already he felt all logic thrown out the window. You threatened vulnerability.

He couldn’t afford it.

And you deserved better.   

“Nice meeting you Sam. It was great hearing all of your stories.”

Ellie’s voice breaks you both and you shift your bag over your shoulder, leaning away from him as you smile over at Sam.

“Great to meet you Sam. You both have a great one….and thanks again for breakfast!”

You all but pull Ellie away from the both of them as she waves candidly, smiling and giving a confused look from yourself back to Steve.

“Smooth Steve, real smooth.”

Sam's voice breaks Steve’s attention away from your disappearing form and Steve turns to him, hands stuffed back in his pocket.

“What?”

“Didn’t ask for her number?” Sam raises an unexpected eye and Steve shrugs, sitting back down in his seat.

“Didn’t think she wanted me to ask.”

Sam snorts, shaking his head.

“Steve, considering how brilliant you are – you know jack shit when it comes to women.”

Tag List:  @ssweet-empowerment@capsofwinchesters@tacohead13@harleycativy@pietrotheavenger@francezka10@papichulosebastian@obsessionsofmynerdheart@melaninmarvel@avengedqueen26@nasteaxluvgal@winterbuttmunch@nys30@buckyslongasshair@ohlumi@wellthirsted @gifsbysimplysonia