Steve
Steve was sitting at his desk, paperwork piled high in front of him. It was late, almost midnight, but you knew he’d still be here. He’d been away with Bucky and Sam for a few weeks and now he was buried under a mountain of reports to review and fill out. He didn’t look up right away when you knocked on the doorframe, but as he finished signing off that report he glanced up at you with a tired smile.
“Hey Steve? Can we talk for a minute?” you stood at his doorway nervously, arms slightly crossed as you traced your elbow lightly with your thumb. You met his gaze for a quick second before looking down at your arms.
“Of course, take a seat” his voice was gentle, like talking to a wild animal. You weren’t usually this reserved, so it wasn’t hard for him to catch on that something was wrong.
You didn’t move from where you stood, “It should only take a minute.” Silence descended as he waited for you to speak again.
“I don’t think I should be going on any missions for a bit.”
His brow furrowed and he laid his pen down on the desk, “Why not?”
A deep breath slid through your lips, “I’m not doing too well. I don’t want to actively die. But if I did die I wouldn’t really be upset? And it’s not fair to do that to you guys. So I think I should just stay home for a while.”
The tower was quiet at this time of night, it was too late for those with normal sleeping habits to be up, but too early for the nightmares to awaken most of the team yet. The stillness seemed to drag on forever after your confession, until Steve slowly got to his feet and moved to stand in front of you.
Steve opened his arms slowly, and waited for you to make the first move. You didn’t move as tears began to pool in your eyes but as the dam broke you stepped forward into his embrace. As his arms wound around you, you clutched at him like he was the last life preserver left on a sinking ship. Neither of you spoke for a long while, the muted sounds of you crying the only sound.
Once you’d cried yourself out, you stepped back out of his grasp and smiled at him sadly, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t ever be sorry for not being okay, Doll. You don’t have to be okay all the time. It’s perfectly okay to not be okay. Do you want to talk about it?”
You nodded and he guided you to take a seat on the couch in his office, and he handed you the blanket he kept draped over the back. As you settled in, he heated up water in the electric kettle he kept in his office for late nights. You zoned out, collecting your thoughts, and you weren’t sure how much time had passed before he handed you a mug of hot chocolate with mini marshmallows. Steve took a seat next to you on the couch and you sat facing him, your back to the armrest and the blanket covering your lap as you sat criss-cross.
The two of you talked all night, and he offered you small words of comfort as you talked, careful not to interrupt as you told him everything. By the time the first traces of sunlight crept through the window, you’d shifted to lean against his side, his arm draped over your shoulder as his thumb gently traced circles against your skin. You dozed off as the sun came up in the distance, but Steve didn’t move or say a word. Steve stayed with you until your therapist came in later that morning, and as you headed off to meet with them, he hugged you tight. You shot him a quick smile as you headed into their office. Things weren’t magically going to get better, but as you stepped through the door you couldn’t help but remember that old saying, Things Are Always Darkest Before The Dawn.