Fight
The first thing that hits Steve when he opens the door to his apartment an hour later is the smoke; it’s thick and makes his eyes water. The next thing he notices is the smell of something burning. Then both observations are pushed out of his mind by a sharp constricting feeling in his chest. He begins coughing. The pain from his still healing bullet wound is agonizing as coughs jar the injury. He folds his arms tightly across his body as if that will help, but he’s trembling and dizzy with pain and breathlessness.
“Aww Jeez, I’m sorry.” Two arms take him by the shoulders and gently guide Steve back into the hallway.
“What the…hell Buck?” Steve asks between coughs. His eyes still stinging with tears.
“I was trying to make soup.”
“How do you burn soup? It’s mostly broth!” Steve asks, trying to get his breathing back under control before he triggers a full blown asthma attack. The pain in his side has subsided to a throbbing ache, pulsing with every beat of his overworked heart.
“It’s harder than it looks.” Bucky says a touch defensively, “stay out here while I open the window and clear out the smoke.”
Bucky disappears back inside and Steve leans against the wall. He blinks away the last of the tears, aware that for the first time since he found out that someone was out to kill him that he is completely alone. He had promised the others that he would stay by the windows all evening so they could keep an eye out on him. He strains his ears for the sounds of footsteps or of the safety of a gun being released. Would the assassin even try using a gun again? Or would he try something new, possibly using a futuristic weapon that didn’t even exist yet. That was an unnerving thought. He wouldn’t even know what to look for if that was the case. Suddenly standing out here alone seemed a lot less desirable that the threat of an asthma attack inside.
The smoke is mostly cleared out, though what lingers still tickled his throat and Steve represses a cough, worried Bucky will send him outside again. Carefully Steve makes his way to the open window. A cool breeze is flowing and it feels nice. Pretending to be enjoying the breeze, Steve leans outside and counts the windows on the building next door until he finds the window he’s looking for.
He can’t see anyone in the window, they are clearly experts at their jobs, but he flashes them a grin anyway to let them know he hasn’t been murdered in the five minutes he left their line of sight. He shuts the window and turns back to Bucky.
“So, did you manage to salvage the soup?” He asks.
“It’s fine. It probably won’t kill ya,” Bucky says setting two bowls on their small table.
“Thanks.” The soup is edible, and definitely not the worst thing he’s ever had to eat. He hopes Tony, Clint, and Natasha are eating. He didn’t see Clint or Natasha come back with any food and he doubts there’s any food in that apartment they’re hiding out in.
“You’re awfully quiet.” Bucky observes, “still sore from the fight?”
“Hmm? Oh yeah,” Steve says and his side where the bullet hit twinges.
“So who do I need to beat up?”
“Nobody. I can fight my own battles Buck.” Steve says firmly.
“Clearly. But seriously, let me know who did it.”
“It’s over. Let it drop.” Steve says, setting his jaw stubbornly. Bucky sighs.
“Fine, but the offer still stands.”
After dinner Steve turns in early to avoid any more questions about his bullies. Bucky gives him a look that’s a mix between worried and suspicious, which Steve forces himself to ignore. No use in getting Bucky involved in this.
~*~*~*~
Work is horrible. The hours drag by and Steve has to stop himself from jumping at every customer who walks through the door. He catches sight of Tony walking past the store once and has yet to see Clint or Natasha. He assumes they are watching though, just too professional to be seen. Pull it together Rogers he tells himself firmly after he nearly hits Sally Lovell with his broom when she startles him.
His side burns and the pain radiates from the wound until his whole body feels sore. Every step brings a fresh stab of pain, which Steve fights to ignore. In some bizarre way Steve is grateful that the assassin is still on the loose, because it gives him something else to focus on besides the pain. Of course, when he does think about the assassin it’s always with a thrill of terror.
It’s horrifying to know that an assassin is lurking somewhere out there. Even more so when he realizes that the assassin traveled through time for the sole purpose of killing him. That seems like a lot of effort to go through just to kill one man. After work he forces himself not to go straight home. He had argued against being cooped up in that small apartment for his own safety, he wasn’t about to hide himself away in a different small apartment. Besides the more he was out, the more opportunity for them to catch the assassin.
Steve takes his sketchbook and pencils to Central Park and chooses a secluded area with plenty of trees to work. If bullets start flying he doesn’t want anyone else to accidentally be caught in the crossfire.
He starts sketching. Lines and curves come together to form a picture. It’s what he thinks Iron Man may look like based on what Tony told him about it. He makes a note to show the picture to him later and see how close he got. Personally, he thinks it looks big and clunky, and though Tony explained it to him he still doesn’t understand how the suit flies without actual wings. He draws wings on the suit, sticking out on either side of the back like airplane wings.
“Hey Rogers!”
Steve jumps ready to bolt before he realizes that it would be highly doubtful that a trained assassin would give himself away by calling his name and that he recognizes that voice. Steve straightens his back, and tries not to show just how startled he was.
“What do you want Patrick?”
Patrick Farley was just one of many of the guys who seem to have it out for Steve. Bucky had popped him in the jaw on occasion, but Patrick always came around again looking for trouble sooner or later.
“I never properly repaid you for the lucky bloody nose you got off of me last month.” He says.
“Lucky? You were just lucky that it wasn’t a broken nose.” Steve distractedly. He looks around, too see if Patrick has drawn any unwanted attention to them. The park remains as deserted as before.
“You’ve got a smart mouth, where’s your babysitter?”
“Bucky? Not here. Want me to give you a fat lip to match the nose?” Steve asks and feels a thrill at Patrick’s glare. This is familiar territory; getting into fist fights with the average bully was the norm. Far more normal than assassins and time travel.
“That’s it Rogers, someone needs to put you in your place.” He throws a punch. Steve dodges, twisting and pulling at his still healing bullet wound painfully. The pain only heightens the adrenalin as he throws a punch of his own. He puts all the tension and all the worry from the past day into it and lands a solid punch to his stomach.
There is a brief moment of triumph where Steve thinks he might have the upper hand. Then he’s slammed against the ground. His vision grays out for a few seconds. He doesn’t even see the fist crashing into face. Once, twice, and suddenly Patrick is ripped violently away from him. Steve blinks a few times. Clint comes into focus. His face is a cold blank mask that is somehow more terrifying than any scowl. There’s a knife in his hand, and although he’s not holding it up to Patrick, the threat is clear. A coward at heart Patrick backs down, pulling himself out of Clint’s grip and disappearing amongst the trees before Clint can even say anything.
“Thanks.” Steve grunts as Clint pulls him to his feet.
“What the hell was that about?” Clint growls. He grabs Steve by the face and checks his eyes, “I’m trying to keep you safe from an assassin and you’re trying to get yourself killed in a street fight.”
“I’m fine.” Steve says pulling out of Clint’s grasp. Clint lets go of his face but only so he can grab him by the shoulder.
“Come on. We’re going back to the apartment to get you patched up.” He says steering Steve out of the park.
Natasha and Tony stare at Steve’s bloody nose and face which is already beginning to bruise, as Clint pushes Steve firmly into a chair.
At that moment Steve briefly wonders if Clint is a father, because the scolding look Clint is currently pinning him with is downright parental. Clint crosses his arms and Steve looks away guiltily.
“What happened?” Tony asks.
“Somebody doesn’t know when to shut his mouth,” Clint says handing Steve a cloth so he can wipe his face.
“He started it.” He winces more out of embarrassment than pain when three sets of eyebrows raise at his, admittedly childish, response.
Tony whistles.
“That’s the second fight you’ve gotten into since we’ve been here. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you are an angry rebellious youth. I bet you would even listen to Punk music if it existed.”
Steve just glares at him out of his one good eye.
“Join the army kid. They’ll set you on the straight and narrow.” Tony says with a grin. Steve rolls his eyes, dropping the glare.
“Thanks for helping out,” Steve says to Clint, “I gotta get back to the apartment and change out of my bloody shirt before Bucky gets home.”
Steve stands up, and when nobody stops him, gives them all a grin before walking out. The door quietly snaps shut behind him.
“That boy is going to be the death of me,” Clint says shaking his head.
“Don’t lie, it’s kind of fun busting in and saving a pint sized Captain America,” Tony says.
“Tony this is serious,” Natasha says.
“I am being serious.”
“He was picking a fight with a guy twice his size. If I hadn’t stepped in he would be sporting more than just a bloody nose and a few bruises,” Clint says grumpily.
“Does that surprise either of you?” Tony asks. From their identical expressions, Tony can see that it clearly does.
“Come on, Cap is always the first one to dive head first into a fight with everything we’ve ever fought. You think that started when he got the serum? I dare say our dear Captain, the soul of responsibility, was actually quite the rebel in his youth.” Tony says. Natasha rolls her eyes, while a slow smile breaks out over Clint’s face.
“Why Tony, I think you might be right. I am never letting Cap forget it when we get back either.”
“Just think, next time he tries to give us a lecture about our less than model conduct, we can shut him right up.” Tony says cheerfully, and even Natasha has to smile at that.