Chapter Text
Steve tended to wake up at least once every night. He usually went into the kitchen to drink some water, maybe read something, until he felt sleepy again. Oddly enough, you’d been there a few times, watching some show or movie and inviting him to join you. Every time he did, the two of you fell asleep on the couch and awoke to cheeky comments from the rest of the team.
Tonight, he found you in the kitchen, but his smile disappeared when he heard you sobbing. He called your name, and you turned to him. The sight of the dark bruises all over your face made his heart drop.
“Steve...” you murmured. He could see more tears welling in your eyes, and on instinct, he rushed forward, opening his arms to you. You all but fell against him, crying into his chest.
“Who did this to you?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice from hardening.
You sniffled and pulled away, peering up at him with guilt in your eyes. “Steve, he ... He said he’d never lay a hand on me, he promised and he—”
Steve’s nostrils flared. He saw the way you flinched when his face went cold, and he sighed, knowing the last thing you needed was another angry man in front of you. He cupped your chin in his hand, gently turning your head to examine your cheek. He could only imagine how those bruises would look in the morning. He’d never liked that sack of shit boyfriend, something about the way the man leered at you, talked about you like you were a toy, not a person. You’d vented to Steve about your relationship numerous times—the verbal abuse, the gaslighting, the impossible requests and the belittling of your feelings—and he’d wanted nothing more than to yank the man over by the collar and order him to never come near you again.
“Hey,” he said softly, wiping the tears from your face with his sleeve. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? Sooner we get ice on those bruises, the sooner they’ll heal.”
You blinked, then nodded, allowing him to lift you up and set you on the counter. He went to the freezer and retrieved some ice, and when he came back, he found you looking up at him with so much gratitude he almost blushed.
“Listen,” he started, holding out the ice pack to you. “I know you. I know you’re blaming yourself, wondering what’s wrong with you that would make him act out this way. And there’s nothing wrong with you. It’s all him, sweetheart. He’s a goddamn disgrace of a human being.” His hand clenched into a fist at his side. “There’s no excuse.”
You managed a weak smile, wincing when the action strained your cheek. “Thank you, Steve,” you whispered, beckoning him forward. Obediently, Steve came closer, and you kissed his cheek. “This world needs more men like you.”
He grinned, looking down sheepishly. “I try.”
“You do.” You patted his cheek, your smile brightening. “Thanks for helping me clean myself up.”
“Anything for you.” He hesitated, then leaned forward and kissed your forehead. “Anything.”