Never Forget (Part 3) - Steve Rogers
Steve Rogers x Reader
Summary: Things with Steve have been going great, but what happens when you start to feel like you’re not a priority?
Word Count: 1921
Warnings: Just some angst, little bit of language.
A/N: Okay, I’m really proud of this. I thought I wasn’t going to be able to crank out something that wasn’t one hundred percent fluffy, but I did it. Let me know if you liked it!! Also, letting @whiskeyandwashitape & @thelostswan this exists!!
Not my gif, credit to the owner.
This was getting ridiculous.
So far, in your opinion, at least, you’d been a very supportive, easy-going girlfriend. It had been a little over two months with Steve, and you really were falling for him. You loved the way the corners of his mouth flickered upward when you said something stupid, and his dumb, old-fashioned jokes. You loved how the longer you looked into those deep, oceanic eyes, the more lost you got. You loved how he did things just for the sake of being good. And you knew that dating a super soldier was going to be complicated- and it wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t help it that terrorists and aliens and bad men existed and that it fell on his shoulders to take care of it.
That one night - that date at your house that had ended with the two of you sleeping on your couch - had been wonderful. But since then, no date between you and Steve had ever really ended. He would get a phone call or a text or something, and just give you that look, like, I don’t want to go but I have to. And you would insist that everything was fine, that you understood that he had a job to do.
You finally cracked one night when he took you to a carnival. It had been lots of fun - he wore sunglasses and a hat so he wouldn’t get recognized, and won you this cute little red, white, and blue teddy bear. You split a churro with him, and he kissed you at the top of the Ferris wheel. It was very sweet, very When-Harry-Met-Sally-Sleepless-In-Seattle-Rom-Com cute.
You were walking hand-in-hand with him, towards the cotton candy booth, when it happened. His phone beeped, and he glanced down at it. You’d grown accustomed to silently praying every time he looked at his phone - praying that it wasn’t SHIELD or Nick Fury or someone in danger. And he gave you that look, lips slightly pursed and eyebrows knitted in a frustrated kind of way. “I’m sorry, Doll. Duty calls,” he said, shoving his phone back into his pocket and releasing your hand from his.
“Yeah, whatever,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair.
Steve looked slightly taken aback. Usually you were understanding, and you said you weren’t upset and he had to do what he had to do. But this was the second time this week this had happened, and what felt like the millionth time since you’d started dating him. You couldn’t help but be irritated.
“Y/N,” he sighed, looking at you. “I can’t not go. I have to go.”
“I know,” you snapped, rolling your eyes. “Believe me, I know.”
“Don’t be mad,” He said, eyes fluttering towards the exit. “Please, don’t be mad. I’ll… I’ll call you when we’re done, okay?”
“Whatever, fine,” you said, turning your back to him. And when you turned around again, he was gone.
Three days passed until you heard from Steve again.
It was four in the morning, and you woke up to the sound of your phone ringing. Disoriented, and partly blindly since you didn’t have your contacts in, you pulled the charger out and looked at the screen. It was Steve, calling you. What the hell?
You answered it with a hoarse and slightly incoherent, “Hello?”
“Hey, Y/N,” Steve’s voice relieved you. You often went a few days without hearing from him when he went on missions, but you couldn’t help but worry about him. “I just wanted to let you know that we’re all alright. I’m on a plane right now, heading back.”
You slowly sat up, and reached over to turn on your bedside lamp. Even though you were kind of angry at him, you were happy he was alright. “Well, that’s good,” you said with a yawn, leaning against the headboard.
“Oh, god. Did I wake you up?” Steve asked.
“Well, yeah, it’s…” you lifted the phone from your ear to check the time, “It’s 4:17 here, but, I mean…” You rubbed at your eyes. “It’s fine. I’m glad you’re alright.”
“Yeah, me too. So, look, about the other night-”
“You know what, Steve? Just forget about it, okay?” You said, crossing your legs Indian style and pulling a blanket closer to you.
“No, I can’t forget about it, Y/N. You’re unhappy, and I want to fix it.”
“You can’t fix it,” You said, shaking your head. “And honestly, I’m too tired to even talk about it, alright?” This was the first time you’d ever been mad at him, and you didn’t want to deal with it.
“Okay,” he said, sounding defeated and submissive. You hated that he sounded like that. You hated that you were the reason why. “Well, do you want to go back to sleep? I’ll let you go if you want.”
“Actually, yeah,” you said, sighing. “I have a big day at work tomorrow- buy one, get one half-off on heels. Gonna be packed.” You yawned again.
“When do you get off?” He asked, a hint of sadness in his voice. He hated you being mad at him almost as much as you did.
“Six. Come over anytime after that, if you can, alright?”
“Okay. Get some sleep, Doll.”
“I’ll try. Bye, Steve.”
You didn’t sleep.
Work that day was awful, and not just because of the sale and all the people. You couldn’t stop thinking about Steve, and about all the times he’d ditched you to go be a superhero. Your head was in the wrong place, and you couldn’t focus on anything. You even knocked over a display of shoes that one of your subordinates had spent a whole hour putting together.
You were drained, and over it all by the end of your shift. You just wanted to go home and shower and sleep for three days.
When you opened the door to your apartment, you saw Steve sitting on the couch, reading a book. You had given him a key in case of emergencies. You let a lazy, exhausted smile rise to your face. “Hey,” you said quietly, shutting the door and locking it behind you. It was hard to remember that you were mad at him when you missed him so much.
He shut his book and looked at you, that goofy grin on his face. “Hey, Doll,” he said, standing up and walking over to you. He looked cautious, like you were a ticking time bomb. You shook your head and took a step towards him, giving a long, well-needed hug.
“I missed you,” you sighed, dropping your bag at your feet and burying your head in his chest. “I was worried about you.”
He stroked your hair for a moment, and you just stood there, breathing each other in. He smelled like Old Spice.
“I missed you, too, Y/N.”
Finally, you pulled away, and took in a deep breath. Your heart hurt without him, but it didn’t change the fact that you didn’t feel like a priority in his life.
You crossed the room and sat on the couch, feeling relieved to finally be off your feet for the day. Steve sat on the opposite end of the couch from you, leaning against the armrest.
“Can we talk now, Y/N?” He asked, turning to look at you. You crossed your legs, leaning back against the couch.
You sighed. “Yeah,” you said, already wishing this conversation was over.
Steve took in a deep breath, and ran a hand through his hair. “Do you… do you want to break up with me?” he asked, quietly, scared. Like a kid. Fuck, you thought.
“No!” you exclaimed, eyes widening. You grabbed his hand across the couch. “God, no, I don’t want to break up with you. I-I… I’m just…” You groaned, and ran your free hand over your face. “I’m just irritated, because I feel like I’m not a priority, and I know there’s nothing you can do about it. You have a job to do and you have to do, and I feel so guilty about being mad at you for it, but I am, y’know? And maybe I’m not even mad at you. Maybe you’re just the only person I can take it out on.”
“You can be mad at me,” said Steve, pulling his hand away from yours and tangling them in his hair. “I don’t want you to feel like you can’t be mad at me. It’s healthy for couples to argue - I read that somewhere, I think.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to be mad at you, Steve,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t get very much time with you when you’re around, and I don’t want to spend it fighting with you, y’know?”
He nodded. “I’m sorry I’m never around, Y/N,” he said, sighing and looking over at you. “But you know I have to-”
“I know,” you cut him off, standing up and walking into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. “I know. I’ve heard the speech a million times, Steve. You have to protect the people. You have to do what’s right. And I know you can’t, but I wish you could just blow it off sometimes, and no one had to die or anything for you to be able to spend some time with me.”
He followed you into the kitchen and leaned against the doorway as you scoured leftovers for something that seemed appetizing. “Are you ever going to be okay with this?” he asked as you settled on the rest of the sesame chicken you’d had yesterday.
You opened the lid of the Tupperware container and put it in the microwave for forty-five seconds. “I don’t know, Steve. I guess I saw this coming in, and I figured I would just get used to it. But it’s hard, you know? Like, I drop everything for you when you’re in town, and I just feel like I’m the only one trying sometimes.”
“There’s nothing I can do about that, Y/N-”
“I know!” you exclaimed, groaning out of frustration. “God, I know, Steve! You’ve been telling me the same things for the past two months- it’s like you have a script memorized for when you have to leave. And I feel so bad for being angry at you for it, but I am. I’m angry, okay?” The microwave dinged, but you made no move to open it.
“So, what, then?” He asked, irritated, crossing his arms over his chest. You took a sip of your water. “Do you want to call it quits or something?”
“I don’t know,” you sighed, sinking to the floor and leaning against a cabinet, rattling the door with your weight. “I…God. It’s impossible for me not to be happy with you. And we have such a good time together. But I can’t decide if…” you trailed off, deciding not to say it.
“You can’t decide if it’s worth it.” He finished for you, and you looked up at him, nodding slowly in response.
He shook his head. “How about we take a break then?” He said, and your eyes widened. “It makes me sad thinking about not talking to you, but I think you just need some time to think. We both do.” You said nothing. “Call me when you can decide, okay, Y/N?” You just stared at him.
And then he was gone. This time he wasn’t coming back.