the theory of crookshanks

if you send multiple presents, I’ll write 5 for each, and then share that many sentences!

summary: your teammates almost can't stand you when you're huffy and puffy on a particular day. at least, all of them but one, who comes and makes sure you're not upset with him. wc: 1.7k+ cw: suggestive themes, friends to lovers

Steve really doesn’t understand what’s bothering you, and it seems neither do any of your other teammates. After all, you were okay yesterday, but since the morning hit, all Steve seems to hear coming from you are dissatisfied huffs and angry comments. Quite frankly, he’s a little scared, unlike the concern that he sees radiating off of Natasha or the annoyance that’s clear on Tony’s face.

Despite his super soldier serum and the undeniable strength he has over you, he’s still scared when stepping onto the mat with you, making sure his defences stay up quite well in fear that you’ll knock his brains out of his skull. He rolls his eyes when Tony makes a mean comment about hoping you get your anger out so they don’t have to deal with it for the rest of the day. Steve just hopes this bad mood isn’t targeted towards him — he’s praying that you’ve just woken up on the wrong side of the bed, not that your friends have done something to anger you.

Either way, he sneakily changes the training charts so that Peter is now up against Bucky in a sparring round that’s sure to brighten your day. In the meantime, he just has to survive training with you. He’s surprised at the force you immediately display when running kickboxing drills. It’s not that you’re stronger than usual, but he feels the power coming from within you that enhances your movements like you’ve got extra energy you need to spend. Steve secures his feet into the mat so he doesn’t budge, flexing his arms harder while he holds the punching pads so they don’t slam back into his nose.

Steve, ever the encouraging teammate, mutters words of praise as you go along, and he smiles at you softly when you falter after he says “Perfect form, good job.” Your eyes meet his over the punching pads and you swallow thickly, feeling your face go hotter than it already is, even with sweat covering your features. When you switch around, you stand oddly still whilst Steve secures the boxing pads around your arms, tightening the strap so you can comfortably carry it. He tries to be more gentle on you than usual, even if not obviously so, but a furrow of your eyebrows quickly makes him return to using his usual force. Again, he’s unusually scared of you today, but maybe later he’ll buy you coffee and ask if you’re unhappy with him or just life.

“Um, I don’t think I’m going to stay for sparring.” You tell Steve eventually, your voice oddly shy, and it’s hit turn to furrow his eyebrows. “Is everything okay?” You glance at the sparring chart where your name is jotted down right by Steve’s, and you take your bottom lip between your teeth. It’s already torturous enough having to be this close to him for drills, but you can imagine Steve easily tossing you onto the mat before securing his body over yours until you can no longer move, and you’re afraid that if that happens, you’ll have a reaction that will tell everyone on your team exactly how worked up you are today.

You finally nod, unsure what to use as an excuse. “Yeah, I’m just not having my best day.” You settle on. Steve nods, ducking his head down closer to yours to whisper “I put Peter and Bucky together for sparring, if that’ll cheer you up.”

At least you stay for that fight.

It’s entertainment to you, and instead of Steve doing his captain duties and calling out comments for either men to fix their forms or keep their hands in front of their faces, he spends the match looking at you, and ensuring that the smile on your face is really there. You disappear after that, and the entire team immediately turns to throw comments at Steve. Even Peter, that respectful boy, manages to ask “You really put me against Mr. Barnes to make a girl smile, Mr. Rogers? Isn’t that a little cruel?” Steve doesn’t bother defending himself against anyone because he knows that will double the attacks on him.

You’re still in the shower by the time training finishes and Steve heads towards his room to shower, but it seems like the second he strips down and steps into his bathroom, he hears another door open. You trudge down the hallway and head towards the kitchen, intending on filling up your water bottle and disappearing back into your bedroom for no one to find. But Natasha catches you in the kitchen, and she crosses her arms over her chest as she watches your movements, asking with that smooth voice of hers “That shower soothe your worries?”

You glance up at her from the corner of your eye as you straighten up, face contorting into one of confusion. “You know, because you’ve been acting bratty all day?”

At least you seem sheepish at the revelation. Natasha smiles at you with a low chuckle, pausing for a moment to give you a moment to reply. You take a long, greedy sip of water as though to procrastinate having to answer your best friend, then finally reply “Natasha I haven’t been fucked in like three months and my ovulation really had to remind me this morning.”

Natasha bursts into a fit of laughter, and you slump your shoulders, unimpressed with her. “You’ve been a bitch because you need to get fucked?”

“Yes! That’s normal! You just don’t get it because all of your internal organs were taken from you!” You snap, and Natasha shrugs, mumbling “Yeah, pretty much exactly it. Look, if you really need to get fucked, please go let Mr. Captain America know. He’d love to take care of that for you.” You huff unhappily, mumbling “That’s not funny, Natasha.”

“Come on, you think I’d keep saying this over and over if it wasn’t true? Every time you say it’s not funny and every time I say ‘No it’s not funny, it’s just the truth’. Are we going to go through this again?”

“Swear on your life, Natasha.” The serious tone in your voice surprises her. “Does that mean you’re gonna do it?” She counters with a smirk.

“Well probably, if I know for a fact that he’d be happy to bend me over!”

Natasha furrows her eyebrows, humming to herself. “Mhm, I don’t know, he seems like a missionary guy to me, don’t you think?” She swallows thickly at the glare that takes over your face and she nods her head vigorously “He likes you.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m not doing it.” You can hear Natasha groan as you leave the kitchen, returning to your room. It’s a shame. If he’s so chivalrous after all, he should be the one to make the first move. But making the first move if there’s a risk you don’t like him back could be a grave mistake. After all, the last thing he’d want to do is make you uncomfortable.

Your bed welcomes all your existential feelings, and you find yourself pouting in the emptiness of your own room. Not only are you really worked up, and not only would you love to be ruined by a big strong man at the moment (who could also specifically look like the man living across the hallway from you with his blond hair and huge muscles), but you also wouldn’t hate the possibility of having a boyfriend (who could also specifically act like the man living across the hallway from you with his kind heart and respectful nature). Today, you’re not in the mood to branch out and deal with new people, but the next time something even remotely similar to this happens, you’ll just make your way to one of the workspaces upstairs, where one of Tony’s kind mechanic works. He’s made a move on you before, and you don’t doubt he’d do it again if you went in there with flirty eyes and a throb between your legs that needed to be fixed.

Maybe you’ll just sleep it off today and go on a quest to find someone tomorrow. That is, if you’ve stopped thinking about Steve by that time.

A knock comes to your door.

“Yeah?” You call out, sitting up in bed, holding the covers close to you. The door creaks open and you laugh quietly because of course it would be him of all people to come looking for you this instant. “Can I come in?” Steve asks from the doorway, and you nod, patting the spot beside you on your bed. He carefully closes the door behind him before approaching slowly, holding out to you an iced coffee. You smile as you take it from him, placing it on your bedside table as you thank him.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He says quietly and you nod again, seriously deliberating with yourself on whether this is your real sign that he likes you. Not Natasha’s half joking truths that always make you second guess, nor the delusions that Wanda feeds you just because she’s a supportive friend. “I’m okay.” You whisper, clearing you throat a little. Steve hesitantly puts a hand over the sheets where your knee lies, eyes flooded with concern. “Are you sure? I don’t want to push, but if something has you upset, I’m here for you.”

You shift your body underneath the sheets so you can slide your legs under you, and Steve pulls his hand back from you, worried to have made you feel uncomfortable. But you only change the way you’re sat so you can move closer to him, cupping his cheeks in your hand and pressing your lips to his. Steve falters for a millisecond before his hands are coming up to grip your hips in his firm hands, dragging you closer to him as his lips move against yours. You melt against him when the kiss begins feeling more natural, lips parting to meld against each other. One of your hand trails down from Steve’s face to settle on his chest, and you can feel the rapid beating of his heart under your hand.

Steve pulls back from the kiss, his cheeks rosy and lips plump when he asks “You really are okay, then?”

“I’m more than okay, Steve.” You tell him, though that may be a slight lie because you don’t know how okay you’ll be when he kisses you harder and your body turns to jello in his arms. You'll excuse your excitement as too much energy to burn, but Steve will feel your lies and ask if there's anything he can help with.

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