"W-what?"

"You asked me what I was about to say, and that was it," T'Challa replied softly, again looking away as if he were a child caught doing wrong. "Is that bad?"

"It's...unexpected," you sighed, taking a step back, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room on you now, and it was remarkably uncomfortable. "I'm not sure what to say."

"You don't have to say anything, (Y/N). I understand that I've put you in an awkward position."

"This isn't an awkward position," you scoffed, backing towards the door with a small trip over your own feet, "this is unbelievable. This is too much, I'm sorry."

You fully turned now, your only target being the hallway that would get you back to the safety of your own room. The same voice that had guided you here led you back, but you could barely hear her over the sound of your own heartbeat pulsating in your ears. What you did hear was the sound of T'Challa's voice, quiet but persistent, following you as you tried to retreat.

"(Y/N), please. Please wait."

You paused and turned, fighting every urge to keep running; you already felt out of place amongst the beauty and opulence of his palace, feeling completely unworthy of his attentions and affections, and all you wanted now was the comfort of hiding in your own home.

"You're crazy, you know that?" you replied, feeling a strange surge of energy building within you from your agonizing nervousness. "I don't know what you think is going to happen between us, T'Challa, but whatever it is, it can't, okay? I know I've said this before, but you're the king. There's nothing that I could ever do to be worthy of being with you, so it's best if I just get out of here now before you get any more of these ridiculous ideas in your head."

"Again with that argument that makes no sense!" he spat in return. He reached out to grab the wall for support when a wave of pain struck, and out of reflex, you moved to his side to help. He looked at you for a moment and pushed you away, doing his best to stand tall despite the agony that he was feeling. "I grow so weary of this continued belief that you're somehow less than you are. I can't keep fighting you on this, (Y/N), and I'm beginning to understand that I can't make you listen to what you refuse to hear. I cannot educate a closed mind."

Nodding in tacit agreement and a small sense of relief that he was seeing what you already felt was true, you reached into your pocket with a shaking hand and took out your phone, rapidly dialing before you could change your mind, your eyes fixed on him. "Steve, come get me."

"You sound strange," he acknowledged quietly, "you okay?"

"Don't worry about it. Please, just come get me as soon as you can. I want to go home."

~~~

It was aggravatingly difficult to pack your few belongings when your eyes wouldn't stop leaking all over everything and your nose required constant attention to keep from making an unsightly mess. You weren't sure what you were so worked up over; you had barely any time to develop feelings for T'Challa, much more than the friendship of a teammate and perhaps a teasing of attraction now that you were so close to him here and in his environment. There was no denying that there was something intriguing about him that drew you in and that you found hard to resist, but now your mind was a jumbled and confused clutter that felt too far gone to try to tackle right now.

You meant what you said when you told him that you weren't deserving of him; you saw how his servants and staff looked at you when you passed by. It was made clear without a single word that you were encroaching on something that they thought was rightfully theirs, and possibly a future in a role that should belong to one of their own. When T'Challa had said my queen, your heart stopped not only out of pure shock, but out of fear at the angered growl you heard from someone behind you. This wasn't where you belonged, and with each minute you grew more convinced, more eager to leave than ever.

Refusing to leave your room again until Steve arrived, you sat quietly and watched anxiously through the large windows that overlooked the grounds, finally seeing the jet in the distance after a few long hours. Gripping the handle of your bag tight enough to blanch the color from your knuckles, you stood slowly with a suck of breath as the remnants of your injury caught; steeling your resolve to leave, you ignored the continued pangs of pain in your chest as you made your way to the exit.

"Hey, (Y/N)," Steve greeted with a cautious smile, reaching out for your bag, "I know you said not to ask, but I can't help it. You okay?"

"Yeah, just ready to get the hell out of here."

"Okay, point made. After you," he bowed just slightly, holding his free hand out to direct you past him. "I'll have you home in no time."

"Thanks, Steve, for getting here so fast."

"Of course-"

"(Y/N)! Wait!"

"Shit," you murmured, grabbing Steve's arm and pulling him towards the jet at the sound of the last voice you wanted to hear, "let's just go."

"No," he paused, halting you in your tracks, "I want to hear this. If he's the reason why you're acting like this, then he has some explaining to do."

"Seriously, it's nothing, Steve, come on." Your hand gripped his arm a little tighter as T'Challa got closer, and the reaction didn't escape your friend at all. "Please..."

"(Y/N), I'm sorry," T'Challa panted, hurrying to you even as his pain grew with each step, "I was harsh in my words, and I didn't mean what I said. I was frustrated, and angry, and completely unfair to you."

"What did you say to her?" Steve suddenly angered and pushed forward, stepping between the two of you. You tried to take the few steps to get around him, but he only stood firm and refused to let you pass. "Go to the jet, (Y/N)."

"Do not tell her what to do like she should be subservient to your every word, Captain. She's of her own mind, so let her speak," T'Challa challenged. "Perhaps this is the reason you think so little of yourself, (Y/N)? Living under a control that has broken your spirit?"

"That's not it at all," you argued, "Steve is my commander but he's also my best friend. If anyone has helped me to find who I am, it's him. He's just...protective."

"Damn right I am."

"Protecting and coveting can sometimes have blurred lines, (Y/N)."

"You're being ridiculous," you scoffed, again trying to pull Steve back, "and we're leaving."

"I think if you and I could have a moment alone-"

"I think you'll have to go through me to make that happen," Steve challenged. "It seems like you've said more than enough to upset her, and now you're done."

"Move, Captain," T'Challa's voice deepened, stepping forward to bring them toe-to-toe, "I won't ask a second time."

"Jet," Steve said quietly, giving you a gentle push back and away with one hand, the other swinging forward to clip T'Challa's jaw, knocking him to the ground. He didn't stay down long, however, returning the strike quickly and all too eagerly to get the upper hand.

"Stop it!" you interjected, though keeping your distance. "T'Challa, you're already hurt, and you're fighting over nothing!"

"Nothing?" he grunted, pushing Steve onto his back and pressing his knee into his chest to hold him in place. "Our feelings towards you are nothing?" His answer took his focus for just a split second, allowing Steve to flip him over, returning the favor of a knee to hold him down. T'Challa let out a sharp yell at the stabbing pain when the force was aimed at the wound that was already hurting him. The clean white bandages that had encircled his abdomen were slowly seeping through a dark red.

"Steve, back off! He's hurt!"

His eyes widened both from the sound from the man beneath him and the realization, pushing himself up to let the king go. "I...I'm sorry..." he gasped, shaking his head in remorse.

You saw the muscles of T'Challa's arms tighten, shifting his hands to push himself up, but this time you were the one to advance and keep him in place, putting a firm foot into his chest. It wasn't nearly enough force to keep him down by any means, but more a show of resolve that you were ending the fight. "Stand down, Your Highness," you stated coldly, "we're done here."

~~~

T'Challa was nothing if not persistent. Every ignored phone call and text didn't slow him at all in his quest to get your forgiveness, and to have a chance to just talk to you again. He wouldn't push for anything that you didn't want, and he would accept it readily if you didn't return his affections, but one thing he wouldn't do was stop apologizing until you at least acknowledged him either way. Week after week passed without your answer, and when a mission finally came in that required him to rejoin the team, he grew excited that he would get his chance.

But when he arrived at the compound a few days after his mission call came in, you weren't the person that he was expecting to see. You stood taller somehow; your posture was strong and your expression exuding a new confidence. As you talked with Steve, standing next to the quinjet, T'Challa couldn't help but stare with wide eyes that were hungry to take it all in. You were magnetic and powerful, drawing him in with a force that he couldn't deny nor look away from. Something had made a dramatic change, and he liked it. He craved it.

"(Y/N)," he finally greeted, taking the last few steps to your side.

"Your Highness," you replied with a courteous smile, handing him one of the small tablets in your hands, "here are the details of your orders. You'll be on Steve's team for the incursion, so be sure to study the correct action plans."

"It's good to see you."

"Yes, it's good to see you too," you nodded, "but please, excuse me. I have to finalize a few things before we can go."

"Of course," he whispered, watching you walk away with a pain building in his throat. His hand reached up to try to touch you as you turned, but his fingers didn't even graze the air around you before you were gone. He didn't give the plans in his hand so much as a second of his attention, tossing it into the jet to take his seat for take off. He hoped that you would take the seat at his side so that he could talk to you, but his heart sank when you took the copilot seat next to the Captain.

"Oh, I'm in trouble," T'Challa muttered, looking from you to Steve, who had his eyes locked on him until the last second before closing the jet door. No matter what had happened in the weeks since he had last seen you, and no matter how much you had changed, it was clear that Steve had stayed right where he was. "Yes, so very much trouble."