I tried to write something without dialogue, just for something different.

Look at him. 

You couldn't help but admire the confidence in his walk as he exited the jet with the rest of the team, returning from their third successful mission in as many days.  The Steve Rogers that walked onto the quinjet before a mission was nothing like the Steve Rogers that would disembark; he could tell you that he hated leaving you, and that he was growing weary of the fight, but the way he carried himself now only solidified in your mind that he was exactly where he wanted to be. 

It was moments like this that pushed you into questioning your relationship with him, now more often than ever beginning to believe that you weren't worthy of someone so extraordinary. You wondered, if the choice had to be made, would Steve choose you, or would the shield always be the one at his side?

You gave Tony a quick hug to welcome him back as he passed by, nodding tentatively in agreement at his suggestion of yet another post-mission celebration in the lounge. Three nights in a row of a Tony Stark celebration was almost too much even for himself, but he had a self-inflicted reputation to uphold.  You would attend, of course, but really all you wanted was Steve, and to be reassured that this was nothing more than your mind torturing you again. 

Yeah, you were fantastic at tearing yourself down.

With a few final words to Clint, Steve was finally next to you, his arms enveloping you in a hug that forced the air from your chest in a huff, but you didn't care.  This was what you needed.  This was all it took to silence the self-doubt and the nagging questions. Steve would never lie to you, in neither words nor actions, but somehow you never quite believed him when he said that you were everything he wanted.  But this, feeling him wrap himself around you with a relief in his voice and his lips pressed against your skin, this was very convincing.

~~~

The steam from the hot shower felt refreshing on your skin, leaving a dewy mist over your face that actually made you look more awake than you felt.  You were putting the finishing touches on your makeup while Steve finished his shower, now beginning to fully regret agreeing to leave your room. Steve really didn't want to go either, but he wasn't one to let his team down, and Tony had the luck of asking him in the midst of his earlier good mood.

You and Steve had been together for almost two years now, but time hadn't diminished your reaction when you saw him pull the curtain back and exit the shower, passing behind you with a playful swat on your behind on his way to get dressed.  Your eyes followed him until he was out of sight, smiling to yourself at the idea that he was yours and you were his, despite the fact that it would sometimes require a little effort to convince even yourself.

When Tony brought you onto the team, Steve was the first person that he introduced you too; looking back it was clear that he had a plan all along.  Steve was intimidating at first, the picture of strength, honesty, heroism, and every other idealized description that had been forced on him since his first day as Captain America.  Even with his towering stature and all-American charm, he never bought into the public perception of himself.  Sure, he was a man of integrity like none other, but he was also uncertain of his decisions as a leader, a little bit temperamental when he didn't get his way, and shy when his emotions got the best of him.  Once he had trusted you with seeing this side of himself, there was no turning back.

You didn't mean to second-guess your worthiness to be with a man like Steve, but it had become so prevalent in your mind over the last few months that it was now an everyday worry. Nothing had happened to spur it on, and he hadn't said anything or acted any differently towards you, but it was there nonetheless.  Maybe it was the endless missions without a break, and having less time together now than ever only providing more stress.  Tony had told you time and again that you were being irrational, doing his best to convince you that he was right by goading Steve into complimenting you or professing his undying love with any chance he had, though it never seemed to take much effort.

With a final spray of perfume and a glance at your hair, you joined Steve at the door, the two of you sharing an apprehensive glance and a small kiss before making your way to the party. You could see that fatigue was beginning to bother him, and your own muscles began to ache empathetically; you slid your hand through the crook of his arm and leaned in, resting your head against his shoulder until the lift door opened and he led you inside.

~~~

Laughter quickly filled the tower as drinks were poured and the music grew louder.  Steve had spent much of the evening making rounds amongst the group with Thor and Clint, who had made it their goal to disprove the idea that Steve couldn't get drunk, only to find failure at every attempt.  With each failure came Steve's insistence that they stop, looking almost desperately across the room to find you so that you might rescue him.

Your own night had been commandeered by Maria and Wanda, the two friends quickly seeing that you had little interest in being there and making it their mission to change your mood no matter how much you protested.  You knew that their intentions were in your best interests, but this wasn't your comfort zone; big parties with a room crammed full of people, most of them you didn't even know, and no sign of it slowing any time soon.  Beyond even any of that, you detested getting dressed up, and you were completely convinced that you could use your shoes an effective method of torture for your next mission.

Even with the party in full swing, you wanted nothing more than to leave and retreat to the comfort of your room, and the comfort of Steve.  But when you finally saw him, his wide smile lit the room and unmistakable laughter could be heard even over the heavy beat that reverberated through the walls.  When Steve took the time to dress himself for an event like this, it was hard to not stare; he was perfect, and you weren't the only one to think so.  A glance around the room at any given moment would find women watching him hungrily, as if you didn't even exist, as if you didn't matter, and it only reaffirmed your belief that he was just too good for you.  It wasn't hard to understand why you felt that it was only a matter of time before he saw it too.

After an eternity of unwanted drinks and meeting people that you'd likely never remember, your eyes finally met across the room and an unspoken agreement was made.  He crossed through the crowd quickly, mumbling his greetings and his apologies, focusing on his goal to reach you.  Despite Maria's persistence, the two of you said your good nights and excused yourselves, finding a quiet solace in the elevator and feeling a tremendous relief that you had made it out without Tony trying to guilt you into staying.

You leaned wearily against the railing as Steve wrapped a strong arm around you for support.  He rested his head heavily atop yours with a long sigh and a kiss against your hair, closing his eyes with a soft hum of contentment at the feeling of your body next to him.  As the lift came to a stop and the doors finally opened, he didn't step forward to leave, rather turning you towards him and gently taking your face in his hands to lift it to meet his gaze.  When he looked down, his blue eyes were warm and soft and pleading, and his voice now barely a whisper as he spoke the words that you were playing in your own mind but that he had now made into his own.

"I don't deserve you."

Part 2

I don't deserve you.

"That's my line," you whispered back, shifting so that he would release you and break his stare. Your mind was your worst enemy, taking what should have been a perfect moment and pulling it apart, all because of this false belief that he was more than you deserved.

"Hey, we're not back to that, are we?" he asked as he turned you back towards him. "I thought we worked through this. When I say that I don't deserve you, I mean because you're too good to me and so much more than I ever could have imagined. When will you believe me?"

"I do believe you-"

"No, you don't," he broke in, "(Y/N), you've said that before and now we're just back here again, having the same discussion." Steve's tone was gentle and he was trying to be understanding, but you could tell that he was growing frustrated and actively trying to not start a full-blown argument. "What can I do to make you see?"

It was far too late and you were far too tired to take this on with him, so rather than answering and continuing, you simply turned into him and wrapped your arms around his waist, waiting anxiously for him to reciprocate. "I believe you, Steve. I'm just tired. We've had long week."

Steve stood silently and unmoving for a moment and your heart skipped a beat at his hesitation; maybe he had changed his mind and agreed with you, that it wasn't worth the fight. That you weren't worth the fight. In that split second between his hesitation and the feeling of his arms enveloping you, you had yourself convinced that you were right.

"Okay, doll, I'll stop," he sighed. His arms tightened around you and he rested his chin on the top of your head with a low hum in this throat, wondering if there was any way that he could make you understand how he felt, especially now when he was so scared that he was losing you.

~~~

"I don't want to talk about this. I just want to finish my workout in peace, okay?"

"Fine," Clint backed down with his hands up in defeat, just long enough for you to land a hard punch to the center of his chest. He stumbled back a few steps with a laugh and a smirk before lunging forward to thrust his shoulder into you and slam you to the floor. "Cheap shot, kid."

"Learned from the best." You hooked your leg around his and twisted your body over, taking him with you to land him on his back so you could pin him securely in a hold that you knew he could never get out from. "But now it's just kinda sad that I've taken your top spot. Literally."

"I like it when you're pissed off like this, it makes you so much more efficient."

You sneered at him and pushed yourself up with a hard shove against his chest, smirking when he grunted at the force that compressed the air from his lungs. "I'm not pissed off, Clint. Am I not allowed to have a bad day?"

"Sure, a bad day is just fine. You've had a bad few months, if you ask me."

"Well, I didn't," you huffed and turned away, sitting on a bench to grab your water and watch him wrap his hands to switch to the punching bag. The condensation building on the bottle began to drip to the floor, so you pushed it against your neck to help cool you down. "I don't know, Clint," you sighed, "sometimes I feel like Steve and I-"

"Hey guys," Steve broke in as he entered the gym, "mind if I join you? Looks like a pretty serious session going on in here."

"Actually, I just finished," you smiled, though it didn't feel genuine and it certainly wasn't received as such. You had left your shared room before he woke for his morning run, and you could see in his face that it wasn't sitting well with him. You always woke together, spending the first minutes of the day enjoying the peace and quiet and each other before heading out to days filled with missions, training, and danger at any given moment. You could see that he didn't just happen to stop by the gym to join you, he had been on a search.

"Well, I was hoping to work with you, (Y/N). On our last mission, I noticed...your form, um...you hesitated..."

"Spit it out, Steve. Insults are more effective if you don't stutter through them."

"I wasn't insulting you."

"No, you were just attempting to rip apart my performance in front of a teammate."

Clint had been looking between you both as you verbally sparred, waiting for the action to start, so when he realized that the topic and your eyes had shifted to him, he murmured something quietly and scurried out the door.

"Well, let's have it then, Captain."

"Really? We're moving to formalities now?" Steve snorted, resting his hands on his hips and dropping his gaze to his feet, because he didn't want to see the growing fire in your eyes that he was certain would be there. He didn't come here with a plan to argue.

"If we're talking about my job performance, then that would be appropriate, don't you agree? Sir."

"Oh, I agree fully. Take your position on the far end of the mat." He stood steady and watched you move; you could feel his eyes on you without even looking anywhere in his direction. You could hear him taking a long drink of water before dropping his bag on the bench with the shield leaning precariously against it. When you turned he was taking off his jacket, so you removed your outer shirt in kind, leaving you in a fitted tank top that you knew always distracted him just enough for you to have a real shot at winning. He wasn't more than two steps onto the hard blue mat before you were on his back and twisting him to the ground.

"I'm sorry, I thought you were ready, sir."

Holding his head firmly against the ground with your knee in his back, you felt the growl immediately building in his chest and prepared for his retaliation. You successfully avoided his hands when they tried to reach for you, but he bucked his hips just right to toss you back and slam you down with a hard slap.

"What did you do wrong?"

"I didn't secure your legs," you panted, springing back up for the next hit. "Won't happen again."

The sparring, both verbal and physical continued on for nearly an hour without slowing, despite the aches and fatigue that attacked your muscles with each round. There was no way that you would give him the satisfaction of calling to stop.

"You avoiding me now?"

"What?" you groaned, twisting his arm behind his back and thrusting your foot into the back of his knee to topple him. "Why do you think that?"

His head snapped back and caught your chin enough to shock you into releasing him so he could stand, but when he turned to grab you, you weren't there. "Well, right now it's because I don't see you..."

You dropped from the rafter above him and onto his shoulders, twisting your legs as Natasha had taught you to attempt to bring your soldier down again. "See me know?"

"I didn't see you this morning."

"I wanted to work out."

"You wanted to avoid the conversation," he argued. You felt his body relax under your hold as if he were about to call it, so you let up slightly, mistakenly giving him the advantage to thrust you back and across to the other side of the mat. "We've been together two years, (Y/N). But things haven't been the same for a while now."

The hit had knocked the breath from your chest and sent a crushing pain through your upper body. You stood slowly with a hand extended to keep him back so you could have time to recover, and when you did, a quick step to your side put you within reach of the shield. With a grunt and all of the force you could muster, you threw it at him with only a split second for him to react.

"You hesitated, Captain. Maybe we should work on your timing."

He threw it back just as quickly as he had caught it, and you were thankful that he modified his strength when it struck your leg and toppled you to the ground; a throw from Steve could easily break any number of bones with impact, though you were pretty secure he would never do that to you. "How was that? Surprised you, didn't it?"

The muscles in your leg continued to spasm from the hit, making it almost impossible to even think about retaliating now. You held up your hand again to hold him back, this time genuinely needing the chance to recover. "Yeah, I'm surprised how mean you really are."

His expression immediately shifted to worry and he hurried to your side, kneeling down to assess if he had injured you. "Did I hurt you? Dammit, I'm sorry, (Y/N), I only meant to knock you down."

"It's just a muscle spasm, sir. I need a minute, that's all."

"Stop it. Drop the formality, please."

"Sorry," you conceded with a small shake of your head. "I didn't mean to get so offended. It's just not my best day." You pushed his hands from your leg and stretched it out in front of you, gently massaging the area that had been hit until you felt able to stand again.

"I don't want to keep going like this, (Y/N). I've realized that I haven't been easy to be with, and I'm sorry for that. But I haven't made you feel how important you are to me, and it's pushed you away. You think you aren't worthy of me, and I see that I haven't done my share to prove that wrong." He stood and reached a hand down to help you up, which you readily took. "But this," he paused, pointing between the two of you, "this isn't working. So I think it would be best to figure out what we're going to do next."

Despite the recovery in your leg, now it was all you could do to stay upright, your knees ready and willing to give out at any moment. He still had a hold on your hand, standing so close that your bodies nearly touched, looking down at you with soft eyes and waiting eagerly for your reply. It was all you could do to remember to breathe through the fear that was gripping you, making your heart pound in your chest and reverberate in your ears, realizing that you were about to lose him by your own doing.

Before the last hit, Clint had returned to watch the spar, bringing Natasha and Tony with him. They took places quietly along the wall and had followed your movements intently, now straining to hear what you and Steve were saying. "Nat, you ready?" Clint whispered.

"Yeah," she agreed, pulling out her phone and setting it on her lap with her nervous fingers rapidly tapping its screen. "Tony?"

"I'm always ready."

Steve reluctantly released your hand and walked towards the trio, setting the shield back in its place. He paused with his back to you and appeared to talk to them, but their faces looked almost like he was scolding them for being there. "Anything?" he whispered to Clint.

"She hasn't moved an inch."

The Captain nodded and glanced at Tony, who tapped a few commands into his phone, powering down the lights in the room to near pitch-black darkness. "That's weird," he announced out loud to the room. "What could that be from?"

"You seriously suck as an actor," Nat chided quietly.

"Stay where you are guys, I'll figure it out." Tony tapped a few more commands and the lights obeyed, coming back on with a warm glow over the room, revealing Steve now on one knee at your feet and Natasha excitedly already taking far too many pictures.

"What are you doing?" you whispered, glancing at the trio before looking back at him.

"I thought it would be obvious," he smiled, "but let me give you a bigger hint." He held out his open hand towards Clint, not even turning to look at him and waiting for the small box to land at the center of his palm a few seconds later. "I'm trying to win an argument."

"By kicking my ass first?"

"My methods may not be the most conventional." Steve gently took the ring from its box, and held it up for you to see, tossing the box aside. "I don't want you to ever feel like you aren't the most important thing in my life, (Y/N). I don't want you to ever feel like you aren't worthy of having me, because I wake up every day to see you next to me, and all I can think of is how lucky I am that you're still there. Every day, (Y/N)."

"Steve..."

"I know that's a crazy idea because it never happens, but (Y/N)," he paused with a sigh and a quiet chuckle, "will you let me win this argument? Will you prove that I've been right this whole time? Will you marry me?"

"You know how I hate to let you win."

He gave you his best puppy dog eyes and crooked smile, "maybe just this once? We can go right back to you winning them all, I promise."

"Well how can I say no to that?"

"Wait...Is that...a yes?"

You paused for just a few seconds, watching him squirm ever so slightly as he waited. His eyes were pleading and you could actually see his urge to scream building the longer you waited. "Oh, I'm sorry," you smirked, "did I hesitate again? My Captain said I've been having trouble with that."

"Oh, you didn't just say that," Steve groaned, standing and grabbing your waist, kicking your foot out from under you with his so you would drop again to the mat, this time pressing himself against you with a kiss that had the trio turning away with covered eyes.

"Red, please tell me you didn't get any pictures of that," Tony grumbled as he stood to leave.

"If I did, I'm destroying my phone."

"Hold on," Clint stopped at the door before allowing them to escape, a hand still up to protect his sight, "she actually said yes, right?"