Work Text:
It was Natasha that noticed first—partially because she was already highly attuned to everyone’s emotions, but mostly because…
Because the emptiness in Steve’s eyes was just so unnatural.
Steve conversed and smiled and laughed during dinner, but when he thought no one was paying attention, he would let that smile slowly fall from his face, replacing it with a stoic, expressionless mask. It was odd, seeing Steve’s eyes go unfocused and stare off somewhere in front of him, and yet Natasha wondered if she’d ever missed it before or if Steve was just that good at hiding it.
Sam and Bucky would call it a thousand-yard stare, shell shock; others like Natasha simply considered it a part of dissociation. She knew it well, was unfortunately familiar with sometimes feeling numb, feeling hollow, sensing the world move around her but doing nothing. In a world like theirs, with the things they’ve seen, emotionally detaching from reality was almost expected. The longer that Steve had the blank look on his face, the more she wondered what could have triggered it.
Clint made a dumb in-joke about anime that Wanda didn’t understand, and Sam stopped Vision’s attempt of overexplaining it, just as Bucky turned his head and said to Steve, “You cross that off your list yet, pal?”
Steve blinked a couple times, absently scanning the faces at the table before he realized everyone’s attention was suddenly on him. Natasha noticed the exact moment that his eyes refocused, as if Steve had snapped the straggling pieces of himself together in a single breath.
His brows quirked up in question. “Cross what?” Steve asked, catching up to the conversation.
Bucky repeated his question, and Steve responded, but Natasha didn’t really register the exchange. She took a long sip of her drink as she observed Steve again, trying to narrow down what in mid-October could have him so weary.
And since she couldn’t exactly go straight to Steve with the inquiry, she went to the next best thing. Natasha fell into step with Bucky as they all filed out of the restaurant, casually linking her arm with his. She kept her voice low as she pressed, “I’m assuming you know why Cap was strangely quiet tonight.”
A soft huff left Bucky’s chest, the closest thing to a laugh that Natasha’s ever gotten. “Dunno what you’re on about. He’s always quiet.”
Natasha raised a perfectly sculpted brow at him.
“Stevie doesn’t like talking about her,” he replied somberly.
“Who, Carter?”
His gaze landed on Steve’s back, walking at the front of their group with Sam and Clint, and Natasha’s eyes followed the slump of his shoulders. Bucky stayed silent for a few more moments before relenting, saying cryptically, “No. His mom.”
He didn’t need to elaborate further. The details of Steve’s personal dossier flashed in her mind, Natasha’s recall being impeccable as it were: Tomorrow would be Sarah Rogers’ death anniversary.
In the morning, well—what happened in the morning wasn’t planned, not really. Steve was in the common room watching Pan’s Labyrinth (one of many movies on his List) when Sam and Bucky walked in after training, plopping themselves on the couch and recliner, respectively. Wanda wandered in eventually, settling herself on the carpeted floor with her legs crossed.
Natasha arrived with fresh popcorn, claiming the spot on the couch between Steve and Sam. She leaned back against Steve’s side, tucking her cold feet under Sam’s thighs, much to his half-hearted complaints. Clint popped in halfway through the movie to hand out bottles of beer, nonchalantly planting himself in Bucky’s lap like it was a normal occurrence.
By the time Ofelia’s mother dies in the movie, tears were already leaving wet tracks down Steve’s face. One by one, they move to comfort him: Natasha holding his hand, Wanda and Sam both squeezing a knee, Clint sitting on the armrest at his side, and Bucky leaning over the back of the couch to wrap his arms around Steve’s shoulders.
The film’s score was louder than the stifled sobs leaving Steve’s chest, but none of them wanted to let him go.
