Title: Little Big

Paring: Steve Rogers (Captain America) X Reader

Warnings: fluff, crack, avengers are a family, talk of preserum!steve, emotions, bed sharing, not naked but in underclothes, hurt!reader

Spoilers: Yes! Major spoilers for Captain America: Civil War

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The first time you notice that Steve Rogers feels like a little man is after a serious debriefing after a botched mission in an island just off India. That day, you'd been walking past the glass office in the Avengers base to see Steve being reprimanded for his actions (saving a child and grandfather from a tank truck at the risk of another Avenger). He had been shaking. Like Fury's words were going straight through him.

That moment had struck you, and maybe it was because of the aftershock of the events, but it caused you to rethink exactly what you thought of the brave Captain America. Asking around was hard; everyone in the base knew him to be the legend of the 1940's, but Thor, who really liked his admirable courage, but that was granted. Thor liked everyone who wasn't trying to kill him.

The second time you saw Steve acting small was the day the power went out. Stark had rigged the new suit to the local power grid, and half a kilometer radius around the base lost their electricity. Thus, leaving F.R.I.D.A.Y nonoperational, the team in the dark that night, and you in the thing you hated more than wet socks in winter. Yeah, so what, you were an Avenger who wasn't too fond of the dark; everyone knew this, and that was why you had a moon-shaped night light to "scare off the monsters", as Clint's youngest put it.

"Steve?" you wandered to his room, feeling his decorations on the door. "Steve, are you awake?"

There was a grunt, and then the sound of feet and the door opening. "Yeah, I'm awake. I take it's the -,"

You grunt. "Yeah. Could I - I mean, it sounds weird, and you're a war hero and I'm less trained to be an Avenger than -,"

You feel his hand find yours, and lead you inside. "Everyone's afraid of something. Come on, you can have the bed."

At this, you recoil, almost slipping your hand from his warm grip. "Oh no, I can't do that to you, not in your own room, Steve," you whisper. "Your bed should be big enough, and I'm sure you can fight the dark if it comes to eat me."

You hear his chuckle. "Sure. But don't get the wrong idea, okay?"

As the pair of you find the bed in the dark, you come to the realisation once Steve is under the covers of two things: that it is a single bed, the sort you haven't slept on since you were a child, and second - that Steve believes himself to be much smaller than he is.

"Steve," you whisper, "I'll have to either sleep on you, or we'll have to...cuddle."

You can almost hear his blush. "I'm sorry, I forgot..."

Shaking your head, you go to lay beside Steve on what bed is left beside his muscles. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone that I snuggled with Captain America."

Steve shook his head. "I forgot I was big."

You frown, drawing the covers around you. "Big? You mean, the serum?" your eyes widen, and you add, "Oh my gosh, I never thought! You were small for twenty five years, and then..."

Outside, the sound of rain paraded on the windows.

"I'll tell you in the morning if you sleep," Steve's voice rumbled in your ear.

Closing your mouth, you nudged his chest with your chin, and sighed. "Good night, Stevie."

It must have been hours later, but when your eyes opened, there were many things you were aware of. The glow of no rain and freshly watered lawn out the window. Crunchy sheets, in a room that wasn't yours. Slowly, you remembered the words you shared before falling into sleep, and turning, you heart plummeted.

He was gone.

"He's a A-list Avenger, ______," you reprimand yourself quietly, rising from Steve's small bed. "He's probably getting ready for training the newbie's...where you should be too." At this, you make your way to your closet, throw on training clothes, and run into elevator to the correct floor. "Stupid. You're just a foot soldier -,"

As the elevator doors open, you're greeted with the face of Tony Stark, chugging what smells like the strongest coffee to be brewed in this side of the galaxy. "You looking for the Cap?" he raises a brow, lowering his cup. Unknown to the mechanic, you see he has two moustaches; one of manicured dark hair, the other foam.

"I thought it was training day?" you wonder, stepping around the billionaire. "I'm late, and -,"

The Iron man shrugs a shoulder, and takes a sip of coffee. "That it is; _______, but since the trainer is away on business to England, I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to sleep in with biceps."

You feel a blush coming on. "How do you know about that?"

Tony shrugs, and presses the close button on the elevator. "I sleep in the next room over, and Dad didn't exactly soundproof these rooms..." his speech is cut off with the doors shutting him off, and you with a chill down your back. What business would have Steve run away to England? You take a step toward the opposite direction of the training room, and freeze.

Oh no.

Oh no.

Oh –

"You look a little pale, ______, are you okay?" Wanda appears around the corner, eyes wide.

For a moment, you are okay; you steady yourself on the banister on the edge of the floor. But your head is spinning; worse than anything you've ever felt, maybe ever. You teeter to and fro with every second, every thought; of course Steve go straight to England in the event of – and he'd shared the bed with you the night previous – and now he's gone off to the service –

Everything goes dark, and you're going down.

"_______!"

"Everyone step back! It's one thing to flock around an unconscious Avenger on the field, but – she's waking!" the voice of Clint Barton scorns everyone. "Hey there, sweetheart, you took quite the fall. You're lucky you only broke your entire right leg."

Thor makes a noise. "Clint," he cautions.

Nat crosses her arms. "What was it, ______? You've never done that before in your life! Why didn't you do anything to break the fall?"

You take a deep breath, and blink the stickiness in your aside. From what you can tell, what, with the entire team surrounding you that you're in the infirmary Tony keeps running for Dr Cho to operate when she's around the area, and Bruce to keep his med practice up when someone gets a boo-boo.

"I think I had an anxiety attack or something," you murmur. "I couldn't control myself, and I just – is Steve okay? Where is he? Peggy Carter -,"

Tony winced from beside Rhodey. "Sorry. I broke the news."

Vision crossed his arms. "Tony, you know as much as all of us that Miss _______ has idolised Miss Carter all of her life. If that didn't cause the attack -,"

You shook your head. "I'm okay, guys, seriously."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Someone update my definition of 'okay', because last time I checked, there was no synonym to 'fractured femur and tibia'." He laid a hand on the white sheets of the bed, and sighed. "Don't have to be brave to fool us. We've all been here."

Bruce nodded. "Sam's right," he took a deep breath, and added, "You're not okay. You're going to need crutches, and a fair amount of bed rest and no missions until a full recovery."

Clint disappeared from the bedside as Nat spoke up. "Don't freak out. It just means you can have arm day...for almost two months."

"Nobody's heard from Steve for a bit," Scott Lang spoke up, answering your query. "As far as we know, he's on a flight back soon."

"Thank you," you whisper.

Clint appeared back at the bed, holding a colourful triangle-shaped glass and an burgundy umbrella balanced on the side. "This should make you feel better, ______."

Bruce made a noise. "She can't have alcohol with the amount of pain medicine she's on!"

Clint huffed. "What do you think I am, an animal? Of course this isn't alcoholic; it's _______'s favourite cordials. Geez, I'm not irresponsible all the time, I'm a father."

Days pass without Steve. You practice learning how to walk again with crutches, but mostly eat what Scott makes (the man sure knows how to make French toast) and when the twins aren't off on missions with Thor and Nat, you hear their stories and have movie nights. But it's a rainy Tuesday evening when the Avengers base is greeted by two arrivals; a familiar face, and one new. You were in the middle of watching 'Ponyo' when the power shut off.

"Scott?" you call out tentatively. Silence. "Anyone? It's dark."

But all you could hear was the howling of wind and smattering of rain on the glass. Slowly, you gather you crutches, and the comforter you dragged from Steve's bed – nobody had dared argue with you, since he was all you asked for since the accident – and take a few steps toward where you thought your room was. Luckily you were on the lounge in your level. But before you know it, you've walked smack into a wall, and hitting your head hard on something cold, you feel you're going down. This time, though, you're conscious as you land on your butt.

"______?" the wall asks.

"Conscious?" you whisper, wondering why Steve's voice would be in your head. For a moment, there's  a flash of violent lightning, and before you, the face of Steven Grant Rogers and a man with short hair and a sad face is illuminated. "Steve!"

The voice to the other man rumbles. "This is your friend?"

You go to stand, rearranging your crutches to get up again. "Uh, yeah. We're friends. Team mates. Who -," there's another flash of lighting, and at the angle you're at now, with both feet flat on the ground, you have a better look at the man's face. "You're James Barnes!"

Steve chuckles, and explains, "She studied The Howling Commandos when she was in school, Buck."

You'd be more excited that Steve had found his estranged friend and ex-Hydra puppet...if it weren't so dark. "Before I ran into you guys I was off to bed. Super tired, doing nothing. I'll see you in the morning, so..." you made a small smile, and scrunched your face up. "See you."

"I'll escort you if you like," Steve suggested. "Bucky knows where his room is already. Is that okay?" he asks his friend. You're so glad it's a black out for a moment despite your fear, as these super powered men don't have privy to your blushing cheeks. "Buck?"

Bucky snorts. "Sure. See you in the morning, Steve."

You feel Steve's hands on yours, and still. "What happened? Did you get hurt?"

You nod, and start the crutches-hobble in the direction of Steve's footsteps, "Yeah, but not in a cool way."

Steve makes a noise. "What's a cool way to be hurt? I thought being hurt wasn't fun."

You nod. "It isn't fun...but a cool way to be hurt is like stacking a skateboard down a hill, or doing a jump on a motorbike wrong, not falling off the balcony indoors."

If it were light, you'd see Steve's perfect eyebrows skyrocket their way up into his perfect hair. "You fell off the balcony? Don't tell me Pietro dared you to walk on the banister." Another flash of lightning showed that there were only a few more steps until your door.

"That was one time, Steve, I swear." You grumble.

Pushing your door open, Steve leads the way into the room. "What was it then?"

"I heard Peggy was..." you can't bring yourself to finish the sentence. "And I thought you'd feel really guilty after bed sharing with me the night before -,"

You watch Steve set his jaw. "You fell off the balcony because you heard your idol died?"

You shake your head. "She's yours, too, Steve! She's Peggy freaking Carter! And I got a little upset! I have a right to, you know – I'm human!"

A crash of thunder rocked the room.

"I know you're human," Steve says quietly. "And I'd apologise for not saying goodbye, but I had to go."

You nod, and quietly, you sigh. "I'm sorry I got upset. I think I have feelings for you? And then Peggy made it harder, and I broke my entire right leg, and you didn't radio in to tell anyone what was happening with you, and I think I like you a lot, Steve." You blurt.

He's silent.

"And you haven't told me about how you feel being...this size?" you wonder if that's the right way to put it.

In a flash of lightning, you see Steve nod, and reach around you to close the door. "Come on, I'll tell you if you go to sleep." He cracks a rare Steve smile and adds, "Like a bedtime story of my life."

Carefully, you make your way into the right side of your queen-sized bed, and for the second time that day (the first being napping through your 'The Hobbit' marathon), you're glad you're in comfy clothes that double easily as pyjamas.

"It feels like I'm still skinny," Steve starts, peeling off his hoodie and jeans, leaving boxers and his white tee on, "Like it's a suit, something temporary that will over time just fade away and I'll be back to being 5"4 Steve Rogers from Brooklyn again. I had asthma and arrhythmia, and a bunch of other things wrong with me – even now, if a kid had those things, they wouldn't live long." He settles into the bed opposite you, carefully with his big frame, trying not to jostle your plastered leg. "Then I met a doctor, Dr Erkstine..."