Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Avengers 1. America

**So.. I may or may not be obsessed with ozhawk's fic Soulmate Shorts. And by correlation obsessed with several pairings that don't even properly exist. So this fic started in order to make at least one of them an actual thing. **

**The title comes from the Matthew Perryman Jones song of the same name. Each chapter will have a couple lyrics from a song at the very beginning, and you're more than welcome to submit songs that I may use in coming chapters. **

**It should stick to the canon timeline, though there might be some stretching or condensing of time as it goes on.**

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><p><em>I see the faces on TV trying to relate to me. Sometimes I just have to close my eyes. I know I am not alone, trying to find my way back home. Living in America … We grow up together here, share our hopes and darkest fears. Come together right now over me. New York was a battle ground, silence was the only sound. Living in America.<em>

_~Ryan Star, "America"_

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><p>In all honesty, Steve probably should've realized that the whole 'soulmate' thing was a lot more complicated than it ever seemed, even in a normal setting. To be fair though, he never thought he'd actually have to worry about it.<p>

Before he was frozen, he'd been unmarked. There was no tattoo of first words in his soulmate's handwriting anywhere on his skin, and by the time he'd turned twenty, he'd given up hope that they ever would appear. It wasn't particularly uncommon to be unmarked, to be so put one in a very slight minority. Bucky had been unmarked as well, and seemed to find a freedom in it that Steve could never quite understand, a freedom that let him flirt with every woman he saw.

Taking comfort in the fact that his best friend was as he was, he put the disappointment behind him and focused his efforts on enlisting, on doing what he could for his country.

When he woke up from the ice, he had two marks.

The first one he noticed was across the instep of his foot. He supposed that the shock of waking up seventy years after his last memory should have rendered him numb to surprise, but when he made to take his boot off for the first time, he was pretty sure his heart stopped in his chest for the second time in as many days.

"_Who the hell's Bucky?"_ the words asked in an angry, very near illegible scrawl, and he felt his chest tighten at the memory of his friend's death, so fresh in his mind despite the apparent years. That's when the full impact of everything hit at once. All his friends, everyone he'd ever known, ever cared about… they were probably dead.

He sat there for a very long time.

After that, he locked himself in the gym the first chance he got, and spent hours upon hours pouring every bit of anger and frustration and, yeah, fear into the punching bags that kept going flying off their hooks and fell apart under his hands. By the time he was finished, his hair was plastered to his head and his clothes stuck to his body like a second skin, both soaked in sweat. There wasn't a single punching bag left undamaged. Trembling from a mix of physical exertion and mental exhaustion, he returned to the temporary quarters they'd given him, wanting only to shower. That's when he saw the second mark in the mirror.

"_I could've handled that myself." _

He read the words aloud quietly and ran a slightly shaky hand over the bottom of his ribs on his right side, ghosting his fingers atop the slanted print. His eyes dropped from the mirror to his skin as he looked between the two marks, heart hammering again for a very different reason.

The fact that he had a second soulmate wasn't too strange, at least not as strange as some of the things he'd seen and heard of the world so far. To his knowledge, it wasn't exceedingly rare, or at least it hadn't been in the 40s, but in most cases, one of the bonds was meant to be platonic, signified by lighter silver or blue lettering of their words. Neither of his appeared to be though, their dark, blue-grey color signifying them as romantic bonds that could only get darker if the speaker of the words were to die.

Too agitated and distracted to think on it any further, he pushed the matter to the back of his mind and took his shower.

It was a long time before he really had a chance to dwell on the topic again. Between the extreme culture shock, the nightmares of Bucky's death and his own near demise, and coming vaguely up to date with the times, he didn't do much thinking about anything other than catching up. He focused on what he'd missed as best he could, but it was like being caught in a whirlwind that kept knocking the wind out of him. He wasn't even sure how long it was - 2 weeks? 3? A month? - before he sat down on the sofa in the DC apartment they'd given him and could actually _breathe. _

For the first time since the night he discovered his second mark, he truly let himself look at them. The writing on his foot seemed vaguely familiar, like it was only a little bit different from something he should be able to recognize but couldn't. It looked, he finally decided, like a man's handwriting.

The second set of writing was completely alien to him. He couldn't decide gender either, it seemed a bit of a draw. The way the words were scrawled suggested they belong to a man, but at the same time, the slight curve to each letter gave it a distinctly feminine look.

He let himself wonder what they would look like, what their voices would sound like, how the three of them would fit together. For the first time, he allowed himself be a bit excited at the idea.

He didn't meet either of them for almost a year and a half.

Six months after the Battle of New York, he was sent to LA to collaborate with Stark. They were running on barely more than a whisper, rumors of Extremis being used in further studies by some sort of shadow organization supposedly working in the area. It was all guesswork and nobody was actually sure of anything, but the risk of Extremis being weaponized was enough to warrant the search.

He'd been there for almost a week when he had the nightmare. They didn't come as often as they did in the beginning, but when they did, it was enough to keep him from sleeping for at least the rest of the night. His go-to relief was always the gym, where he could tear things apart and let go like he did that one night in the beginning. There was no gym there though, so when he jolted from sleep with his heart racing and his ears ringing, he found himself walking down a nearly empty street at almost midnight.

Other than a few people hanging around outside a bar, he hadn't seen anyone really, so it did draw his attention when he saw a girl step out of a laundromat and onto the sidewalk on the other side of the street. Bag thrown over her shoulder, she walked quickly, head down, and though it was dark, he in no way missed the wary look she gave him before continuing on her way. He could understand her trepidation, and dropped his pace a bit.

It was because of the new space between them that he even saw when a man stepped out of an alley. The glint of metal drew Steve's eyes to the man's hand, and his pace faltered when he saw the knife clutched in his fist.

The guy was walking just fast enough to catch up to the girl as she rounded the corner into an alley, and Steve couldn't help but pick his pace up to a run as he heard the sound of something hitting metal. When he reached the alleyway, he skidded to a stop just long enough to take in the sight of the man attempting to break the window of a van as blood dripped from his nose. He lunged forward, yanking the guy away from the vehicle hard enough for his body to hit the opposite wall.

Regaining his footing, the man redirected his attack, brandishing the knife and throwing slashes toward Steve's face that he dodged all too easily. In retaliation, the super-soldier threw a punch that had the attacker crumpling to the floor, blood pooling behind his lips before spilling over and coating his chin.

Shaking his hand absently, he turned to look for the girl, and found that while she'd taken shelter within the van during the initial attack, she'd emerged sometime during the brief fight with a metal baseball hat in hand, looking more than willing to use it.

In glancing her over to assure she wasn't hurt, he couldn't help but notice two things. One, she was beautiful. With the exotic slant of her dark eyes giving the impression of mixed race, she was exactly the kind of dame Bucky would've been all over, and he himself probably would've even considered his chances with once upon a time. And two, her expression betrayed no fear. There _was_ wariness there, and a determination, but despite the unconscious man on the floor and the guy who'd put him there with a single blow standing before her, she didn't seem at all afraid.

"I could've handled that myself." She told him.

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><p><strong>So.. thoughts? As always, reviews are always welcome, and I really hope you enjoyed. <strong>

**Huge thank you to ozhawk for being the inspiration for this story, offering me advice on getting started, and even beta-ing this for me. You should DEFINITELY check out their work, even if you hated this.**

**~TheFallenArchangel**


	2. Start of Something Good

**Hey! So here's chapter two. So I realize that I didn't put a disclaimer on the first chapter, so here it is now: **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I'm just a poor little sophomore with way too much time on her hands and an obsession with Marvel.**

**If you haven't already, go check out ozhawk's fic, Soulmate Shorts!**

**Also, I have photoshopped pictures of the soulmate marks, and they're embedded in this story over on Ao3 if you're interested.**

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><p><em>You never know when you're gonna meet someone and your whole wide world in a moment comes undone. You're just walking around and suddenly everything that you thought that you knew about love is gone. You find out it's all been wrong … I know that it's gonna take some time. I've got to admit that the thought has crossed my mind that this might end up like it should. And I'm gonna say what I need to say and hope to god that it don't scare you away. I don't want to be misunderstood, but I'm starting to believe that this could be the start of something good.<em>

_~ Daughtry, "Start of Something Good"_

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><p>"<em>I could've handled that myself." She told him.<em>

All of a sudden, anything he could've hoped to say to simply vanished from his mind and he stood there just staring at her for the longest time, mouth slightly ajar. If she was at all off-put by his lack of response, the only indication of it was the slight furrowing of her eyebrows as she stepped forward, closer to him. He felt intensely vulnerable under her gaze, and before he could come up with an intelligent response, she spoke again.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me…" she said with a breathy little laugh that practically dripped disbelief, and he knew what was coming before she continued. "_Steve Rogers?" _ There was a touch of awe in her voice beneath the obvious shock, but it wasn't as intense as it had been in some people he'd met. He couldn't help but think of Phil Coulson, almost wincing before he regained his composure, trying again to focus on his reply before letting his habitual manners take over.

"I was just trying to help, ma'am."

He heard the hitch of her breath and saw the way her mouth fell open and her eyes widened in shock, and couldn't help but think he probably looked the same. Forcing his mouth shut, he took a step toward her.

"Are you okay?" He asked, glancing her over again, though he still didn't see any injuries.

She visibly swallowed and nodded mutely before turning around and throwing the bat into the passenger seat of the open van before slamming the door shut. She turned back to him, and the wariness was definitely still in her eyes, though it seemed dulled by shock and a bit of curiosity.

"So you're… actually... y'know... _him?_" She asked, like she needed actual verbal confirmation of his identity, and he couldn't help but chuckle a bit. At his brief laugh, she smiled the slightest bit in return, and he felt like it was a small sort of victory.

"Yes. It's good to meet you…" he trailed off, waiting for her to supply her name, holding his hand out. After a second hesitation, she slid her small hand into his larger one.

"Skye." She finally answered. Slowly, and holding her hand gently so she could pull away if she wanted to, he raised her hand and lowered his head to brush his lips over her knuckles. She seemed surprised by the motion, but didn't pull away, which he took as a sort of encouragement.

"Well Skye," he started, letting go of her hand, "There's a diner down the street. Why don't you let me buy you coffee and we can talk."

"Sure. I'd like to learn a thing or two about my soulmate." She replied after what seemed like a moment of consideration. He couldn't help but smile as it actually seemed to sink in that he had just met one of his soulmates.

The walk was short, and it was almost funny the way they both kept sneaking looks at each other, as if looking again and again would reveal something they hadn't seen before. He held the door open for her as they stepped in, and she seemed almost a bit surprised by the action, but beamed at him as she stepped past him. They settled in a booth near the back of the diner, sitting across from each other.

He was a bit surprised when the waitress addressed Skye by name and asked if she wanted 'the usual,' but at the same time, it was kind of nice. It reminded him a bit of the life he'd had before waking up in the twenty-first century, when people bothered to actually learn each other's name, something he sorely missed. He thanked the lady politely after he ordered himself coffee and Skye ordered hot chocolate instead.

"So… I have to ask…" She started almost as soon as the waitress left, sounding a bit nervous, "Do you have a second mark?" For the first time, he noticed the way she was fiddling with the sleeve of her jacket. He hadn't even considered that she might not have a second mark, and until she asked him, he realized he probably should've thought about it. Clearly she had, and was worried about it. He rushed to put her mind at ease.

"Yeah, I do actually." He thought of the words on his foot that asked who Bucky was. "I'm assuming you do as well?"

She nodded, and slid the jacket off. With the short sleeved shirt beneath it, the words written across her forearm were incredibly obvious. 'You shouldn't be here' they said in the same scrawled handwriting he'd seen on his own skin. Almost without choosing to do so, he shifted his foot a bit.

"What are his words on you?" She asked curiously. Apparently, she'd come to the same conclusion he had, that the handwriting belonged to a man. "Sorry!" She said quickly, "You don't have to answer if you don't want to." It took him a second before he realized he'd hesitated long enough for it to be perceived as unwillingness to answer.

"No, it's fine." He assured her hurriedly. "His words ask who Bucky is." He explained, not really wanting to use the expletive in public. "Just... erm... not that politely."

"Sounds like a real charmer." Skye chuckled in response, before shaking her head. "How could he _not_ know who Bucky is?" She asked, sounding incredulous, but when he looked at her with a raised eyebrow, she blushed some, suddenly fidgeting even more. It was adorable. "I just… uh… That old TV show… y'know... 'Captain America and the Howling Commandos.' All the kids in the orphanage loved it." She explained, flushing more with every word.

"So you were a Captain America fan?" He asked teasingly, going with the lighter subject. He figured that asking about her time in an orphanage would be too much for their first meeting. He didn't want to push or make her uncomfortable, and apparently he was succeeding to some degree. He grinned at the way she giggled in response. He was actually really pleased that she knew at least who Bucky was. He himself refused to let his best friend's name fade into oblivion.

"Actually? Not so much." She admitted, "I was always a Bucky fan. He was always the adorable comic relief. You were always the hardass." He chuckled softly and rolled his eyes, but his chest ached terribly at the thought of his best friend. For a moment, the image of Bucky falling off the train flickered behind his eyes. He was pulled back to the present by Skye's hand closing on top of his, squeezing gently. "Hey… I'm sorry." She said quietly. He flipped his hand under hers to press their palms together and smiled.

"It's fine, really."

She pulled her hand back when the waitress got back with their drinks, and beat him to thanking her, and he found himself missing the warmth of her hand ever so much.

How long they actually sat there, talking about anything and everything - well… _almost _everything. Every time he tried to bring up what she did for a living she'd avoid the question like a pro - he wasn't entirely sure. He didn't know where the time was going either. They'd gotten there at just after midnight, but in what seemed like a mere few minutes it was almost two in the morning according to the clock on the wall. Then it was three. After their drinks had been drained, they'd shared a piece of pie. (She'd teased him for that, ordering apple pie. "Really? I know you're Captain America and all, but _apple pie?") _

Reluctantly, and at almost four in the morning he decided it was probably about time he returned to his hotel room and got ready for the rest of the day. It was Skye's yawn that really sealed it.

"I'll walk you home." He offered as they stepped out of the diner into the warm air. She accepted, though she laughed as if there was a joke he'd managed to miss out on, which was really nothing new.

He figured out why she'd laughed when they got back to the alleyway with the van and stopped. It actually took him a few seconds for him to realize that they'd stopped because this _was _her home. The thought was confirmed when she leaned against the van, frowning at the damage done to it, before turning to smile at him.

"It's by choice, if you're wondering." She told him, "the van." She patted the hood fondly. "'S not much, but its home."

There was a part of Steve that wanted to object, to say that a van wasn't a home, and there was no way she could possibly be safe, but stopped himself. He was surprised though, to realize how protective he was already becoming over this girl. The thought of an attack like the one that'd brought him to her occurring when he wasn't there sent chills up his spine.

As it was, he knew that realistically, he had no right to suggest she change her life just because he thought she'd be safer not sleeping in a van, so instead, he smiled and took her hand, again kissing the top of her knuckles. He barely had time to let go of her wrist before she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

"See you later?" She asked, sounding hopeful, and it brought a grin to his face.

"Of course."

Before leaving, he gave her his cell phone number, instructing her to call him if she needed anything. She smiled and thanked him before vanishing into the van with another yawn, stifled by her hand over her mouth.

As he started the walk back toward the hotel, he felt more lighthearted than he had since waking up in the fake recovery room almost two years previous.

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><p><strong>So... thoughts? Love it? Hate it? Leave it in a review! As always, thanks for reading, thanks for favoritingfollowing/reviewing, and I'll see you next chapter. **

**~TheFallenArchangel**


	3. You and Me

**A/N: So! Chapter three! We're really moving along here, aren't we? This is honestly the biggest project I've ever considered taking on and the first multi-chapter fic I've ever written that I actually planned and plotted out. **

**If you haven't already, check out ozhawk's fic, Soulmate Shorts! Or, if you're fond of the Steve/Skye pairing and aren't afraid of a little smut (okay, a lot of smut), Truth in a Bottle!**

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><p>"<em>It's you and me and all of the people with nothing to do, nothing to lose. And it's you and me and all of the people and I don't know why I can't keep my eyes off of you"<em>

_~Lifehouse, "You and Me"  
><em>

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><p>The rest of the day passed, for Steve, in a sluggish way. How exactly Tony knew that he hadn't spent the night in his hotel room was beyond him - and a little bit creepy if he was being honest - but if the millionaire made one more comment about him 'spending a night on the town' his head was going to explode. It was almost one in the afternoon before he finally caved and left. He wasn't good at doing nothing, and there really wasn't anything to do. Besides, all Tony was doing was babbling about things he didn't quite understand and being a smartass.<p>

Taking his motorcycle instead of walking, he found himself at the alley in just under ten minutes. He could help but smile when he saw Skye. Dressed in jeans and a blue t-shirt, she was sitting crosslegged on the hood of her van, staring intently at the screen of the laptop that sat on her knees. She didn't seem to see him, leaning against the brick a few feet away, and he watched as she stopped her vigorous typing and gave a victorious little laugh. It was then she saw him.

"Steve!" she said happily, closing the laptop and leaving it behind her as she jumped down from the van and walked over to him. He wouldn't deny that he liked the fact that she said his name. People tended to call him 'Captain' more than his actual name (with the obvious exception of one Stark who never got over the nickname 'Capcicle'), and a part of him missed just being Steve. "I thought you were in LA on SHIELD orders." She commented, then smiled mischievously, "Don't tell me Captain America the Great is playing hooky!" He rolled his eyes at that bit.

"No, there's just not much for me to do right now, and I don't like doing nothing. I thought we could do something while I have the free time, if that's alright."

"Sure, what'd you have in mind?" She asked, and he realized he really didn't have any plan, he'd just wanted to see her.

"I don't really know," he admitted, "But maybe we could walk around for a bit?" She tilted her head a bit at him, before laughing softly and nodding.

"Yeah, that sound fun." She decided, "Let me just lock everything up." Whirling around, she went back to the vehicle, picking up the laptop and sliding open the back door. His intention wasn't to snoop, but he couldn't help but see the small bed pushed up against the far end of the interior, as well as at least two computer screens. He almost chuckled at the tacky shag carpet on the floor and the curtain as he realized that she truly had turned her vehicle into a home.

Slamming the door shut, she turned back to him, and it was without a conscious thought that he held an arm out. He knew it was sort of an outdated custom, but there were some habits he'd acquired in his past life that had stuck. Clearly this was one of them. Skye didn't seem to think twice about it either though, looping her arm through his.

He was well aware of the occasional weird looks they got, walking down the street arm in arm, but if Skye noticed, she didn't care. She told him about the places she knew in the area, explaining that she'd only been in LA for about a month and hadn't ventured too far from the alley that sheltered her van.

They didn't walk for too long before she dropped her arm out of his. Just as he made to put his hand in his pocket, he was stopped by Skye twining her fingers into his. When he looked at her, he saw that her eyes were carefully trained on his, looking for any sign that it wasn't okay. Wordlessly, he squeezed her hand. Perhaps it was nothing more than cliché, but to him it felt as if their hands were made to be joined together.

The next few minutes found them arriving at a small but beautiful park. With a gentle tug, she pulled him toward one of the benches beneath a massive shady tree. They sat close enough for their legs to touch, and placing an arm over her shoulders was, to Steve, the most natural thing in the world. They sat like that for what must've been an hour, Skye eventually moving to lean against his side, not speaking. It wasn't necessary.

It was awhile, though far too soon in both of their opinions, before Steve's phone rang. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out the device, a bit alarmed when the caller ID read 'Stark.' He pressed 'talk' and put it to his ear.

"Tony?" He asked.

"_I think I've got something on this Extremis thing. Don't ask how, just assume that yes, I am that good." _

Steve rolled his eyes.

"I'll be there in a few." He snapped the phone closed and looked apologetically to Skye, who'd angled herself to face him when he'd lost his relaxed position. Rather than looking downcast or in any way disappointed, she seemed amused. He didn't even get the apology out of his mouth before she cut him off.

"Go on, save the world. It's not far, I can walk back on my own."

"Are you sure? I can-" He tried, but she stopped him.

"I'm a big girl Steve," she assured him, before kissing his cheek, "I'll even be home before dark if that makes you feel better."

"Alright." He conceded. "Why don't we grab breakfast tomorrow morning?"

"You know where to find me."

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><p>As he went jogging back to his bike in the direction they'd come, Skye remained sitting on the bench for a few minutes more, it really was a nice day and she rarely spend too much time out of her van that wasn't necessary or because she was checking her monitoring equipment. Soon enough, she did stand and started toward home.<p>

She paused for a moment outside a display that cased the 'Heroes of New York' toys for kids. Glancing at the Captain America one, she wondered idly if she should get it and give it to him as a joke. She brushed the idea off though and moved out of the way as a man and his son came to look at the toys.

She'd barely gotten to the street corner before the top section of one of the nearby buildings exploded.

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><p><strong>*big, flashy SHIELD emblem* So yeah, we're caught up to the Agents of SHIELD pilot if you missed that. <strong>

**As always, reviews, favorites, follows, and pms are always, always welcome. Also, submit some songs if you want that you think will go good with the story. **

**See you next chapter! **

**~TheFallenArchangel**


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Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Avengers, Adventure, Romance