Archive of Our Own ^beta

He’d nearly hurled his phone into the God damn Reflecting Pool when Fury had told him.

“Now, hang on a second, what?”

“This is a great opportunity to find out who these guys are and stop them, Steve.”

He’d scoffed, a hand on his hip as he’d paced. “So we’re putting a civilian’s life in danger, my civilian friend’s life in danger, who not only has absolutely no training in any kind of operation but is also just an innocent human being?”

A sigh had come through the line. “Steve... What these groups are talking about doing is getting worse, and they’re recruiting, not just people to assassinate you but for other operations as well around the world.”

His jaw had moved as he’d stopped, staring into the water. “There has to be another way.”

“There isn’t.”

“Nick, I can’t see—”

“This isn’t a request, Steve, it’s an order.”

So here he is, a soldier with his orders, putting his friend’s life on the line for his own... And even though they’d appeared to give you one, you hadn’t really had much of a choice.

He hates it. But... as Nat had said, you couldn’t be safer. Part of him was actually relieved that you would now officially be under the watchful eye of SHIELD and the best agents he’d ever known, especially after the letter he’d received.

Sam shifts, mirroring Steve with his folded arms. “Yeah, you’re not wrong,” he murmurs. Shaking his head, he looks to him. “Only for six days, man. Just keep tellin’ yourself that, six days.”

Steve releases a breath, a muscle in his jaw moving. “Yeah, ‘cause nothing goes to shit in six days, huh.”

“I’m coming over the moment work finishes, if I can get out of the damn building.”

You lick your lips, balancing your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you carry a box to your bedroom door.

“Uh, actually, Bridge’, I’m packing right now.”

“You’re packing? Oh my God, please don’t tell me you’re eloping, I want to be there!”

“No, no, we’re just moving in together.”

Just.

“Oh my God, your place or his?”

“Uh... a new place.” You lift a suitcase onto your bed, unzipping it.

“Where?”

“I’m not sure, actually, Steve’s chosen a place.” You move to your wardrobe, stare at it for a second and then grab an armful of clothes and turn, dropping them onto your bed.

“Ugh, it’s like he’s gifting you an apartment, that’s amazing. Oh, Y/N...” You pause your half-hearted folding of a sweater at Bridget’s sigh. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Licking your lips, you place the sweater in the suitcase. “Well, we’re... we’re such good friends that we wanted to keep it a secret, just in case it didn’t work out so it wouldn’t be weird with our friends or for anyone. And, you know... the whole world seems to think it can be involved, as we’d, uhm, as we’d expected.“

You hear them hiss. “I know, I can’t believe what some people are writing, it’s such trash.”

“Yeah.” You haven’t dared to check the notifications that have been making your phone buzz, even as you’ve been speaking to Bridget, and their angry tone doesn’t exactly fill you with confidence.

As you fold another sweater, you hear the clicking of a computer mouse on the other end, and then Bridget gasping. “Oh my God, is the ring really from Tiffany’s?!”

“Uh...” You glance at the ring on your fourth left finger. The ring Nat had removed from a box she’d taken out of her coat pocket and unceremoniously handed to you, telling you to put it on. You have absolutely no idea where it’s from. Does SHIELD just have a storeroom full of these? Does Nat? “... I don’t actually know, Bridge’, but, you know me, I’m not really bothered by that kind of stuff.”

“Oh, I know. Is it new? Old? What does it look like?”

You continue to stare at the alien object. “It’s... silver. And new. Got a diamond in the middle, three smaller ones either side, going down the band.”

“Ugh, simple and elegant, love it. Can you send me a picture?”

“As soon as I’m done packing.”

“Good. And let me know where you’re moving to, please! I want to drop by unexpectedly every day.”

“Oh, I will as soon as I know.” Having finished folding, you zip the suitcase up and place a hand on it, exhaling a short breath.

There’s a small pause.

“Are you okay, babe?”

“Yeah, I just...” You rub your forehead before making yourself smile even though they can’t see it. “... This is just all happening so fast and it’s a lot, truthfully.”

“Oh, I bet. You know we all love and support you here, right?”

That makes your smile soften. “Yeah, I know.”

“And you’re still okay for drinks with me and Doll’ on Wednesday, right?”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely.” 

I fucking hope it’s okay, I know I’m gonna need those drinks and giggles. 

“Good, we’ll blow off some steam then.”

Hauling the suitcase off the bed, your eyes dart to the door as someone knocks on it.

“Come in,” you say, raising your voice slightly.

It opens and Sam appears, smiling. “Hey, you ready?”

“Just about.” You pass the suitcase to him, him lifting it like it weighs nothing, and the expected sharp inhale comes from the other end of the line.

“Is Sam there?” Bridget whispers.

Your lips twitching, you nod as you say, “Yeah, Bridge’, Sam’s here.”

The man of the moment pauses, looking back at you as his lips lift higher. “You’re talkin’ to Bridge’?”

“Yep.” You have to control your smile.

“How, uh, how’re they doin’?”

“How are you doing, Bridge’?” you ask, raising your eyebrows slightly as you hear them clear their throat.

“Uh, tell him I’m fine, thank you... And that I would like to have a secret engagement with him,” they finish in the quietest of whispers that has your lips twitching again.

“They say they’re fine, thank you.”

Sam nods, pauses for another moment before he moves to turn again.

“Oh, hey,” you say, a wholesomely sneaky idea coming to you. “Sam, why don’t I give you Bridget’s number, then you two can plan the respective bachelor and bachelorette parties together?”

Bridget’s almost squeal of an inhale gives you their answer as Sam looks at you and grins. “Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”

“Oke doke, I’ll give it to you in a bit.” You smirk to yourself as Sam heads into the hallway.

There’s half a second before Bridget launches into a speech. “Oh my God, I love you so damn much, I’m gonna throw you the best damn party ever, I’ll get you whatever you want, whoever you want...”

Okay, maybe I can joke about with this situation now... Just with myself.

It takes you twenty-five minutes to pack. You haven’t packed much, only what you need for the week, and any food that will be going out of date soon, and it isn’t like you are actually moving out, so... the essentials it had been. Like you’re going on holiday. A bizarre, unwanted holiday. Nat has assured you there’s towels, cutlery, glasses, bedsheets, etc, all at the new place, you just need your clothes, toiletries, laptop, phone and anything else you might want to entertain yourself, her words. The last part had made you think of the box you keep under your bed, an array of toys you’ve accrued over the years inside.

... I mean... This is going to be a very stressful week... I’ll take just one... The silent, water-proof one.

That had disappeared into your backpack after you’d, quickly as you could, fumbled with the box and pulled it out and your toy cleaning wipes, sweating slightly as you’d heard the three of them moving around outside your door.

I will not humiliate myself further this week, no thank you.

Well, Nat would probably just nod in approval, Sam would probably actually do the same or just not even react, but Steve... There’s some things that you didn’t talk about, no matter how close you are.

Pulling your coat back on and the bag, hoping Nat doesn’t want to rifle through it this time, you step out of your bedroom, closing the door.

“So, what now?” you ask as they turn to you, Steve carrying your suitcase, Sam holding two boxes in his arms, Nat typing on her phone.

She slips it into her pocket and clasps her hands together as she speaks, “We leave, quickly and safely as possible. Sam and Steve are gonna take your things and Steve’s and head down to the parking garage, Sam’s got his car there, and they’ll come a little behind us. You and I are gonna head out the front, draw some of the crowd away and head to the new place.”

“Right.” You can’t work out if this is nice or not, having someone else take over and make all the decisions. At any other time, you’d be railing and demanding an input, but with this situation...

Carry on, Nat.

“All right, let’s go,” she says, as if having heard your thoughts, and moves to the door, peering through the peep-hole, checking the hallway, before she opens it.

“See you later, Y/N,” Sam says with that lovely warm smile of his as he heads out and, actually, between remembering the people who are now going to be looking after you and having decisions taken away from you, you’re starting to relax a little.

You meet Steve’s gaze and smile as he raises his eyebrows a little. “Well, I guess I’ll see you at home, then,” he says, a smile pulling at his own lips.

“Yeah, I’ll put the kettle on,” you reply, making his smile widen a little more.

“I look forward to it.”

You watch him as he heads out and into his own apartment, Sam having already opened the door. As he closes it, Nat steps out into the hallway, gesturing for you to follow, and you obey. Pulling your door shut, you lock it and turn to her, your keys disappearing into your coat pocket and you zip it closed.

As you both head down the hall, she pulls her phone out and starts typing again, her thumbs moving rapidly. You press the button to herald the elevator, and grip the straps of your bag, staring at the closed outer doors.

You try not to think about anything in particular, but you’re definitely feeling a lot more mellow. 

Just six days, I can do that. Six days is fine, it’ll fly by. I just won’t watch the news, stay off of social media as much as possible and keep my head down with whatever Nat plans for us to do. Steve’ll want that, too, it’ll be fine.

Cheered by your new resolve, you breathe a little easier as the elevator arrives and you step in after the doors open. Nat presses the button for the ground floor as she steps in and glances at the ceiling corners, probably looking for bugging devices.

Pushing her phone into her pocket as the elevator begins to descend, she leans against the back wall, folding her arms and looking at you.

“We’ve got a couple of agents in the crowd and in the building along the street, so don’t worry, we’ve got eyes from every angle.”

“Okay,” you answer, having to stop yourself from saying ‘thank you’ because you know she’ll just smirk and arch an eyebrow.

She pulls the sunglasses down from her head to settle over her eyes once more and you raise your eyebrows.

“... Can I ask, what’s with the glasses?”

“They scan people’s faces, log and check them on a database we have.”

“Oh.”

Oh. Facial recognition.

That unsettles you a bit.

Licking your lips, you look back at the doors. “Where is the new place?” you ask after a moment.

“Other side of town.”

She doesn’t elaborate. You don’t know why you even bothered asking.

The elevator slows and she straightens, glancing at you. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, clinging onto the calmness you’d felt only minutes before.

The doors open and you both step out. Aaron is stood close to the door, his hands on his belt, frowning, and there’s another guard with him, one you recognise as usually taking the night shift. Aaron must have called him... and as your eyes dart to the windows, you can see why. The faint, jolly music is still playing and it’s a bizarre juxtaposition to the muffled shouting and screaming from outside because the crowed have spotted you now. People are trying to peer through the floor-to-ceiling windows, craning their necks and shoving each other out of the way to get a better look at you, filming on their phones and trying to take pictures.

Aaron turns to you and gives you a small smile as you approach, Nat a step ahead.

“How’re we looking?” she asks him and from his blinking and surprised expression, you guess he isn’t one of the eyes she was talking about.

“Uh, well, no-one’s tried to get in, yet. Someone seemed as if they were about to follow someone who lives here in, but other’s started yelling at them that we could then call the police, so, seems like they’re seasoned.” He glances at you, giving you another smile.

You return it because, God, he’s probably not trained for this, and he’s such a nice guy.

“All right, well, they should go soon once they realise Steve and Y/N are moving.”

“You’re leaving?” He looks rather crestfallen as he meets your gaze again, and you don’t quite know what to do, but it’s left to you to say something because Nat’s moved off to the other guard.

Lying to him almost feels as bad as having to lie to your friends. He’s been working here for quite a few months now and he’s always ready to have a goofy laugh with you, especially when you come back from after-work drinks. It was always nice, too, to come back from a shitty day and see him, smiling and asking you how your day was.

“Well, tomorrow’s a new day,” he’d always say back, to the point where you both just ended up saying it together.

Do you just say bye? Do you give him your number, or promise to add him on Instagram or Facebook?

Yes, please.

Yeah, all right, you have a tiny bit of a crush on him, but it’s fine and you won’t ever act on it, so it’s fine.

“Yeah, sorry,” you say to him, offering a slightly sheepish smile.

Why am I apologising.

He smiles quickly, a beam that you’d come to enjoy seeing. “Well, I wish you luck with your new life, you two always seemed happy together, I don’t know why I didn’t figure it out.” He laughs and you make yourself join in.

Oh, it’s because it’s not truuueee...

“Thank you, Aaron, I appreciate that.” You pause for a second before continuing as you don’t know what else to say, “I’ll see you around.”

He nods. “Yeah, we follow each other on Instagram, so...”

“Do we?” Oh God, that’s embarrassing, as is the tone of surprise you hadn’t quite managed to stop. It’s like you’ve forgotten about him or don’t care, oh my God...

“Yeah, we...” He pauses to let out a chuckle. “You just took my phone that one time, when you came back from a friend’s birthday party, and followed yourself on my account, then promised you’d follow me which you did, so...”

Dolly’s birthday party. Tequila shots.

“Oh, right, yes, sorry, I remember.” Your face feels too warm. “Well, I’ll make sure to say hello.”

“I’d like that.” He smiles and takes a breath before clearing his throat “Goodbye, then, good luck with everything.”

“Thank you,” you answer, but he’s already turning and moving back towards the other guard, Nat giving him a brief smile as they pass each other and she returns to you.

Arching an eyebrow at you, a smirk hints at the corners of her mouth.

“Already initiating an affair?” she murmurs as she places a hand above your backpack, gently guiding you towards the door.

“Shut up,” you mutter, very much aware of how warm your face still is.

Her mood shifts the moment you’re in front of the door, the other guard gripping the handle, ready to open it.

“Okay, just keep moving towards the car, all right, don’t worry if you feel me pushing you, just keep your feet moving, and look straight ahead.”

“Okay,” you whisper, and from the corner of your eye you see her nod.

The guard opens the door and steps out, pushing people back, and then you’re out and through the door.

The moment you feel the cold air touch your skin, it’s pandemonium. People scream, cameras flash, and questions are yelled at you, so many you can’t even make them out properly. You keep your feet moving but your eyes are darting all over, trying to take it all in, there’s so many people. Your anxiety comes flooding back as the guard and Aaron try their best to keep people back and Nat keeps pushing you forward, silent. You just can’t believe they’re all here, in the freezing cold, just to see you.

Well, not just you.

“He’s not here! He’s not with her!” you hear a man shout next to you, making you flinch.

Suddenly, your hands are on Nat’s Corvette and you’re fumbling for the handle. Finding it and tugging it open, Aaron has to really push against a group beside you to allow you space to open it and so you can get in. With your bag still on your back, you slide into the seat and call a “Thank you!” to Aaron. He doesn’t get a chance to turn and acknowledge it as Nat closes the door and the group surges slightly, trying to press against the car. Keeping your eyes down, you lean forward to slide your backpack off and drop it between your feet.

Your hands shake slightly as you buckle your seatbelt, so you clasp them together in your lap once you’re done. It takes Nat a few more moments than last time to get round to her side, but then she’s there, swiftly getting in. Slamming the door shut, she secures her seatbelt and turns the engine on, the sound of it, luckily, making people step back.

Within moments, she’s pulling you both away and down the street. Staring through the wing mirror on your side, you’re grateful for the first time for her speed, knowing by the time the group scatters and gets into their cars or news vans that you’ll be blocks away.

Closing your eyes, you try and cheer yourself.

The hard part’s over. That’s it. You did it.

The hard part is definitely over.

This is the fanciest fucking place I’ve ever seen in my life .

You don’t think your mouth’s closed once from the moment you stepped into the building let alone your new penthouse.

It’s huge. All open-plan and white or stripped wood furniture, lush, thick, beige carpeting throughout, except in the kitchen where it’s polished stone, and the bathrooms where it’s white tile with thin flashes of gold. The dining room is decorated to a show-room standard, with a long, glass table and white cushioned chairs, cutlery set out waiting to be used. The living room, with its two ridiculously comfy beige couches, darker than the carpet, with terracotta blankets draped over them, a huge TV, brick fireplace, and intricately carved coffee table, meets the floor-to-ceiling windows and a glass door that opens out onto a balcony and a view of the city. A swinging chair and four, regular, but as equally comfy-looking, chairs are on it with a stone table, and to the right there’s a pool and more couches and a firepit. To the right of the living room area, behind a door, is a gym room, complete with, what you assume is state-of-the-art, equipment. The kitchen is to die for with its black marble counters and island, accompanied by stools to sit at, and the huge silver fridge and the white beech-wood cabinets and the bedrooms...

There’s two, one’s going to be yours, the other’s Steve’s. You very much agreed with Nat when she said, as you were the first here, that you get first pick but, truthfully, you’d have been over the moon with either of them. The one you have chosen, though, is the first one you come to after walking up the stairs. The king-sized bed is the most comfortable thing you’ve ever lain on, and the grey and white striped duvet and sheets are so soft. The wardrobe is a walk-in, you have your own en-suite, featuring a clawfoot bath, a huge shower and an ornate sink, and the windows in the bedroom are also floor-to-ceiling, the view gorgeous.

Maybe this will feel like a holiday, maybe this won’t be so bad after all, oh my God, even the toilet paper is the softest thing I’ve ever felt, I never want to leave...

As you finally pull yourself out of the room, you lean against the landing railing, gazing down at the open-plan floor below. It looks even more gorgeous from up here, perfect, coordinated, a dream.

Nat stands by the balcony door, talking to someone on her phone, and as you practically float down the stairs, she brings it to an end and hangs up, pushing it into her jeans pocket as a smile begins to form.

“So, everything is satisfactory for you, ma’am?”

“Oh, Nat, this is beyond anything I could have ever imagined.” Crossing the room, you sit on one of the couches, leaning back and looking at her. “How did you find this place?”

She folds her arms, leaning against the window. “We keep a few places on hold, just in case.”

Your head tilts forward, your eyes widening. “This place is a safe-house?!”

Her lips twitch. “Not anymore. Clint’ll be pissed.”

Before you can respond, the front door opens and you both turn, watching Steve and Sam enter. Sam lets out a whistle as he walks down the short hallway, his eyes wide. “Oh my God, can I move in?”

Grinning because this feels good, this feels nice to find it exciting rather than terrifying, you raise your eyebrows. “Hey, I wouldn’t mind, there’s probably room for ten people here.”

“Yeah, Sam snores, so I don’t think so,” Steve quips as he passes the other man, setting the three suitcases, one of them yours, he’d been carrying down by the kitchen archway. He seems just as impressed, though, if a bit more quietly so, his eyes roaming the interior. They arrive at you.

“You happy with it?” he asks, and it makes your chest ache with how sincerely he says it.

“Are you kidding me?” You maintain your grin, wanting to keep the tone light. “I can probably sleep in the wardrobe I have up there and there’s a pool outside.”

“It’s winter, Y/N,” Sam says, but he’s craning his neck to peer outside as he puts your two boxes on the kitchen island.

“It’s heated,” Nat says casually, making you and Sam gasp quietly.

I’m never leaving.

“Right,” Nat continues, moving away from the window as Sam takes her place, her arms still folded. “There’s food in the fridge and cupboards, plenty of towels in the downstairs bathroom cupboards, there’s a washing machine and tumble dryer in there, too, and I’m gonna advise you to not order take-out this week for safety purposes.”

If that’s the sacrifice I have to make to live here then fine.

“Steve, come with me, I’ll show you how the machines work, Sam you take Y/N’s things upstairs and help her unpack.”

“I know how a washing machine works, Nat,” Steve sighs even as he follows after her.

“Oh, not this one, trust me.”

Your gaze darting to meet Sam’s, you both grin.

“Please show me this wardrobe, I’m dyin’ to see it.”

Rising off the couch, you gesture towards the stairs with a flourish of your arm. “This way, then, please, sir.”

Striding across the floor, he grabs your suitcase in one hand and manages to carry both boxes in his other arm before turning to you. “Take me there, ma’am.”

You feel like a giddy child as you both head up the stairs, nearly running.

Nat shakes her head as they listen to you both and she meets Steve’s gaze, her lips twitching. He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Even though she knows you nor Sam will be able to hear her in the bathroom she and Steve are stood in, she still softens her voice. “You okay, old man?”

A corner of his mouth lifts a little higher than the other. “Yeah. It’s just gonna take some getting used to.”

“I know,” she murmurs, leaning against the washing machine, instructions forgotten, and she knows not needed. “I know this isn’t exactly how we planned on locating these guys but we couldn’t let this opportunity go—”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, a note of exasperation to it. “Fury said the same thing.”

She looks at him, the tightness in his jaw, despite how relaxed he appears. “She’s going to be safe,” she says gently after a few moments. “I know I don’t have to remind you, but we’re doing this for her, too.”

That makes him stiffen slightly, but she knows he needs an objective for this, something to fight for, something personal, his own life not being enough. He nods after a short pause, then his eyes meet hers and he gives an easy smile.

“You gonna show me how to use this thing or what, huh?”

You wish Nat and Sam could’ve stayed longer. Could’ve helped you both settle in, maybe even shown you how to operate the TV, even though you knew... Could’ve stayed longer because they helped to keep the excitement up.

The moment the door closed after they’d said their goodbyes, barely an hour after they’d arrive, said adamantly to call if either of you needed anything, and that the building was already being watched by agents, silence descended.

You’d both been stood by the front door to bid farewell, Steve holding it open, and you’d watched them cross the small circular foyer to the elevator that only someone with a passkey could get into and come to this floor with. You, Steve, Nat and Sam were the only people to have one. As the latter two disappeared, the elevator doors closing and Steve closed your own door and the silence came, you just looked at each other. You couldn’t think what to say, not quite in the mood to crack a joke, some of your energy having left you. Steve had appeared to feel the same way, his hands sliding into his pockets as he gave a light smile.

As the silence went on a second too long, you had returned his smile, though wider, and made some excuse about having promised to video call Dolly and Bridget to show them the place. He’d just nodded and joked about keeping out of the way.

You hate this. Hate that there’s some kind of... disconnect between you two now, though, you hope, you’re the only one to feel it. You don’t want to become awkward strangers to each other, you don’t want to feel uncomfortable and embarrassed every time you want to speak to him because how the hell are you going to get through the week? Or beyond it? You know it’s all your own doing, your own insecurities and embarrassment holding you back, but you just need... a few minutes to adjust.

The video call with your friends doesn’t exactly help. They’d gasped and squealed at everything you’d showed them, so delighted and excited for their friend, and you don’t know where you’d found the energy from to be ‘on’, to be at their level, and the level of an excited, engaged woman. You had quickly excused yourself after half an hour, though, saying you and Steve still have some things to unpack. 

You hate lying to them. You hate it so much.

You'd felt tears pricking at your eyes as you’d waved goodbye, catching their blown kisses like you usually would but unable to return them with quite the same goofiness. If they’d have asked, you just would have said you were tired, which wouldn’t have been a complete lie.

When you end the call and drop your phone onto your bed, you close your eyes, wiping at them after a moment to eradicate any stray tears.

Six days. Just six days. And it’s to help save your best friend’s life.

Changing into a sweater and pyjamas trousers, you leave your room, your phone held in one hand. A quick glance around as you descend the stairs shows no sign of Steve, but as you reach the bottom you hear sounds of a machine in the gym room despite the door being closed. You leave him to it, knowing he’s probably got his own adjustments to reckon with.

Despite his status, he’s still a private guy, and he probably hates the limelight now being shone on him once more.

There comes the guilt again, gnawing at you from the inside, and swiftly comes the challenge that without your lie you wouldn’t be able to help SHIELD find whoever wants to hurt him... Then comes the sadness, anger and helplessness.

You sit on the nearest couch, grabbing the remote, and turn the TV on. The channel you’re on is showing an advert, so you skip through until you land on a talk show. You pause for a moment, before lowering the remote.

“... also have a statement from June & Mayflower Publishing,” a woman is saying, text appearing on the screen beside her.

You don’t bother to listen properly or read it. Nat had called Yvette while you’d been packing, and she and her assistant Alice had drafted a statement saying the whole company was delighted. She’d sent it to you while Nat had been driving you here to read beforehand but you’d just replied to the email saying it was fine, you trusted her.

You tune back in when a man speaks, and a weird feeling rises in your chest as a picture of you and Steve, from probably only a few months after you’d moved to D.C, walking in a park and smiling, pops up on the screen.

“Y/N has actually been sighted with Steve before, they’ve actually been neighbours for three years, isn’t that romantic?”

“Awh, so cute!” the woman says, beaming.

“I know, right? People were asking if something was going on, we were desperate to know if our boy in red, white and blue had finally found the one again, but after months of quiet speculation we all knew they were just good friends.”

You wouldn’t have exactly called it quiet. You can still remember the shock and surprise of leaving your building and someone coming up to you to ask questions about you and Steve every other day, but it had soon faded, and had been nothing compared to what you’d experienced today.

“Now what we’re all desperate to know is is it going to be a winter wedding?”

“Yeeesss,” the woman says, clapping her hands together. “Now, some of us may think that that’s unusual but they are becoming more popular, and if the wedding of the century is going to a winter one, then, well, cancel Christmas, wedding planners, you’ve got work to do!”

As they laugh, you cringe, playing with the sleeve of your sweater. Unused to wearing a ring the size of the engagement one, it keeps catching on it.

“Now, we have Chrisse Christianson on the line from Chrisse’s Boutique, the store that specialises in all things weddings right here in New York, hi, Chrisse, have you been contacted by the couple?”

“Hi, guys! No, I haven’t been contacted yet,” she laughs, the trilling sound echoing across the studio, “but as Steve is from here we’re hoping they decide to shop local, and—”

As the gym room door opens, with lightening speed you change the channel, landing on a documentary of some kind.

Clearing your throat and lifting your head, you smile at him as he steps out... and you can’t stop your gaze from travelling him. His shirt is sticking to his skin with sweat, beads of it trailing down his neck and temple. His muscles somehow look bigger, straining under the sleeves of the shirt. You swiftly lift your eyes as you catch yourself, and his warm smile is what sets off the fluttering in your chest.

“Hey,” he greets, closing the door.

“Hi,” you manage to say nonchalantly.

Glancing at the TV screen, he then looks back to you. “Dolly and Bridge’ okay?”

“Yeah.” You fold your arms as you smile a touch wryly. “Can’t tell if they’re more excited about the engagement or the apartment.”

He chuckles, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. You have to stop yourself from watching his muscles flex. “Well, they’re only human.”

Your smile softens as you exhale a laugh. As he crosses behind the couch to the stairs, your eyes return to the TV, but you hear him pause on the bottom step.

“Hey, after I shower I’ll cook us something to eat, okay?”

You look to him, your smile returning as you nod. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

He nods and ascends the stairs, and you make yourself look back at the screen.

Well, there you go, you’ve spoken and it wasn’t awkward. Hey, you’d even laughed. That was good, fine. It would just be a little weird adjusting, that was all.

You focus on the documentary, which you realise is about birds. You focus very hard on it.

Cutlery quietly clinks against plates, the only sound that fills the air of the penthouse. Usually when you both cook together one of you will put music on, more often than not the playlist you’ve curated together over the years that holds a charmingly eclectic mix of music ranging from the 20s to now. Today, though, neither of you felt much like listening to any.

You’d just stayed on the couch, anyway, when he’d reappeared, showered and dressed, and cooked, almost frozen to the spot and staring at the TV screen. It was nice to drift away for half an hour or so, be distracted by something. He’d gently called you when the pasta dish was ready, and you’d both decided to sit at the island, something too unspokenly formal about the dining table.

And so silence has fallen.

Steve watches you as you both eat quietly, your head slightly lowered. The only thing you’d said was how good it tasted after your first mouthful, and he’d thanked you. You haven’t said another word since. He himself is slightly slumped in his chair, his shoulders down, his arm resting on his thigh, back a little curved. You’d laughed the first time you’d seen him with such an unsuperhero-y posture, fully relaxed. He’d just smiled, and you’d realised over the years that that was how Steve Rogers sat and how he always had, even pre-serum, almost like his body was curving in, protecting himself.

Your fork lowering onto your plate pulls him from his thoughts, his eyes focusing back on you. Running a hand down his mouth, he clears his throat.

“How are you doing?” he asks quietly.

You just look at your plate for a moment as you push it away, your hands clasping together in its place. You’d known this was coming the whole time you’d been eating, before even. Taking a breath and exhaling it, you swallow before you finally look at him. His features don’t change, just watching you.

“Steve, I’m so sorry, about all of this,” you say, your voice just as quiet as his. “For what I said at the party, all of this, I just...”

“Why?” he asks when you don’t carry on.

You raise your eyebrows slightly, a faint expression of surprise. “I used you. I used you to get back at someone who doesn’t matter, and I hate that I did that, I hate it. It’s what everyone else does to you, they use your status and the symbol of Captain America, they take advantage of it, I’ve seen people do it, they pretend they’re your friend just to get something, and I never wanted to be the person that did that, I’m so sorry, I’m your friend because I like you, not because I want to look important or have some kind of status, but that’s what I wanted in that moment, I wanted him to look at me and think I was important and he’d missed out, and I could do better than him and now I’ve just thrown that all away, I’m a hypocrite and I’m so sorry.” You stop abruptly and inhale a slightly broken breath.

He didn’t interrupt you as you got it all out to him, finally, his expression didn’t change, he just sat quietly and listened, knowing the thoughts have probably been rolling around in your mind incessantly. His features soften now, though.

“Y/N...” he says after a moment, “... It was a bit of fun.” You just look at him, your lips slightly parted. “Sure, it’s spiralled, and here we are, having to pick out cake decorations...” He trails off with a smile as you exhale a laugh, your own smile finally breaking out across your features. When he continues, he’s still smiling but his tone is sincere. “I know the kind of person you are, Y/N. I know when I’m being used, despite how old I am I’ve still got all my marbles, but it was just some fun, and I was glad to do it for you, he seemed like an ass.”

Your smile has lingered, your shoulders relaxing in relief as you inhale a breath. “Yeah, he was.” Shaking your head, you look at him. “God, you’re just...”

He arches an eyebrow, his head tilting. “What?”

Your smile widens. “Incredible, Steve Rogers.”

He chuckles, his hand falling into his lap. “You are, too. And Y/N, you are important—”

“I know, I know,” you say quickly, feeling your face warm. You can’t bear to hear one of his pep-talks now, it’ll just make you feel like even more of a child for having done what you did.

Mercifully, he takes the hint and leans his elbow on the island, his fingers brushing over his lips. There’s a small pause before he speaks again.

“Look, I’m not the best at all this undercover stuff, I’m quite bad at it actually, I’m surprised Nat hasn’t entertained you with the tales, but I think having to do it with you will make it a little easier.”

Your gaze lifts to him, the heat lingering on your skin, and you smile softly. “Well, thank you. You, too.”

You want to cry. You have some kind of emotional release from the day, but you know that would just make him feel guilty.

You attempt to lighten the tone again, raising your eyes to take in the penthouse once more. “So why don’t you live in a place like this?”

“What do you mean?”

You shrug. “Your apartment’s the same size as mine, but you probably have ten times what I do. Don’t give me that look,” you swiftly continue, the corners of your mouth lifting, “They published it, and I couldn’t help but accidentally read it, and I’m just saying, why do we split the bill.”

He arches an eyebrow, a smile threatening. “Because you insist.”

“Well...” You scoff, raising your eyebrows. “I’m gonna stop insisting.”

He chuckles and shrugs, his hands clasping in his lap. “I like my place. And where could I find a better neighbour, huh?”

“Oh, well...” You shrug a shoulder as you smile faux-demurely, shaking your head. “You couldn’t, so, good.”

“I know, I know, God’s gift,” he concedes with raised eyebrows, his smile betraying his tone. Moving off the stool, he takes your plate and his and heads to the sink, placing them in and turning the tap on, letting the water run over them.

Placing your arms on the island, you exhale a long breath. “So... How are you gonna spend your first afternoon here in paradise?”

The corners of his mouth lift as he turns the tap off and leans against the counter beside him, his hands in his pockets. “Think I’m gonna give Buck a call, and Nat, see what’s goin’ on. You?”

You wrinkle your nose, shrugging. “I don’t think I’m technically not working just yet, so, I’ve got a few things I want to take care of and send to Yvette, then...” You shrug again. “... The shower in my room looks great, actually, so I might spend about three hours in there.”

“Yeah, mine was life-changing, so...” He smiles as you laugh, sliding off of your stool.

“Oh, good, maybe I’ll spend four hours in there, then.” Tugging your sleeves over your hands, you grab your phone and return his smile. “All right, I guess I’ll see you in a bit, then.”

“Yeah. Don’t work too hard.”

“Oh, I’ll try.”

And there it is again, that weird, unfamiliar awkwardness returns, not too overt, but definitely there. As you climb the stairs, you once again hope he doesn’t feel it, but, you are relieved that you got out what had been rattling around in your mind since the morning. Relieved that he was so understanding, too, but when is he not? That’s what you lo— admire about him so much. Empathy is seemingly a rare trait these days so it’s nice to be reminded that people do have it. And, oh, you’d had a normal conversation. You almost laugh at the boost it’s given you.

You push him, the day, everything out of your mind, though, as you enter your room and close the door. Taking your laptop from your backpack, you turn it on and sit back against the luxurious cushions on the bed, closing your eyes for a few moments to get your brain into work-mode. 

This will distract you for a good few hours, be something that you can handle and focus on.

Opening your eyes, you sign into your laptop and straighten your back.

Oke doke... Hello, my actual life.

You manage to waste more than a good few hours sending emails, receiving them, taking calls, approving events and posts, planning out the next few months of what you want to get done and make public. You ignore the emails that have ‘CONGRATULATIONS!!!’ in the subject line, hoping people will just think you’re too busy being desperately in love to reply to all the well-wishers. It’s almost bliss, to lose yourself in your work and think of nothing else, even though you do have to block a few numbers from tabloids every half an hour or so.

As darkness falls, though, and everyone else ends their working day, you force yourself to send your last email, to Yvette, explaining, as Nat had asked you to, that you would be taking the week off. Yvette already knows, of course, but Nat had requested you to do it just in case someone hacked into your emails, or the company’s. Shutting your laptop down and closing it, your gaze drifts to the window. The sky is an inky black, and the bedside lamp you’d turned on an hour or so before illuminates the room in a warm, gentle glow.

Moving off the bed with a slight, stiff, wince, you pull the curtains closed, and take a moment to let your thumbs caress the silver, velvety material.

Ugh, just perfect.

Blowing out a breath, you turn back to the room.

What now? 

...

Time for that shower, I think.

You take another moment to once more take in the beauty of your bathroom, before you open the shower door and stare at the buttons because it has buttons and not knobs and taps like you’re used to. Thankfully, they’re easy to understand and in seconds a warm stream of beautifully pressured water is pouring down onto the floor.

You dart back into the bedroom to grab your phone, wanting to play some music, and as you wander back into the bathroom, you unlock it. As you search for your desired playlist, an Instagram notification suddenly appears at the top of the screen. It’s a message—

You pause.

A message from Aaron.

You feel your face heating up, and it’s not from the steam of the shower, as you tap on it to open the app and read it quickly.

You smile, quite touched by the sweetness of it. Your thumbs start to move before you can stop them.

Feeling faintly like a giddy teenager as you quickly close the app in case he comes online and sees you’re active, (and oh my God, did I reply too quickly?), you start your playlist and place your phone by the sink. After undressing, leaving your clothes in a pile on the floor, and spending a moment considering if you should remove the ring in case you damage it but deciding to leave it on, you step into the shower and are unable to stop a soft groan as the warm water washes over you.

This is so much better than the water in our building... then again, it’s not hard to beat it.

You take your time to shower, washing every inch of your skin with the new bottle of body-wash that was already in there and smells divine. When you finally turn the water off and step out, you pull a cream, fluffy towel from the nearby rack and it rivals the bed in softness. After patting yourself dry and moisturising with the new pot of cream that was in one of the cabinets under the sink, and comes from that fancy shop you and Dolly go into every month for samples, you wrap the towel around yourself, take your phone and head into the bedroom.

Checking for notification as you sit on the bed, you find Aaron has answered.

Your teeth graze over your lower lip as you reply.

Being on the app reminds you to make your account private as, oh, boy, strangers commenting on every single photo you’ve ever posted is overwhelming. You’re about to exit out of the app when you decide to have a look at Aaron’s profile. It’s a standard grid, photos of him at bars or parties, by the looks of it, selfies, photos of him at the gym...

Wow... His uniform kinda hides those muscles.

Stop it.

Locking your phone, you lie back on the bed, not quite ready to change just yet.

God, that was a good shower.

Wonder if Steve’s shower was really good. If the water pressure was good like mine, not if he had a nice time, if he just really enjoyed it as much as he said he did.

You stare at the ceiling, swallowing lightly.

Your eyes drift to your backpack on the floor.

Where your toy calls quietly to you.

... This would help the unwinding to continue.

Moving off the bed, you reach inside your backpack and grab the toy, pulling it out of its drawstring bag.

It’s one of your favourites; smooth, rose-gold silicone, medium length, a ribbed shaft, silent, different speeds and patterns, water-proof, you can use it anywhere, anytime, and do whatever you want with it.

Lying back again, you shift into a more comfortable position and close your eyes, your thumb finding the familiar button to set the vibration at the first, low speed.

You think about what you usually do when you can’t be bothered to look a stimulus up online; a faceless mouth on your neck, on your breasts, licking and sucking at your nipples, on your thighs, hands pulling them apart, gliding down to your wet pussy lips, caressing and stroking.

A rush of breath escapes you as you glide the head of the vibrator up and down your cunt, your hips jerking slightly at the initial contact. You’re wet already, and you hum gently as you stop at your clit, leaving the vibrator there.

Your free hand tugs the towel open so you can reach your breasts, your fingers going between your nipples and, tugging and pinching them along with your fantasy. You increase the speed by one as you start to lose yourself in the pleasure thrumming throughout your body.

... And you can’t stop yourself from not thinking about it anymore.

You picture Steve in the shower. 

You’ve thought of him a couple of times before while masturbating, accidentally. Like when you've been drunk he’s just slipped into your mind... or just at the last second when you're coming his face has appeared in your mind and his name from your lips. You just can’t help it.

The faceless mouth and hands become his as you rock your hips, quiet moans sounding from your throat. He whispers your name into your ear, telling you how good you feel, how wet you are, what a good girl you are, how he can’t wait to sink his cock into yo—

Two gentle knocks sound on your bedroom door.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes snapping open, you stare at the door.

Steve.

Oh my God, it’s like I summoned him.

“... Yeah?” You try to sound as nonchalant as possible, your voice just a touch higher than normal.

“Can I come in?”

“Uh...” You’re off the bed in seconds, the towel falling to the floor as you thrust the vibrator behind one of the many pillows and clear your throat, “... Hang on, two seconds...”

You can’t answer the door to him in just a towel, you can’t, where—

You find the robe you’d spotted earlier, still hanging on the back of the bathroom door and grab it, pulling it on and tying the cord tight.

God, that’s soft...

Clearing your throat again, you take a breath and open the door, smiling widely as your eyes fall on him.

“Hey, sorry, I just had a shower.”

He takes an almost involuntary step back, his back straightening. “Oh, sorry—” 

“No, no, it’s fine.” You’re still smiling, and he’s returning it, albeit a bit softer and less forced, his eyes on yours.

“Right, I was wondering if you wanted to watch a movie? I can make some dinner for us while you change?”

He’s just so fucking nice, how can I think such filthy things...

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

“All right, I think it’s your turn to pick the movie.”

“All right, I’ll get thinking.”

I hope I don’t sound as manic as I feel.

You watch him descend the stairs for a moment before you close the door and lean against it, closing your eyes.

Oh, God...

It’s good actually, that he turned up, you shouldn’t be thinking about him, it’s wrong, he’s your friend— 

Stop. Just stop thinking about it.

Opening your eyes, you exhale a long breath and move towards your new wardrobe, finding your pyjamas.

Right, now to just get through the evening without any awkwardness... and the rest of the week.

Okay.

Right.

Fine.

Perfectly easy.

Pushing the covers off, you slide out of bed and slip your feet into the slippers you had found in the wardrobe, and cross the room to where you’d hung the robe on the back of your door. Pulling it on, you yawn quietly, tying the cord. Slightly dopey from your deep sleep, that is a miracle bed, you open your door and move to the stairs, descending as you wipe at your eyes and mouth.

Mmh, right, drink, food, shower and then—

“Good morning, sunshine!”

Your eyes dart up as your foot touches the ground floor, your hand tightening on the banister. You stare at Nat and Sam, sat on the stools at the island, sipping drinks and looking bright-eyed, possibly having been up for hours, and Steve, standing behind the island. They’re all looking and smiling at you in varying degrees; Sam’s grinning, Nat’s got a smile that verges on a smirk, and Steve’s smile is warm.

... and then reality.

Raising your eyebrows as you clear your throat and lick your slightly dry lips, you continue to approach, moving into the kitchen area.

“Well, good morning,” you say to Sam’s greeting, starting to make yourself a hot drink as Steve moves out of your way.

You glance up at him and return his smile, though, God damn it, you hate how you still feel awkward. Last night you’d eaten together and watched the movie you’d chosen, but you’d both just sat in silence, only speaking to make a comment about something in the movie or to ask if the other wanted a refill on their drink. Saying goodnight to each other had been... okay. Had been in the same vein as when you might wish an acquaintance that you desperately wanted to like you goodnight, filled with lots of exclamations and smiles, at least on your end; ‘goodnight! Hope you sleep okay! Don’t let the bedbugs bite!’.

God, I hope I can settle in today.

“Did you sleep okay?” Nat asks, lowering a mug of what is probably the darkest coffee in the universe onto the island.

“Yeah, actually.” You wrap your hands around your drink, letting it warm you. “Dropped off straight away and slept right through.”

That had surprised you as much as it probably secretly did them. You’d anticipated a night of tossing and turning and fixating and anxieties, but your mind was probably so ready to be unconscious it had let you easily slip into sleep and stay that way.

“That’s good,” Steve says to your right, his arms folded across his chest.

“So the bed’s good and comfortable?”

You glance at Sam as you hum an affirmative, lifting your mug to your lips.

You can’t help but feel slightly like a flighty, caged animal and the most sensitive being in the world all rolled into one with the way they’re all looking at you and asking how you are, almost like they’re tiptoeing around you. It just reminds you of the huge favour you’re doing them, how dangerous it is, and also how it came about because of you.

No, stop that.

You’d told yourself last night, as you’d got into bed, that yes, you and Steve are in this situation because of you, but now you have a chance to make amends for it and help him, so there will be no more guilt or self-pity, just helping. With that in mind, you lower your mug after taking a long sip and swallowing, and widen your smile a little, looking between them all.

“So, what joys do today bring?”

“Well...” Nat reaches down into a bag you had spotted at her feet and pulls something out, straightening and placing it, a manila folder, onto the island. “... we have your schedule for the week here.”

Right... the hard part isn’t over. It hasn’t even begun.

"Okay,” you answer, grazing your teeth over your lower lip. “So what’s on the agenda?”

“Like I said yesterday, venue, cake tasting and dress shopping. We’ve got certain places we’d like you two to go to so we can start to see who’s tracking Steve.” Nat’s only looking at you, so they’ve probably spoken about it with Steve before you got up. Part of you wishes you’d just be told these things together, then you wouldn’t have to take and process everything on your own.

“Okay.”

She pushes the folder towards you before resting her arms on the island. “We now have five days to identify and arrest them, so it’s gonna feel like a lot but, as we’ve said, very necessary and useful. Today you’re—”

“Woah, hang on.” You’d opened the folder as she’d spoken, your gaze drifting down the very packed schedule, and you’ve just reached ‘THURSDAY’. You look up at her, feeling your stomach flip. “I’m not doing an interview.”

Nat takes a small, quiet breath. “No, we thought you wouldn’t want to, but...”

Ah. This is why they were being so nice and attentive.

“But?”

She holds your gaze. “But you will both need to do one. We need all the social pages to be buzzing and the chatrooms going, and people will wait outside to get a glimpse of you both. It’s the best place for someone to try and blend in, as they’ll have prior knowledge of where you two are. By Thursday we should have a list of suspects, so that will be our final, large opportunity to scope people out and potentially seize them.”

You look at Steve, who’s looking at you, quiet, expressionless, and you know he already knows all this so he’s probably agreed to it, so how can you challenge it? He doesn’t say you don’t have to like he did yesterday, probably because you know as well as he does that you do, you both have to.

In for a penny, in for a pound...

This is to help him, this is to help him, this is to help him...

“Okay,” you reply after a moment, your gaze dropping back down to the schedule.

Nat continues, glancing at Steve while you’re not looking. “All right, it’s with America Today at 1PM, but you’ll both need to be there for 12 for hair and make-up. We can guess what they’ll ask, probably about how you two met, how you’re feeling, probably light things like that.”

“Will it be live?” Her eyes are back on yours when you look up.

“Yeah.”

Fucking hell.

“Okay.” Your heart is pounding but you know you need to start giving more than five word answers, because you do want to do this, you’re so fucking determined for this to be successful, and you can’t bear any of them feeling guilty... but from Sam’s shifting, Steve’s silence and Nat’s tightly clasped hands, you guess they already are.

Inhaling a breath, you smile. Closing the folder, you wrap your hands around your mug again and lean back against a counter. “Well, we’ll think about that when we get to it.”

If Nat’s concerned, delighted, or surprised by your shift in demeanour, she doesn’t let on, and even all the tips she’s given you about reading body language can’t help you suss out her mood now. “Good. There’s plenty of time to prepare and I can ask the producers for a general idea of what they’re gonna ask. As for today, though...” She smiles, and it’s probably just as secretly forced as yours is. “... you’re gonna go venue viewing and cake shopping.”

"Ugh, marvellous. No, I actually am excited for that,” you say as Sam raises his eyebrows at your groan.

“Good, ‘cause there’s gonna be a couple of places, but first there'll be the venue visit that we’ve managed to leak to the press.”

“Okay. Oh, uhm,” you start to add as Nat goes to slide off the stool, “I’d like to add drinks with my friends for Wednesday evening...” You glance down at the schedule, double checking that it’s clear. For some reason, all your evenings are, except Saturday.

How kind of them.

“With who?” Nat asks, removing her phone from her pocket and unlocking it.

“Dolly Murphy and Bridget Sanderson. I work with them.”

“Yeah, we know who they are,” she says as she types something down on her phone.

Of course you do.

“Oh, I like them, uh, as in both of them, I mean,” Sam quickly continues as you arch an eyebrow, a smirk starting to form on your lips.

From what Bridge’ had told you last night, they both like each other very much.

“Good, so... do I have permission?”

“Yeah, that should be fine,” Nat answers as her phone disappears back into her pocket. “We’ll work out logistics, but a night out—”

“Could help me relax before the interview?”

Her lips twitch as she folds her arms. “Could give us another chance to watch the people who track you separately, along with you going dress shopping without Steve. People who are fascinated by your relationship will want to see and follow you, people fascinated with Steve, in all kinds of ways, will want to follow him. With that being said, we need you to post on social media, too. Photos on your Instagram grid, stories, things like that so people can figure out where you are.”

“Right, okay.”

Off private we come, brilliant.

She looks at you, her features softening a touch, "Do you have any more questions or anything else you’d like to add to it?”

You shake your head before you can even being to entertain the idea of anything else. “Nope. Seems all good to me.”

You can’t be the only one who wants to laugh at that.

Nat nods before any of you can and rises off of the stool, reaching down to grab her bag and lift it onto the island. “There’s just one last thing.” Reaching into the bag, she pulls a small handgun out—

A handgun.

And holds it out to you.

You hear Steve hiss out a quiet breath as she looks at you and you stare at her.

“What? A gun? Are you kidding me?”

She places it between you on the island. “It’s just for peace of mind, okay, and for your safety. Just in case.” Her eyebrows raise slightly. “Do you remember what I taught you?”

Nat had invited you to the gun range at SHIELD once, probably about a year ago, after a spectacularly shitty day for both of you, to blow off some steam. It had worked, and she’d shown you how to properly operate some of the many handguns they had. It had been a fun day, the most time you’d ever spent with Nat actually, and due to her very thorough demonstrations, you still remember what to do.

“Yeah, I do.”

Steve looks at you, taking the small gun and holding it in your hands, stood in your pyjamas, slippers and robe. He looks away, and meets Sam’s gaze. The other man just raises his eyebrows, a silent reminder he can’t reprimand or challenge Nat on this.

Because they’d already discussed it in harsh, hushed tones barely twenty minutes ago.

“Are you out of your fuckin’ mind, Nat?”

“My tests say ‘no’,” she’d answered drily, her arm resting on the back of her stool. 

He’d braced his hands on the island, arching an eyebrow. “She won’t need a gun, she shouldn’t need a gun, not with our protection.”

“I’m not taking any chances, Steve. We don’t know what these guys could do, I have to cover every kind of situation imaginable, you know that, as awful as it might be, I have to think of these scenarios and be ten steps ahead. This is a precaution.”

He’d pressed his lips together, knowing she was right, knowing he’d most likely make the same decision at the end of the day. He just hated the idea that you might need to use it.

“Steve...” Nat had licked her lips, exhaling a breath, her shoulders dropping just slightly. “You have to be okay with all of this. Even with the interview and the gun. It’ll make it easier for both of you. I’m not making these decisions lightly. Fury put me in charge of this so I’m gonna make damn sure my friends are kept safe, okay?”

He hadn’t been able to argue with that, either. He’d have gone to the ends of the earth for you all if roles were reversed, and he trusted Nat. So, he’d kept quiet, watched you, been the calming presence he so often needed to be, but he hadn’t been able to stop his reaction at seeing the gun, as quiet as it was.

He’ll make damn sure you don’t need to use it.

You place the gun in your robe pocket as you blow out a breath. “Wow, well, guess I’m one of you guys now, huh?”

Nat snorts as you catch Sam’s eye and smile, and she heads to the stairs, gesturing for you to follow. “Yeah, I’ll email you when there’s a recruitment drive. Come on, time to get ready, Miss America.”

You’d thought Nat was joining you to choose an outfit for you for some reason, but instead she just sits on the bed, letting you choose whatever you want and taking your phone, uploading a whole new, SHIELD approved security system to it that will protect it from being hacked, and block numbers you haven’t added to your contacts. She also gives you a more in-depth run down of the day as you change in the wardrobe.

The viewing is going to be at hotel, and she had chosen the place because A) ‘it is very fucking fancy’, and B) to see if anyone would inquire about rooms for the random date you’ll tell the person showing you around, the date of which will somehow be leaked to the press.

Then, you’ll have lunch at a cafe, somewhere you can see people and they can see you, and then it’ll be on to the cake tasting at two of the best places in D.C.

“... so don’t fill up at lunch,” she finishes as you emerge from the wardrobe.

Closing the doors, she sits up, having lain back on the bed for probably the only rest she’ll get, as you head into the bathroom to brush your teeth.

“We should have you back for about 5, then, all right?”

You hum through a mouthful of toothpaste before spitting it out. “Okay.”

She falls silent as you finish up in the bathroom and head back into the bedroom a few minutes later. Adjusting the engagement ring on your finger, you push the bathroom door shut with your foot as she looks up at you from her phone with a smile.

“You look nice.”

“Thanks.” You strike a slight pose before finding your shoes. “Can I ask, why don’t Steve and I have anything scheduled for the evenings? I thought there’d at least be a fancy dinner or something where we would have to show ourselves off.”

She exhales a laugh as you sit beside her to tug your shoes on. “We toyed with the idea, but we know how much you and Steve like having your evenings to relax.”

Your eyebrows raise as you look at her. “Wow, you mean we’re actually getting something we want?”

She snorts. “You’re telling me you don’t want to spend all this time with Steve?”

Your mouth opens then closes as you pause for a second. “Well, yeah, but, you know, that’s not what I meant—”

Nat pats your hand as she rises to her feet, her lips twitching. “All right, come on, before you pop a blood vessel.”

Your face feels warm because she’s got that infuriating smirk that means she’s either sussed your feelings out, mortifying, or she’s just teasing you which is just as annoying. But... That is actually... That is actually quite a nice take on all of this. Despite the circumstances, you are getting to spend a lot of time with your best friend. 

You feel brighter as you follow her out and down the stairs, pushing your phone into your bag over your shoulder and closing it. Sam and Steve are still at the island, both sat on stools this time, and Steve’s laughing at something Sam is saying, gesturing with his hands what you work out is his latest attempt at trying out a new version of his wings.

“... Ah, man, I tell you, I am not paying Stark back for that,” Sam finishes as you and Nat reach the ground floor.

Steve’s chuckling fades but his smile remains as you and Nat approach, the men turning to you.

“You ready?” Nat asks him as she continues on, heading for the front door.

“Yep.”

Both men slide off of their stools as you come to a stop, hearing Nat answer a call on her phone.

“Nat’s gonna be tailin’ you two today, along with some other agents,” Sam says as he meets your gaze, rolling his shoulders.

“And what are you going to do?”

He snorts and points at the balcony. “I’m gonna try that pool out. Have a great day.”

“Ugh, I’m so jealous,” you call after him after he slaps Steve on the back and heads outside, waving.

“Me, too, actually,” Steve sighs, both of you looking out of the window at Sam, knowing how cold it is from seeing his breath in the air. “God, lounging in a heated pool all day would be nice.”

“Hey, we get to spend the day eating cake and having people stare at us.”

He chuckles as he meets your gaze, tilting his head. “Well, there’s no competition, then, is there.”

“Come on, you two,” Nat calls from the door and you both start to move at the same time, not wanting to annoy her by being half a second slower than necessary.

Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, you feel... optimistic about today, your smile easy. As you both head down the short hall towards the door, Nat holding it open for you, you glance at him, one hand in his pocket as he presses the button for the elevator with the other. 

As you hear Nat closing the door behind you, you murmur to him, “You know I... I’m glad to be doing this with you, too.”

His gaze shifts to you, a corner of his mouth lifting higher than the other and, oh, how you’ve missed that twinkle in his eye.

“Let’s give ‘em America’s couple, huh?”

“Fuck me, this is nice.”

“Yeah... I don’t know actually. You’d have to get so lucky with the weather.”

“Oh, that’s true.”

You’d envisaged a rather nice hotel, but this place is a fucking mansion. Four floors, you can’t remember how many rooms the guide had said but there’s far too many, the ballroom where they hosted receptions was ginormous and decorated, like the entire building, to an exquisite degree that put the penthouse to shame. The gardens at the back of the property are what is really selling the place, though, stretching on with immaculately trimmed hedges and lawns, gorgeous fountains and statues.

You and Steve are standing some way off from the man showing you around, sipping champagne and surveying the land. The champagne had been a nice surprise, the glasses having been handed to you the moment the tour started as a congratulatory gift and as a taster of what the hotel could supply.

You’d flipped the brochure open with your free hand as you’d gone from one room to the next, trying to find the price list. You’d nearly spit your mouthful out when you’d seen the cost. 

Then you’d asked for a refill, the man happily obliging, so beside himself with joy that you were both considering this as the wedding venue that he’d have given you anything.

Taking a sip, you lower the glass with a snort before continuing, “Well, if you got unlucky and it rained you could just be like, ‘hey, it’s like that song’.”

“What song?” Steve had also accepted a refill, but thanks to his serum you think the alcohol is only making you a little looser.

Thank God.

“You know the one, I think it’s on the playlist, ‘it’s like rain, on ya wedding daa-ay~’...”

“Aah, yeah,” he laughs. “If you were the right couple you could get a real kick out of that.”

“You could milk that story for years.” Draining your glass, you make a sound of delight as you point down to the bottom of the garden. “Oh, look, a little bandstand.”

Steve lets out a hum, nodding. “Oh, that’s a nice touch, people love that.”

“Great photo opportunity. Oh, that reminds me, photo time.” Handing him the brochure, you open your bag and pull your phone out, having to put three codes in now to unlock it due to the new security system, and then you open the camera app. Turning slightly, your back to him, you raise your phone and beam, tilting your head, and he lowers his head into the frame, his chin just above your shoulder, and smiles. 

You take pictures together all the time, candids of the other person or selfies of your reactions to the classic films you watch, but you don’t think you’ve ever really taken a photo like this. You never post a picture of you two on your social pages, respecting his privacy and not wanting the attention it will draw, but you have a couple of framed photos at your apartment of when you’d celebrated your birthdays together that you love.

“Perfect,” you say after you take the photo, dropping your arm and locking your phone, planning to upload it when you’re back in the car.

Sliding it back into your bag, you loop your arm through his as you huff out a breath, squaring your shoulders slightly as you head back towards the guide.

“You cold?” he asks, bending his arm so it can support your hand. 

“Just a little.” You scoff. “Who decided to have a winter wedding.”

He tilts his head, exhaling a mock-exasperated breath. “Think that was you, honey.”

“Me?” You give a faux-gasp in return. “No, darling, it was you. So desperate to marry me you don’t even mind freezing.”

He side-eyes you, arching an eyebrow.

You clock on a second later.

Your eyes widening as your mouth drops open, even as a wide grin lifts the corners, you pull your arm back, trying very hard to stop a laugh. “Oh, oh, no, right, no, I didn’t mean—”

“I think I’m gonna insist on a prenup,” he tuts, shaking his head even as you watch him trying to gain control of his smile.

Laughing, you feel the damn best you have in days. Looking up at him, your teeth graze over your lower lip.

“This is actually quite fun, isn’t it?” you whisper, conspiratorially, because should it actually be, because this is actually a serious fucking mission.

His answering smile tells you it absolutely fucking can. “I think it is. Free champagne, nice apartment, and, hey, cake tasting’s comin’ up.”

You groan with delight. “Ugh, don’t, I’m already so excited, let’s go.”

Practically dragging him along, you regroup with the guide who is still just absolutely beside himself. You have a little bit more small talk, are assured the entirety of the hotel could be booked out for you, they’d be happy to notify patrons who have booked rooms on the day to reschedule or stay elsewhere, which has you catching yourself before you cringe, and then he’s taking you back towards the building.

You thank him and say goodbye, telling him you’ll let him know your decision soon, (you and the whole world will find out together, bud), and then it’s just you and Steve, walking back towards his car in the huge, gravel parking lot. It’s quiet now, the hotel often has celebrity clients so no one really ogled you even when you were in the building, just a few glances and double-takes but very discreet ones, and it’s too cold for people to be milling about out here, even if they do want an autograph.

The front gates, someway down the main gravel road, won’t be quiet, though. Paparazzi had been waiting there when you’d both arrived and they’d had to back off as Steve’s car came through, but that hadn’t stopped the flashing lights and muffled shouts coming from the small crowd. You’d just kept your gaze ahead and ignoring them and thinking about what you might have for lunch had actually helped in stopping you from feeling overwhelmed.

It’s the same as you leave, the reporters now shouting if you’ve found your dream venue. Glancing at Steve as he eases the car on to the main road and you head back towards D.C, you lean your head back against the chair.

“Does that ever really get to you?”

“The press?” He glances at you and you nod before his eyes return to the road. “Sometimes. They’ve always been there, though, since I took the serum. It’s just something I got used to. Sure, there’s social media now but press tactics haven’t changed much, and I think once they realised I’m just a boring guy who only goes out for food and a jog they’ve eased off.”

You laugh, your arms folding. “You’re not boring, Steve.”

“By press standards I am. What sells more papers, me doing the same thing every day or Stark doing something different and exciting every day?”

“Oh, well, now, you’ve got me there.” You sit up a little suddenly, staring at him. “Wait, am I gonna meet him on Saturday? What has he said about all of this? Does he know? The truth?”

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You didn’t see the statement?”

“No, oh, God, why...” You’re fumbling with your bag, opening it, grabbing your phone and unlocking it, (God, this takes so long now), and opening up the internet browser.

Typing Tony Stark engagement statement, you tap on the first result that includes Steve’s name.

You groan as you lower your phone. “Oh, he knows, doesn’t he...”

“Yep.” You can hear the amusement in Steve’s tone even before you look at him. “Fury thinks he hacks into the SHIELD system every now and then just to have a look around. He knows about the threat, he and I have spoken about it, so we think he just connected the dots.”

“Well, he is a smart guy,” you mutter; the understatement of the century.

Steve drops a hand from the wheel, resting it on his thigh. “He’d probably’ve been told anyway, there has been a threat made against his building and party so Nat’s gonna work with him on security.”

“That’s comforting, at least.” Placing your bag in your lap, you place your phone back inside, being careful to tilt the bag away from him slightly so he can’t see that you brought the gun Nat had given you. 

Just in case.

Zipping your bag shut and placing it on the floor, you sit back and put the radio on, both of you soon humming along to it, Steve’s fingers tapping against the steering wheel.

The rest of the journey is comfortably quiet, both of you just listening to the radio and commenting every now and then on a song or singing along. A glance in the wing mirror every now and then tells you a couple of news vans and cars are following but Nat had told you to expect that and that a couple of the cars would have an agent in. They fall back somewhat as you return to the city, traffic starting to grow.

By the time you reach the cafe you can’t see any of them but you know it won’t be long before they catch up.

Well, ‘cafe’.

Nat had called it a ‘cafe’, but you would have called it a ‘fancy bistro that you, Dolly and Bridge’ would go to either on pay-day or for very special occasions’. It’s all leather booths and low, dim lighting, with black and white photographs on the walls of different places around the world along with quotes in neon lights. It even has a valet. Nat had made a reservation, though, so they’re expecting you and you’re greeted by name as you enter, the waitress beaming. She’s lovely, though, introduces herself as Charlie and is genuine in her asking of how your day is going as she leads you to the table Nat had booked for you; a booth up in the furthest corner with no other tables close to it.

After ordering your drinks and food, and snapping a quick picture because you know Bridge’ will love the interior here, you’re left alone, an indication that this place also probably serves celebrity patrons. 

With these prices I wouldn’t be surprised.

Due to the time of day, and it being a weekday, it’s quiet, the few people here either older or seemingly having business lunches. They’re all sitting quite far away from you two, but maybe Nat had requested the tables around you be kept free, probably compensating them quite handsomely for it.

It gives you a chance to talk freely, though, which is nice, but you still keep your voice low.

“This is a nice place,” you murmur as you sit back, your hands falling into your lap, “We need to start going to more upmarket places.”

He arches an eyebrow, one arm resting on the table, the elbow on the other placed on it, his hand supporting his jaw as he feigns hurt. “You don’t like our diner?”

“I love our diner, are you kidding. No, I just...” You blow a breath out, shaking your head. “I was gonna say I wish we went out more, for dinner or lunch or even breakfast, but, no, I like it when we stay in and cook.”

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Yeah, me, too.”

 You shrug. “Maybe we should get out more, though.” You then tilt your head. “Oh, but I like staying in. Am I making any sense?”

He exhales a laugh as he nods. “Uh, yeah, a little.” His features soften. “I understand. I like going out, too, sometimes, and feeling, well, I can’t say this in any way that doesn’t sound self-pitying, but feeling normal.”

That makes your chest ache.

“No, I know what you mean.” You widen your smile. “Do you remember that bar we went to, in the summer? The one Sam took us to? I liked that place.”

“Oh, yeah, I liked that place, too. Great prices on beer.”

Your lips twitch and you continue, “Maybe we could go to more places like that, find bars and restaurants that have people that will just... leave us be.”

“Yeah,” he nods after a moment.

Charlie returns with your drinks then, and you don’t catch that his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he sits back. After you thank her and she leaves, he says after a short pause as you both take a sip, making his smile widen and his eyebrows raising, “We should start to plan what we’re gonna say for the interview, we can probably predict the most basic questions they’ll ask.”

You catch yourself before you pull a face, lowering your drink and swallowing, licking your lips. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

You discuss the finer details as your food arrives and you eat, the irony not lost on you and your whispering brain that yeah, you had started to develop feelings for him as you’d grown closer over the years.

But we’re not thinking about that right now.

When you finish your food and just about finalise your story, though, you’re actually quite relieved it’s quite close to the truth, it’ll make it all easier to remember. Charlie approaches with the receipt in a gold tray and places it between you, prompting you to nudge it towards him.

“Oh, he’s paying.”

“Oh, it’s already been taken care of,” she smiles, clasping her hands together.

Both of you look at her, your eyebrows raising.

“Has it?” Steve asks, and you suspect Nat is the culprit, but why—

She turns and points to a table a little way away. “That couple over there have settled the bill.”

You and Steve crane your necks to follow the direction of her finger. An elderly man and woman sit at a table, looking over and smiling warmly. The man formally salutes Steve, who, you see in the corner of your eye, returns it.

As you glance up at her, she continues, “The gentleman said you were his hero growing up, Mr Rogers, and that his father served during the war.”

Steve looks at her after a moment. “Can we pay for their meal?”

“They've already settled their bill, too.”

You watch Steve return his gaze to the couple, nodding and returning their wide, warm smile as Charlie steps away, but you can see the slightly helpless look that washes over him, knowing he’ll want to repay the debt and display his gratitude in a meaningful way.

Leaning forward, you murmur, “Go and say hello.”

His gaze darts to you. “You don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” you smile, your features soft. “Go. They’ve been very polite but I think talking to you will make their week.”

He nods, and you know he’ll have needed that little push, that assurance that he could give something back. You watch him as he slides out of the booth and makes his way over, your smile growing as the man touches the woman’s hand and his eyes widen.

You watch them introduce themselves to Steve and shake his hand, and watch them laugh as they talk, watch Steve, relaxed and easy. A sense of pride suddenly starts to bloom within you, your stomach flipping slightly.

Your phone vibrating pulls your attention away, and you open your bag, pulling it out and unlocking it. A message from Aaron greets you. You’d swapped numbers, you finding Instagram too intimidating and daunting to go on much now, and it just makes it easier.

You smile lightly, your teeth grazing over your lower lip as you reply. Putting your phone away, when you look back up, their conversation seems to be ending as Steve shakes their hands again, and then he points to you.

You smile widely and wave as they do and mouth, “Thank you so much.”

They just wave their hands dismissively, beaming. Steve returns to you as they gather their things and move towards the exit, a smile lingering on his lips.

“They seemed really nice,” you say as you get to your feet, shouldering your bag.

“They were really nice, that was a good conversation.” He continues as you both head for the exit, too, “Told me all about his dad, how he was nearly stationed near me but then he got injured.” Both of you pause as Charlie brings you your coats and you thank her for the service, both of you handing her a few notes for a tip which makes her beam.

“He was a lovely guy, he and his wife,” he says as you step out into the small porch area, adjusting your coats, Steve handing his ticket to the valet, who races off to retrieve his car. Paparazzi have spotted you, but the bistro has a small gate and hedges up, blocking them from your view. 

Looking up at him, you smile again as he does, sliding his hands into his pockets, “He congratulated me on our engagement, too, said I’m a lucky man.”

You give a faux-smug smirk even as you feel heat rise on your cheeks. “Well, duh.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have told you, knew it would go to your head.”

You laugh as he shakes his head, the smile rising on his lips.

“Well, you did, and I’m gonna hang on to it forever.”

You hang on to it as the valet returns and you and Steve head outside, ignoring the shouts of the paparazzi and their snapping cameras once more, (hey, this is surprisingly easy), and for the ride over to the first cake shop.

It’s just as fancy as the hotel and bistro had been, but you get the sense Nat has chosen them not for their aesthetic qualities but more for the structure and layout of their buildings. The hotel had tall gates, the front one far from the building, the bistro had gates and hedges to obscure the door, and barely any windows, and the cake shop is nearly identical to the bistro, immaculate, neat hedges at the front, a small entrance-way between them, and floor to ceiling windows only on the front wall of the store. It’s connected to another shop on one side, the other a sidewalk, so Steve is able to park right outside, giving you the opportunity to dart across the pavement, through the entrance-way and straight into the store.

No reporters or citizens were waiting for you outside, which is excellent so you automatically like the shop very much, (no snitches here, wonderful), though you know that’ll soon change, as it has to.

Think about cakes , please.

As you enter the store, an older woman approaches with a wide, warm smile and greets you by name, (I could get used to this), and directs you towards a small, grey table, giving you a moment to take a seat. You glance up and meet the gaze of the other two couples here, one looking away quickly and whispering to each other, the other smiling at you a little shyly. You return it with a wide smile, and a slight raising of your eyebrows, a look of almost, ‘Look at us, huh, choosing our wedding cakes, how exciting’.

And, God, this is; you can see samples of the cakes behind a glass display window, freshly made and brightly lit, and photographs on the walls of some of their favourite creations. The interior is also gorgeous, industrial with a classy edge.

The woman, Damilola, she introduced herself as, places a book before you that lists their flavours, some you’ve never even heard of, styles, decorations, previous creations, prices and a page with a classy version of ‘create your own’. She takes a seat with you and is delightful and warm, and you feel bad for thinking for a moment or two if it’s an act to keep clients happy.

Then again, if I worked in a cake shop I’d be happy all the time.

This is by far the easiest thing you’ve done all day, maybe in your life, you and Steve both genuinely interested in the process and asking her how long she’s worked here, (30 years and she’s the manager), and she isn’t surprised when you ask for a sample of nearly every flavour, in fact she seems quite relieved.

“People tend to go for what they know and never really experiment or try anything new.”

Lady, you’re in luck; I’m still hungry and I’m gonna get what I can out of this.

You’re given a little card book to make a note of what you liked and didn’t like but it’s barely given a glance as you and Steve tuck in to the long plates that Damilola has placed down. She’s leaves you be, so you’re free to groan, albeit quietly, with delight at nearly every mouthful. Not every one’s a winner but, hey, it’s free cake.

“Mmh, oh, Steve...” you groan after a particularly divine slice and lick the crumbs from your lips.

He just nods and hums in return, scooping up every little crumb he can with his tiny fork.

Leaning a little closer, you whisper, “I’m so in love with this place, I’m gonna buy an end of engagement cake after this, and you can expect all your birthday cakes to be from here.”

Wiping his mouth, he sits back and nods, blowing out a breath of satisfaction. “I’m not gonna complain about that. Can my birthday be every week?”

You nod enthusiastically as you lick your lips again. “Gotta start making up for some, right?”

He laughs as you smile, putting your fork down and pushing your plate away.

“Perfect, we’ve got an air-tight reason. Should we take some samples back to the apartment? Or take some from the next place?”

“Oh my God, I forgot there’s gonna be another.” You pat your stomach as you sit back, knowing you’re full... but... “... We can take some samples from here. For the sake of comparison.”

“Absolutely, the sake of comparison...” He’s already lifting his hand to get Damilola’s attention, and when she approaches with a warm smile, he orders a slice of everything you liked to go. 

Again, she’s not surprised, but smiles rather knowingly. “They’re good, aren’t they?”

“So good—”

“Honestly so delicious—”

“... Heaven...”

“... Don’t think I’ve had a better selection of cakes in my life...”

She laughs at you and Steve talking over each and heads off to box them up for you.

Resting your chin in your palm with a contented sigh, you look over at him with a smile, lowering your voice. “I have really enjoyed today.”

He looks at you and holds your gaze, one side of his mouth higher than the other. “Me, too. It hasn’t been so bad, has it?”

You follow his eye-line that briefly lifts to look out of the front windows, the tops of peoples heads and cameras just able to be seen over the hedges.

“No,” you answer, dropping your hand onto the table. “What was your favourite cake?”

He blinks slightly as your swift conversation change but doesn’t say anything, raising his eyebrows as he links his fingers together over his stomach. “Oh, now that is a tough question that’s gonna take some more sampling to determine.”

“You’re damn right there, Rogers.” Your smile widening, you look up to Damilola as she returns with two medium-sized boxes. 

You both thank her warmly and greatly as you pull your coats on and take the boxes, moving towards the exit, and ask her to give your compliments to the bakers, who have been peering out of the kitchen every few moments to get a look at Steve and see your reactions.

She promises to and that you’re welcome back any time and she looks forward to hearing your decision. You say your goodbyes as she holds the door open for you, each of you holding a box, and you step out and—

The crowd has grown. A lot. 

Swallowing lightly, you follow after Steve as you head towards it, barely able to see his car, and you lower your head slightly as you start to push through because they don’t part. Your photo from the hotel and one you took of the interior of the bistro, both of which you’d uploaded during the car rides, has obviously indicated you and Steve are out and about and are now in the city, and even if you hadn’t been uploading them, you know you’re being tailed by various media outlets and citizens. Your movements are probably being reported minute by minute.

... I wonder what people are saying.

No, stop it.

It’s too late, though. That thought, that one little thought, has embedded in your mind and just like that, the mental wall you had put up comes crumbling down.

“... comment on how you’re feeling...”

“... when’s the date set for...”

“... is it true it’s going to be...”

“... do you have anything to say about the article in the...”

“... using Steve to further your career...”

You’re listening to them now, seeing them, really seeing them. The whole day you’ve forced your mind to be blank, to think of something else, to just stare and move on, on, on, almost akin to dissociating, but you’ve lost it now and it’s overwhelming.

You’re staring into the faces of wide-eyed, shouting people, microphones and cameras, flashing lights making you blink and narrow your eyes. You realise suddenly that Steve’s taken your free hand with his and is trying to keep you close behind him, pulling you through the crowd. Some people are shouting at others, telling them to give you space, actually pushing them back, but this is so much worse than when you’d left your apartment, your actual apartment, your home, oh my God, I want to go home...

Damilola has come out of the shop to ask the crowd to move back, saying they’re blocking the way for their customers, but she can only do so much, and her voice is just barely able to be heard above the sound.

“Come on, guys, can you let us through?” you hear Steve saying, frustration seeping into his tone.

Someone in this crowd wants him dead. 

The thought comes out of nowhere, so suddenly and so sharply that a rush of breath escapes you. You don’t realise your hand is squeezing his, your nails digging into his skin.

Suddenly, he’s pulling you in front of him, his arm around your back and you realise you’re at the car, and somewhere far in your mind you’re so fucking grateful he thought ahead and parked with the passenger side against the curb. You’re pressed tight between him and the car, your back against his chest, and his arms are either side of you, shielding you in as he opens the door, moving back with you to give you space to get in. You do and as he slams the door shut you close your eyes, feeling for the seatbelt and securing it. You keep them closed even as people tap against the window, even as you hear Steve telling them to back off as he makes his way around the car, even as they keep on shouting and shouting and shouting.

Steve opens the door and gets in, slamming it shut and reaching back with his other hand to place his box on the back seat, and starts the engine as you open your eyes. When people don’t move away, he blares the horn and people start pulling others out of the way, yelling at them to move. Then there’s a gap and he’s pulling away, hissing out a string of curses, his grip tight on the steering wheel.

“Hm?” you say, your gaze darting to him as you register that he’s spoken to you.

He looks between you and the road, concern and fury trying to fight for their share across his features. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah, I just...”

When you don’t continue, looking at him, he nods, having seen the faint glint of desperation in your eyes.

“How about we take these cakes home and do some more testing, huh?”

You look down at your lap, forgetting you had even been holding the box and nod as you swallow, managing a smile. “That sounds like the best thing.”

“All right.” As you keep a tight grip on your bag, he presses a button on his steering wheel and says, “Call Nat.”

She answers on the first ring. “What happened?”

He shakes his head even though she can’t see it. “There was too many people, Nat. It was a fuckin’ nightmare, it was too much.”

She sighs on the other end, and there’s a note of frustration to it. “I know, I could see from where we are, we had some agents in there keeping people back but we couldn’t do too much or they’d risk blowing their cover.”

He releases a breath as he rolls his shoulders. “I know, it’s all right. We’re gonna head back to the apartment, can you cancel our reservation for the other place?”

“Yeah, sure. Do you want me to come over?”

He glances at you and says a moment later, “No, we’ll be okay.”

“All right, I’ll message you.”

After she ends the call, he releases another, longer breath. You’ve kept your gaze on the dashboard, just focusing on your breathing.

There’s silence.

Then, you feel his hand back on yours, his fingers curling around it. You don’t move, you don’t say anything, either of you, but it’s so nice. It’s so grounding. Closing your eyes, you focus on it, letting it anchor you in the moment as you just breathe.

“Nat says they've got their eye on a couple of suspects,” Steve says as he returns from the kitchen, handing you a drink.

You move your hand out from under the blanket and accept it with a smile, balancing it on your stomach, your fingers wrapped around it. “That’s good.”

“Yeah.” He resumes his position on the other end of the couch, stretching his legs out. “She’s hopin’ tomorrow will be the indicator, see who follows you and who follows me.”

“Where are you going?”

“To see Peg.”

A smile lifts your lips as you look at him. “Oh, that’ll be nice, tell her I say hello.”

“I will,” he says as the ad break ends and the next programme starts. 

You’d been watching a travel show, making a mental note of some of the places you want to run away to when this is all over. After you’d arrived back at the apartment, about an hour ago, and kicked your shoes off, put your bag and the cake box down and sat on the couch and turned the TV on, you’d flicked through some channels and settled on it and hadn’t moved since. You’d heard Steve move around in the kitchen for a few minutes before he’d joined you, handing you a drink and a blanket.

You’d both sat quietly, commenting every now and then on the places shown and how nice they were, both of you knowing you don’t want to talk quite yet about the day.

Now, though, the talk show you’d caught yesterday begins. As the opening theme plays, you exhale a breath and Steve shifts as one of the presenters talks over it, images and headlines on the screen.

Images of you and Steve from today.

“Let the wedding bells ring! It looks like our new favourite couple are deep into planning their special day!” she trills. “On the show today we’ll be giving you all the coverage of where they went and what they got up to... and the wedding date!”

Slightly shaky, zoomed in footage from someone’s phone starts to play, showing you and Steve walking back at the hotel, your arm looped through his, both of you smiling.

Ah, so someone had done more than just double-take.

Your lips twitch as Steve reaches for the remote.

“Also coming up, the must-have gift for kids this Christmas, you will not want to miss it!”

For a reason you don’t quite know, as the screen shows the presenters sat at their table, pictures of you and Steve displayed on the small screens behind them, a laugh escapes you. 

Steve’s gaze darts to you as he pauses and you laugh again. "What?”

Unable to stop a smile, you rub your face with your hands with a slight groan. “This is just so dumb.”

He glances at the screen, which shows the presenters poring over a copy of the menu from they bistro they must have printed off, and the corners of his mouth twitch.

“Are you kidding me, this is top-notch journalism,” he says, just as the woman declares with a laugh, “... well, I’d’ve had the salad and a margarita!”

You burst out laughing into your hands as you simultaneously groan and cringe, Steve’s chuckling only fuelling you on.

It’s a good minute or so before you both calm down, Steve looking at you with a grin, his arms folded as you blow out a breath and wipe your eyes. He opens his mouth to say something when your phone vibrates on the coffee table, the screen lighting up.

Clearing you throat as your smile lingers, you glance at it and see you have a notification so you lean over to try and get it. You fall just short, though, and you groan, looking at him.

“Help mee...”

“All right, all right, I got it...” Sighing mock-exasperatedly, he sits forward and leans over, lifting it and handing it to you.

He catches who the message is from.

"Thank you kindly,” you say as you sit up, reading the message.

Sitting back, he says it before he can stop himself. “Aaron, is that the door guard at our place?”

Oh.

“Yeah.” You don’t want to elaborate, and you reply to the message quickly before you lock your phone, dropping it into your lap, and look up at Steve... and there’s a slightly teasing smile on his lips.

“You like Aaron, huh?”

“No...” you scoff, folding your arms, and he just arches an eyebrow, making your mouth open and close. “... Maybe a little.”

 “All right.”

“Don’t start—”

His widening smile is accompanied by a tilt of his head and both eyebrows raising. “Hey, I owe you for all those Sharon jokes.”

You had ribbed him about that. A lot.

You pull a face as you make a begrudgingly agreeing sound, and he chuckles, his arm resting on the back of the couch. Looking at you, he speaks after a moment.

“I’m sorry that this is ruining starting something with him.”

You blink at him, your lips parting, before you snort quickly, waving your hand dismissively. “Oh, no, don’t be silly. I just like him, it’s just a crush, doesn’t mean I actually want to have a relationship with him. Everyone has those kind of crushes, don’t you?”

Did I say that too quickly.

He looks at you for a few moments, then his eyebrows raise a little. “Ah... Well, yeah, a couple, possibly.”

“Who?”

Now I definitely said that too quickly.

He shrugs a shoulder, rubbing a hand against his jaw. “Couple of people at work.”

“Well,” you smile, tilting your head, “Sorry if this is ruining anything for you with them.”

He chuckles as he shakes his head. “Well, sounds like we’ve got options once the break up’s announced.”

“Yeah,” you laugh, perhaps a touch too forcefully.

There’s silence.

“Well,” you say a little loudly, pushing the blanket off of you and sliding your legs off of the couch, “I think I’m gonna go and take a nap. Cake tasting is exhausting.”

“Who knew, huh?”

He smiles as he watches you go. It fades a little as you ascend the stairs.

A crush these days meant you didn’t want a relationship?

He doesn’t just have a crush, then.

Well, the first part of that is true. Sitting on a couch not designed for sitting on, you play with your hands in your lap as your gaze travels the room. Nat had, she’d told you before you’d left that morning, bought the whole place out, for the sake of sensationalism, security and it just seemed like something a very famous person would do.

‘Sensationalism’ is so far so successful; there is a crowd of people similar in size to the one at the cake shop outside, trying to look through the French windows, though you’re located at the back of the shop. As for security, it means Nat doesn’t have to plant people inside and you won’t get crowded and overwhelmed by people coming up to you, and for seeming like something a famous person would do? Yeah, probably, you don’t know.

“Just have some fun,” Nat had said as you’d gone down in the elevator. “It’s just trying on some dresses and having a fun time with your friends.”

Fun.

You’d nearly laughed. But, you’d just smiled and nodded, because that’s what you do now, smile and nod and go along with things. If you don’t, that leads to conversations, and conversations lead to you having to admit to things, like the panic attack you’d had that morning as you’d dressed or the fact you have feelings for your best friend and every moment of this week is both wonderful and torturous. 

Speaking of... you haven’t seen Steve today.

Last night, after you’d woken up from your nap, you’d showered, masturbated while in there, ‘cause, hey, things had only gotten more stressful, and changed and wandered downstairs, but Steve was nowhere to be seen. Then you’d heard sounds of machines in the gym room and realised he was working out. He’d left a note for you on the island, though, saying there were leftovers in the oven of what he’d cooked. You’d eaten alone, watching TV.

You did that for about two hours, and Steve didn’t emerge once, still working out. You hadn’t thought anything of it, though, he is super-human. So, you’d gone to bed, leaving him a note in return saying thank you, you hadn’t wanted to disturb him and that you were going to bed, with a little drawn smiley face.

There’d been no note when you’d come down after calming yourself and pulling your shoes on, not wanting to be caught out like yesterday morning, just Nat.

But space is good for you two.

Even if you never usually go this long without at least messaging each other.

But this isn’t a ‘usually’ time.

“Y/N?”

The Christmas jazz music filters back into your hearing as your head snaps up to look at Dolly, sat on a gorgeous pale pink shell chair, her big eyes wider than usual.

“Yeah, sorry?”

Her smile is wide and her eyes seem to be only getting wider. “I can try on one thing, right?”

You nod as you smile. “Uh, yeah. As bridesmaids, you probably actually should try something.”

She releases a sound akin to a squeal and claps her hands together. “Great! What colour do you want for us?”

“Uh...” Oh, you know this, you talked about it with Nat in the car... “... Red.”

Bridget looks at you, then exhales a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God, I thought you were gonna carry on and say ‘white and blue’.”

Your lips twitch as you tilt your head. “Come on, we’re not gonna be that on the nose.”

Bridget raises their eyebrows but before they can retort a woman, Sally, appears with an ice bucket, a bottle of champagne inside, and three glasses. All three of you give some kind of very grateful sound before thanking her as she sets them down on the glass table before you. You also all cheer as she pops the champagne, (God, who are we... desperate for free alcohol, that’s who), and thank her again as she fills the glasses and hands one to you each.

Beaming, she stands back, her hands clasped together. “Can I get anything else for y’all?”

You hum as you quickly swallow your mouthful. “Mmh. Yes, please. Do you have any dresses in red, for these two?”

She glances at them, her gaze sweeping over them and you realise she’s expertly measuring them, and nods. “Absolutely. What style would you like?”

“Uh, any, we’ve got time.”

Her beam grows as she nods. “Wonderful, I’ll be five minutes.”

You take another sip as she trots off to the back room. Much like at the cake shop, you’d said to the shop attendants assisting you, all five of them now having nothing to do but assist you, that you will try everything and anything. Like Damilola, they’d looked delighted, probably used to, as you’d seen on reality shows, people coming in with very specific requests.

And, boy, do you all have the time to try every damn thing on. Dolly and Bridget have the day off, Yvette being very understanding at the short notice, officially, though unofficially she probably isn’t too pleased to not have her best receptionist and the Head of IT on the same day.

Who am I kidding, she never breaks a sweat. Probably a good time to get those interns trained up, too.

You also have the time as you were meant to be visiting two places today, though the first hadn’t exactly gone to plan. In other words, you’d walked out.

“Oh, our, uhm, our plus-size section isn’t very large.”

You fold your arms as Bridget raises their eyebrows and Dolly narrows her eyes.

“Oh? And why not?”

The woman, Candace, looks between you, her cheeks pink. “Oh, because we, uhm...”

You raise your eyebrows, placing your hands on the counter. “I’m about to blow your mind, Candace, but bigger people get married, too. And you’ve just lost my custom.”

You’d walked out seconds after, a smug smile hinting on your lips as Candace had called after you, practically begging for you to return, that they could order whatever you wanted in, but you’d just kept walking, Bridget telling Candace to save it as Dolly looped her arm through yours.

Nat had apologised profusely once you’d gotten into the SUV she was going to spend the day ferrying you three around in, saying it hadn’t occurred to her to check, as Dolly and Bridget had stared at her, still unused to being in her presence.

Of course it hadn’t occurred to her.

This place, though, The Pearl... It’s gorgeous. Despite not having felt offended at the last place, just angry and exasperated, you couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated. What if this was going to be your whole day? Going from place to place just because they were dumb and exclusionary? You’d felt welcomed the moment you walked in, though, all five assistants and Sally smiling as they greeted each of you in turn, and all Sally, obviously the senior member from how she led the conversation, had done was ask you your usual dress size and that had been it.

You look at the interior again, taking in the pale pink and white walls, framed photos on them of dresses or models in them, or real people on their wedding days in them, the plush cream carpet, the crystal chandeliers, the gorgeously decorated Christmas trees in each corner, the fairy lights adorning the counter by the front door.

Yeah... I can have fun here. And why the fuck not? Trying on dresses is always fun, no matter what, and there’s free champagne and I’m here with Dolly and Bridge’.

Sitting back on the pale pink couch, the tightening in your chest easing, you sip your champagne with a smile.

Am I a champagne person now? This week’s telling me yes.

Bridget stretches their legs out as they sigh contentedly. Looking at you, they smile softly. “How are you feeling about the interview?”

You pull a face as you hold the glass between both hands. “You know about that?”

“Uh, it’s been trending on Twitter for the last two days is all anyone’s talking about.”

You groan as you take another, longer sip.

“So how do you feel?” Dolly gently repeats the question.

You smile lightly, looking between them with raised brows. “How do you think?”

She smiles softly, endearing assurance in her tone. “You’re gonna be fine, Y/N.”

 You open your mouth, then close it. Then again... you can talk about it freely with these two, they’ll understand without feeling guilty or worrying too much or treating you like a breakable vase.

You exhale a breath, one you feel like you’ve been holding for days. “I don’t know, it’s live and we haven’t been able to get an idea of what they’re gonna ask yet and... I just don’t want to think about it too much, really.”

Bridget rests their arm on the back of the couch, turning their body to you. “That’s not like you. I’ve watched you spend months preparing for one meeting.”

“That’s different.”

“No, it’s not.” They point a finger at you. “This is a meeting, and you’re pitching your marriage.”

You have no idea how close to the truth that is.

You take a breath. “Can I practise on you two, then?”

Both of them perk up, smiles wide.

“Absolutely!” Dolly enthuses. “We’ve been dying for you to tell us all the details, we’ve been so patient.”

“And a little bit offended,” Bridget adds good-naturedly with an arched brow.

“I know, I know,” you smile, even as your chest twinges.

“It’s fine, two birds, one stone, you can make up for it now and practise,” Bridget says, holding their glass on their knee and fixing you with an expectant gaze and adopting a stereotypical news reader voice. “So, how did this happen, when was the first kiss, the first fondle, the engagement, I want every dirty detail, and the romantic details, too.”

“Okay,” you say through your laughter as Dolly giggles. “All right, all right... God, I’m gonna need more champagne.”

He could see the headline now; Cap Goes To Seek Former Flame’s Approval!

At least it would be better than the one’s that had been written when he’d gone on two dates with Sharon. Had that been why they’d both ended it? The media pressure, the questions, the constant hounding? No, but maybe that had been a factor in it. Sharon is great, but... He hadn’t felt a real connection, and neither had she.

He’d only felt that connection a few times in his life, so he knew when something was worth fighting for.

"Engaged, hm?” Peggy Carter fixes him with her gaze, an eyebrow arched, and, God, nothing ever passes her by, not even now.

A smile pulling at his lips, he raises his own eyebrows a little. “Peg—”

She exhales a laugh. “You can’t tell me, I understand.” Lacing her fingers together on her stomach, she smiles. “I do like her.”

“You’ve never met her,” he reminds her gently.

“I know,” she adjusts her head on her pillow, “but the way you talk about her makes me like her. How is she doing with all of this?”

He nods, his own hands clasped together. “Okay, I think. She’s tough.”

Peggy looks at him, her jaw moving minutely. “Hm.”

“What?”

Her lips lift a little, her features soft. “People called me tough. Said I handled things okay. But I can’t tell you how many times I cried in my office, then pulled myself together. I don’t mind crying, it’s very therapeutic, but I would have hated them to see me do it, hated what they would have twisted it into. Or even some of my friends, how they might have gently told me to maybe cut back my hours or something like that, to take on less. But just because I cried it didn’t mean I couldn’t handle matters.”

Steve opens his mouth when she continues, “Did you know that after you went into the ice our relationship is all anyone wanted to talk to me about? Interview me about? Even when I became Director of SHIELD the same questions followed me around, ‘What do you think Steve would think? Would he be proud? Do you still miss him?’”

Something in him twists as he looks at her. “I’m sorry, Peg.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Lord, I’m not saying it to make you feel bad, Steve, still so dramatic...” Her features soften again, but her gaze fixes on his. “I’m just trying to give a little perspective, having been in the position she is. It’s not easy.”

He exhales a long breath, his shoulders dropping a little. “That’s what I’m afraid of, actually.”

Her brow dips. “What do you mean?”

“Like you just said, it’s not easy being with me.”

“Steve Rogers...” His gaze, having lowered, meets hers again, and he finds it faintly incredulous. “... It’s the easiest thing in the world being with you. You are easy to be with. It’s the rest of the world that’s the problem.”

A corner of his mouth lifts. “I liked where that was goin’ but that last part doesn’t make me feel any better.”

She huffs out a laugh, tilting her head. “But the rest of the world doesn’t matter, though, does it? Not if you’re with someone you love, hm?”

He looks at her, his lips lifting a little higher. “No, it doesn’t.”

“... So, it was only a couple of weeks ago... We were out at the park we like to walk in, you know the one, I go on about it all the time, the trees are always on my Instagram ‘cause it’s just so pretty, ‘nd it’s quiet, y’know, we’re in the middle of winter, and it’s dark, no one wants to really be out walking, except us...”

 You’ve had a bit more champagne than you probably should, but, hey, go away, morals, this is a nice story.

“... so we’re walking, and we’re just talking, and then we stop, and we’re looking up at the stars...”

Dolly, Bridget, Sally, and the other five shop assistants, Donna, Nicole, Max, Jamie and Priya all sigh together at the imagery, and your eyebrows raise and you nod in an expression of, ‘I know’.

“... and then he just gets down on one knee and asks me to marry him.”

They all sigh again, a couple of them putting their hands to their chests and ‘aww’ing and you nod as you sip your champagne because, yeah, that is very cute.

Good one, me.

“What did he say? How did he ask you?” Max asks, all the assistants bunched together on a long couch they’d dragged over.

You take another, longer sip of champagne because what did he say...

“... Oh, well, that’s just between me and him,” you say with a coy smile and they all boo good-naturedly.

Nice one.

“That’s such a lovely story,” Sally smiles warmly and you return it before raising your eyebrows.

“Shall we carry on trying these gorgeous dresses?”

They all cheer and the assistants get to their feet and scurry off to the back to find more for you and Dolly and Bridget. You look at your two friends, Dolly in a yellow ballgown, Bridget in a multi-coloured floral suit, and beam. You are wearing an ivory lace number that hugs your figure and then flows out just below your hips, and are trying very hard not to spill champagne on it.

The session had quickly escalated into Dolly and Bridget trying on whatever they wanted between red dresses, and you just putting on whatever was brought out. You’d told Sally you were here to get an idea of what you wanted, but that you’d be returning very soon. Nat has scheduled in another dress shopping day for Friday and you’d quickly messaged her about half an hour ago while you were changing to cancel wherever that was and make it here. She hadn’t argued.

You’re also giving little bits of details here and there to practise for the interview, your first kiss (at your place after watching a film), when you’d said I love you, (at his place after having dinner and watching a film together), and the story of how he proposed. You’re going to have to remember all this to tell Steve, though, so you keep making notes on your phone as you get changed.

You’ve also sent him a message because you still haven’t spoken.

You know he’s with Peggy, though, so he absolutely won’t be checking his phone, but... 

It just feels strange.

“Right...” Your attention comes back into the room as Sally and Jamie appear with an armful of dresses each, “... We have a vintage style one here that we think y’all are gonna love.”

Dolly claps her hands together as Bridget gasps dramatically.

“Vintage? Oh, he’s absolutely gonna love that.”

You don’t know why that makes you feel warm. It’s not like he’s actually going to see you in it... Unless...

“... Thank you so much! ... We will! We’ll see you Friday!”

You have to practically drag Dolly out of the back doors of The Pearl, the three of you giggling as you wave at the assistants. Who knew you could become such firm friends with people in the space of in five hours? Well, two bottles of champagne will do that.

You’re on the higher end of tipsy, in a lovely, warm, chatty way, and you have lined your stomach and soaked some of it up, Sally having ordered you all food so you wouldn’t have to leave and 1) Face the crowd, and 2) You couldn’t be bothered to leave, really.

The crowd is also the reason you’re leaving out the back doors, none of you wanting to face the horde outside. It has grown throughout the day, people desperate to get even the tiniest glimpse of you and what you’re wearing. Priya had closed the curtains after an hour, though, and they’d had two of their security guards stationed outside the front doors and it was just bliss. You’d had the chance to forget all about the outside world and just have some fun. Moving across the staff parking lot for The Pearl and a couple of surrounding shops, people haven’t had the chance to get in because it’s guarded, and the man whose job that is looks up from his newspaper in his little station, then looks back down.

Bliss.

Nat waits for you in the SUV, those sunglasses on, one hand leaning against the steering wheel.

“Such a ‘top’ pose,” Bridget stage-whispers and you’re all falling into giggles again.

You’re still gigging as you climb into the car, you in the passenger seat, Dolly and Bridget behind you. Nat’s lips twitch as she raises an eyebrow.

“Did we all have a fun time?”

“So fun.” Dolly, who is usually the most intimidated by Nat, which isn’t surprising considering she has a crush on her and they’ve both only met her three times before, including today, launches into a glowing review of the shop and day, “Everyone was so nice and the dresses and suits and jumpsuits and shoes are gorgeous, I can’t wait until we go back, oh my God, it’s all I’m gonna think about tomorrow...”

Nat’s smile lingers on her lips as she heads towards Dolly’s apartment, Dolly carrying on for the whole journey with Bridget occasionally butting in to add a comment. You laugh the whole way, your cheeks almost hurting from how much you’ve been grinning.

Nat parks up outside Dolly’s building, and turns in her seat, pushing her sunglasses up onto her head and meeting Dolly’s gaze, which provokes a pink blush to rise on her cheeks.

“Sounds like a really good day, then.”

Dolly just nods now, swallowing lightly. “Yep.”

Glancing from her to Bridget, Nat smiles and you think you hear Bridget let out the quietest of sounds. Wanting to save them both, or maybe they don’t want to be saved, they could be loving gazing into her eyes, who knows at this point, you turn to them, too.

“Oke doke, we’ll see you later, Doll’, I’ll text you when Sam and I are on the way.”

Bridget’s eyes whip to you, their mouth dropping open. “Sam’s picking us up?!”

You can’t stop your smile from widening, your eyebrows rising. “Yeah.”

“Oh my God, right, I need to go home and get ready now, Doll’ get out, I only have three hours, oh my God...”

Dolly is laughing so hard she nearly trips out of the SUV, and one hand is on your chest as the other wipes at your eyes as you laugh. Dolly waves from the pavement as she grins before she trots into the building, and all feelings of intimidation have left Bridget as they point ahead.

“Step on it, Nat, this is a national emergency, go...”

Nat just shakes her head as she turns back around, but she’s still smiling and you’re still laughing. “All right, all right, don’t worry, hold on...”

And, boy, does she mean it.

How does she drive this fast and this safely.

There’s just something about getting ready for a night-out while you’re tipsy. 

Sometimes, if you haven’t had a chance to pre-drink, you have a few moments of ‘ugh, do I really want to go out, I can’t be bothered, there’s that new show out, I’m so tired, oh my God, what if I do something embarrassing...’ but now, the champagne having only worn off a little from what you made yourself for dinner, and, okay, it probably didn’t help that you also made yourself an alcoholic beverage to have with it, you’re still quite buzzed.

Steve hadn’t been home yet and Nat had left a few minutes after making sure you were inside the penthouse so you’d been able to play your music and yell along to it. You’d been able to take your time getting ready, trying on a few outfits before settling on a true classic number that makes a lot of appearances on nights out because 1) you look amazing in it, and 2) you look really damn amazing in it.

You’d even, Nat having requested it, taken a selfie once you were ready and uploaded it to your Instagram story, along with a few gifs of glasses clinking together and someone dancing.

Job done, you’d returned to the group chat you have with Dolly and Bridget and sent them the picture, accompanied with, ‘time to fuckin party’. You could send them a picture of you in a bin bag and they’d still reply with the same thing they do for every photo, and you would for them.

They swiftly send their own photos.

God, they’re great.

You ignored the slight, unpleasant flip in your stomach at seeing Steve’s message, that he sent an hour ago and you haven’t replied to yet.

You message each other every day so you never send ‘kisses’, so this just makes you think he’s done it to soften the blow of a slightly blunt message. Is it blunt? Or are you reading too much in to it? He has had a busy day based on what Nat told you when she’d driven you to the penthouse. He was seeing Peggy all day and then going over to Bucky’s to see him, and then they are going to have their own night out.

That’s busy, right.

Whatever, he doesn’t have to reply all the time, it’s fine.

You reply:

Which is the kind of reply you’d give to someone at work.

You’d ignored your phone vibrating as people, strangers, react to your Instagram story, slipped it into your bag and headed downstairs.

If you were an ego-maniac, Sam’s reaction on top of your friends would just make your head explode.

“Well, hello, ma’am!”

“Oh, stop it.”

“Nu-uh, let me look at you... Wo-ow. You look amazing.”

“Stop it... but thank you, I know.”

The moment you got into his SUV, (does everyone get one the moment they join SHIELD?) he has music playing that you can both sing along and dance in your seats to. Bridget had told you to pick them up last to give them more time so you swing by Dolly’s place first and she looks gorgeous as always in a short, glittery pink dress with matching eyeshadow and lipstick, her blonde hair curled and bouncing.

You give little squeals as you see each other, despite having only seen each other a few hours ago, and she’s definitely still buzzed, too. Sam gives her the same reaction he gave you and, God, you love him.

As you pull up outside Bridget’s building, you can’t stop meeting Dolly’s gaze in the rear-view mirror, your lips twitching. She’s doing a worst job than you at hiding her smile, her hand in front of her mouth, and you’re both trying so hard to stop a laugh.

It escapes when he gets out of the car and closes the door and you’re both turning in your seats to stare at Bridget as they walk out, gorgeous as always in a buttoned up, black blazer with no shirt underneath and matching black shorts, one side of their head freshly shaved. Dolly’s hand darts out and grips your arm as Sam approaches them and kisses their cheek and they’re both smiling but you can’t hear what they’re saying and you hate SUVs, are these things sound-proof, I’ll ask Nat...

As they climb into the car, you and Dolly are staring at Bridget, smiling. They just raise their eyebrows, grinning and say, “Hey, girls.”

“Well, hello.”

“Hi.”

You have to once again stop a laugh as Sam starts to drive, turning the music up, and you were all soon yelling along to the songs.

Now here you are, at a roof-top bar, being escorted to a table that had been reserved for you. Usually, you’d go to your favourite bar opposite work but Sam had gently insisted that you move it to another place he was more familiar with and where he could have better access to an exit and eyes on you. For a place simply titled The Venue, it’s very nice up here; it’s large, fire pits and heaters dotted around so you can’t feel the cold, a stunning view of the city, low, sultry tunes playing, a dance-floor in one corner, everything either purple, red, or gold. There’s even table service, and you recognise a few people dotted around.

“Is that—”

“Oh my God, yes...” Bridget whispers back to Dolly’s question as they stare at a table a little way away.

Your lips twitch as you each take a seat at a wooden table with a candle on it, the chairs red and plush. Your server informs you that a tab has already been set up for you, so you each grab a menu and debate for a good few minutes about what to get, the server standing patiently. Settling on cocktails, the server leaves with a beam, promising to be back in a few minutes.

“God, this place is fancy,” Bridget says, turning in their seat to get another look at everything. 

“And we actually have a table!” Dolly sighs delightedly.

“Perks of being Mrs America, huh?” Bridget turns back around to look at you, their eyebrows raising with a smirk.

You snort, your cheeks heating. “Not quite yet.”

Bridget opens their mouth but Dolly gets in first, gasping suddenly. “Did you see the news by the way?”

You pull a slight face. “No, I don’t tend to look at it anymore.”

She beams, her eyes sparkling. “Well, what happened at the dress shop, at the first place, everyone’s talking about it. People are so happy you said something and brought attention to it, there’s so many discussions being had about the wedding dress industry and the fashion industry in general when it comes to plus size clothing.”

The server returns before you can reply, and as she sets your drinks down you feel heat rise on your face again as you bite at your lower lip, pride spreading through you.

Well... Great power, great responsibility... I could get all kinds of stuff to be talked about... Note to self, change world tomorrow.

The three of you take long sips of your chosen drinks, humming in delight at the taste. As you lick your lips and set your glass down, Bridget places their arms on the table and leans forward.

“Now, come on, Y/N...”

Your eyebrows raise. “... What?”

Bridget tilts their head. “What’s he like in bed.”

You give your best scandalised gasp as Dolly laughs and Bridget smirks, continuing, “He’s kinky, isn’t he? It’s always the quiet ones...”

“Bridget Sanderson,” you gasp again, even as you grin, Dolly’s laugh infectious, “A lady never tells.”

“Well, you ain’t no lady so spill.”

You take a long sip of your drink to buy some time.

Could you? Should you?

Well, I’m in this far... And they won’t let it slide...

Licking your lips, you lean forward and lower your voice. “All the details?”

Dolly giggles and claps her hands together as Bridget grins. “All of them, you saucy bitch.”

Who knew you were so imaginative. Who knew you could remember every detail of every fantasy you have ever had about your best friend. Who knew you could think up such filthy, delightful things. Who knew you’d start comparing these imaginings with actual things you’ve done in your life, and that Dolly and Bridget have done with their sexual partners.

Who knew all three of you could drink so much.

Sorry to whoever’s paying the tab. The government? Shit, sorry, government, no wait, no I’m not, another round!

As the server, Melanie, you found out is her name while ordering the second drink, brings you your fourth drinks, you’re currently in the middle of laughing so hard it hurts at a story Dolly is telling of a sexual encounter, tears streaming from your eyes.

“... and then...” She dissolves into laughter herself, leaning over. “... and then her cat came in and it just, it just sat on the bedside table and made eye contact with me and...” God, you bloody love her laugh. “... she was doin’ such great things and sayin’ such good dirty talk but all I could do was stare at this cat and I just felt like apologising to it... and then it just started licking itself!”

Bridget is practically curled up in their chair as they laugh and you’re having to wipe at your cheeks, practically crying. Once you’ve all calmed down, you blow out a breath and massage your stomach.

“Oh my God, Doll’, I can’t believe you never told us that story...”

“I’m gonna wanna hear it again every day,” Bridget says, running a hand through their hair as they grin.

Dolly beams, sipping her drink. “I’d forgotten ‘bout it, think I repressed it.”

“So Steve’s into dirty talk, too, huh?” Bridget asks, sipping their own drink.

You nod several times, because part of you had always just thought, with him being such a great commander and leader, that he would be... and you’ve already told them that he is. “Mmhm, he’s made me come by jus’ his words alone.”

“No.”

“Get th’ fuck outta here.”

You nod smugly, your tongue catching your straw and you take a long sip. Not a total lie, you’ve imagined his voice in your ear several times... with a vibrator helping you along. And, hey, you won’t feel guilty about any of this ‘cause this is boosting his image... to your friends.

Dolly’s eye are wide and she and Bridget lean in, wanting more sordid details. You grin, happy to oblige and divulge more of your fantasies.

“So, it was when he was away one time ‘nd he called me ‘nd—”

“Excuse me?”

All three of you pause and turn to look at a woman, close to your age, smiling as she pushes her brown straight hair over her shoulder.

“Hi.”

“H’llo.”

“Hiya.”

“Hey,” she says, holding a phone in her hands as she looks at you. “I’m sorry to bother you, but can my friends and I get a photo with you?”

You blink, and look at her. Did... Yeah, you heard it right. Photo? With you?

You nod quickly, realising you’re just staring and silent. “Oh, yeah, sure, absolutely.”

What the fuck is happening. I hope I don’t sound as drunk as I feel. Or look it, oh my God, are my eyes open properly?

You push yourself up and, oh, fuck, yep, you’re drunk, and step around your chair as the woman beams and beckons her five friends over.

“Thank you so much!”

Bridget offers to take the photo, the woman very grateful, and she and her friends introduce themselves, a little tipsy and giddy with nerves and being with a celebrity, oh my God, I’m a celebrity, this is hilarious...

You stand in the middle, your arms around the girls either side of you, and you smile, making sure your eyes are open properly, as they pose. Bridget takes a few photos before smiling and handing the phone back to the first woman as they break away from you.

“Oh my God, thank you so much!”

“You’re so pretty!”

“We’re so jealous of you!”

You just smile and nod, trying to appear a little more sober.

“Thank you, have a nice night!” you call as they wander off, still giddy with excitement and all wanting to look at the photo.

Sitting back down, blinking, you look at Bridget and Dolly. They’re looking at you, blinking, too. It’s Bridget who finally speaks.

“... So, as you were sayin’ ‘bout gettin’ absolutely railed by America’s Finest?”

The three of you dissolve into giggles again, Dolly throwing her head back as Bridget leans over the table and your hands cover your mouth.

“Hey!”

Oh my God, I really am a celebrity.

Your wide smile lingering, you lower your hands and look up at the woman. You hear a chair scrape back on the stone floor somewhere as you pause. Hang on, you know this woman—

“You worthless bitch!”

Dolly screams as the woman throws some kind of small can at you and you’re suddenly drenched in a thick, liquid, your eyes closing just in time. Someone else screams as you hear Bridget shove their chair back and yell obscenities at the woman, lunging for her, but suddenly other voices are there, and they must be pulling the woman away because her own screams are coming from further and further away.

You’re frozen in your seat, hands half-raised. People are shouting around you but you barely listen. Dazed, your hands continue moving up, as they had been doing to protect yourself, and you wipe the liquid away from your eyes, and slowly open them.

You can feel the cold now, the heaters and fire-pits worthless, the liquid sticking to your skin and clothes. Or maybe you’re just shaking because you’re in shock.

You suddenly realise someone has been talking to you. Your head moving, you meet Sam’s gaze, suddenly feeling his hand on your back. His features are soft and his voice is gentle, but you can see the rage in his eyes.

“I got you, it’s all right. Can you get up? And we’ll get you out of here?”

You nod and lower your gaze, going to reach for your bag.

“It’s all right, I got it,” he says and your eyes move to his other hand, confirming that he does.

Getting to your feet, Sam’s arm goes around your shoulders and your feet are moving. People are still shouting, some trying to take photos, but there are people pushing them away, giving you and Sam space to head towards a door he’s leading you to.

It’s paint, you realise suddenly. Blue paint. You look back down at yourself again, watching it stain your skin and clothes.

“Where’s Bridge’ and Dolly?” you hear yourself ask.

“Another agent’s got ‘em, don’t worry, she’s gonna take ‘em home.”

Sam shoves the door open and you step into a stairwell, two men stood inside it. One of them moves to your left and you see an elevator, which the man opens by typing in a code on a keypad. Sam’s hand is still on your back, gently guiding you into it. The doors shut as the man types in another code, and Sam drops his hand from you and presses a button marked ‘B’. The elevator starts to descend and you stare at the doors.

“We’re gonna get you home, all right?” Sam says quietly, and you just nod, not caring to ask if he means home home, or the penthouse.

You hear him unzip his jacket. Yeah, it is hot in here. Your skin is warm all over and your throat feels tight, and you can’t quite take in a deep enough breath. Then you hear the sound of something ripping. Your gaze darting to Sam, he holds a section of his polo shirt in his hand and offers it to you. You stare at it, your brain putting the pieces together, and then you take it. You wipe at your eyes, mouth and face, and Sam zips his jacket back up and looks at you.

“You okay?” His voice is quiet again and you’re grateful for it because even the sound of his shirt tearing has made your heart beat faster.

“That was the woman from my work, who got in, wasn’t it?” you ask blankly, your volume matching his.

He shifts a little, scratching at his jaw as you hear him release a breath. “Yeah.”

You nod, swallowing hard and you wish the lump in your throat would go away. “Right.” He opens his mouth when you continue, finally meeting his gaze, “Why did you do that, Sam? You’ve blown your cover, surely, or they’ll know I’m being watched.”

He gives a light smile. “People will expect you to be watched, it would’ve been suspicious if no one stepped in.”

“Ah.” You start to wipe at your hands.

Sam tilts his head slightly, his smile softening. “And I wanted to get you out of there.”

You meet his gaze again, but you don’t have the energy to smile, despite the sentiment being touching, and just nod. His eyes linger on you as you look back down at your hands, concern swiftly replacing his smile. 

The elevator slows then comes to a halt, the doors sliding open a moment later, and the cold night air washes over you as you both step out into the underground parking garage, yet another one, Sam’s hand returning to your back. The place is silent, and you spot Sam’s SUV amongst a few other cars, both of you heading towards it. He gestures to someone in another car but you don’t care to look, assuming it’s another agent.

He moves a step ahead of you to open the passenger side door and you stop abruptly.

“What?” he says instantly, tensing.

“The paint. It’s gonna ruin the seat.”

He looks at you for a moment, his features relaxing into a smile. “Ah, that’s all right. That can be taken care of.”

You get in after he nods, and he places your bag on your lap. Closing the door, he jogs around to the driver’s side as you buckle your seatbelt then settle your hands over your bag, gripping it along with the piece of his shirt. Your eyes focus and stay on the dashboard as he secures his own seatbelt and puts the car into ‘drive’.

The barrier is more guarded than the other parking garages you’d been in this week but that hasn’t stopped paparazzi and occupants of the building from gathering, assuming that’s how you’d leave the area. You keep your eyes on the dashboard as lights flash and people shout.

Shouting, always shouting.

Sam doesn’t drive as fast as Nat, but he’s goes at some speed when you’re out on the main road. “Steve’s gonna meet us at the apartment,” he says after a couple of minutes, keeping his eyes on the road, “He was out with Barnes.”

“Okay.” Your voice sounds small to your own ears, distant.

Neither of you talk.

You look at your hands, the paint dry and barely having come off from when you’d rubbed at them in the elevator.

You start rubbing at them again, then use your nail, trying to scrape what you can off.

“Shit...” Sam murmurs suddenly.

Glancing up at him, you find him looking in the rear-view mirror every few moments.

“What is it?”

“Someone’s followin’ us.”

Your stomach drops, and exhaustion hits you like a fucking freight train. From his reaction, you guess it’s not a news van.

Sam presses a button on the steering wheel and the sound of dialling fills the interior.

Nat answers on the first ring.

"Where are you?”

“Nat, we’re bein’ followed.”

“Shit. All right, there’s a car on the way. Change your route.”

“Okay.” He takes the next left, and you know your heart should be pounding but you’re just so tired.

“How far away are you?”

“About fifteen minutes,” Sam replies, glancing up at the rear-view mirror. “We’re definitely bein’ followed, Nat.”

“The car will be there in three minutes. Keep taking turns, it’ll follow behind them.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N, nearly home,” Sam murmurs.

“Mhm.”

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Nat asks, her voice a little softer.

“Mhm.”

Sam glances at you as he pulls up at a red light, his lips pressing together. “Not long now.”

“Mhm—”

The sound twists into a gasp as you’re thrown forward slightly, the seatbelt catching you. Sucking in a breath through your teeth, you lift your head and look in the wing mirror as Sam spits out a curse.

A car, its bonnet dented, is reversing... then it speeds towards you again.

“Sam—”

“I see it.”

“Sam, what’s going on?” Nat demands to know as Sam pushes his foot down on the accelerator, the SUV lurching forward.

“We just got hit, they’re tryna ram us.”

“Are you both okay?”

Sam’s expertly weaving through the traffic, leaving horns blaring in your wake, but he just keeps going.

“Y/N, you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, yeah, fine.” It’s an automatic response, but you think you are. Physically, at least. Whiplash will properly rear its head soon, though.

A faint memory comes to you, however, of Sam telling you all the SHIELD cars have been built to absorb the impact of things like this, it having happened a fair few times, leaving the occupants with minimal damage, if none, so maybe not.

“Are they still following?”

“Nah, I don’t think so. Think we lost ‘em.” He only slows his speed a little, though.

“You’re right, the agents are following them now, just get back here as quick as you can.”

“All right.”

The call ends and Sam glances at you.

“Y/N, you gotta tell me if you’re not okay, are you hu—”

“I’m fine, Sam, thank you.” You swallow hard, the lump still in your throat.

He falls silent, leaving you be, and you’re grateful for it because you’re so fucking tired.

Several minutes later, he pulls up at the penthouse building and he makes you wait, sliding out of his seat and jogging round to open your door. People stare as he ushers you across the main foyer to the elevator that’ll take you up to your floor but you just look ahead. Thankfully, Sam doesn’t say a word as the elevator ascends and you just look at the doors. When they slide open at the penthouse floor and you step out into the tiny circular foyer, you let Sam get his keycard out, opening the door.

And then the noise washes over you.

People talking, to each other, over each other, on phones, demanding, ordering, snapping. You hear the door close and feel Sam behind you as you slowly walk down the short hallway, then into the living room area.

There are agents everywhere, maybe about twenty, all stood around, talking. Loudly.

They don’t look up at you as they continue on with whatever they’re doing, typing on tablets, staring at tablets, standing over a hologram of what you realise is the floor-plan of the penthouse.

“Y/N.” Your eyes dart up to Nat as she approaches, striding across the carpet. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Tired.”

“Okay.” Her gaze scans you, assessing, and you’re too drained to care that she knows you’re lying. Her hand settles on your arm gently and she holds your gaze, her voice lowering. “We analysed what this is, okay, we got the can of it from the woman, and it’s just paint—”

“Who is she?”

Nat pauses at your abrupt question, and you know she’s weighing up what to tell you. Her hand doesn’t move from your arm as she speaks, “Her name’s Marise Daniels. She’s one of Steve’s stalkers, we’ve been aware of her for a while.”

Stalkers. One of.

“Oh.”

“She...” Sam starts to say, choosing his own words carefully. “... She isn’t meant to be out, especially after what happened at your work.”

“Apparently there was a system error. Someone’s seriously fucked up,” Nat continues, the information new to you both considering Sam’s hissed release of a breath.

“Is that why these people are all here.” You don’t think you’ve ever heard your own voice sound so lifeless.

Nat pauses again, weighing her words again and, God, just tell me. “Someone tried to break in. They got into the elevator and overrode it, got up here but they couldn’t get in. The tampering alerted our systems but by the time we got here they’d gone. We’re checking CCTV footage now and asking people if they saw anything.”

You look at her, her words barely feeling like they reach you. “So why are all these people in here.”

Her hand is gently rubbing your arm now, and it’s faintly starting to ground you. “They’re checking the security systems in place here, making sure they’re secure or reinforced.”

“Okay.”

“They’ll be gone in thirty minutes, I promise.”

“Okay.”

She takes in a breath and smiles lightly. “How about we—”

“Agent Romanoff?”

A muscle in her jaw ticks slightly but she turns to the agent, her eyebrows raising. “Yeah?”

The agent lowers her phone from her ear. “Captain Rogers has helped to apprehend the suspect. He’s on his way over. Agents Moore and Lane are taking the suspect back to HQ.”

“All right, tell them to...”

Nat’s voice drops out of your hearing, and your gaze drifts to the stairs. Sam’s hand settles on your back, rubbing gently, and you remember that he’s there.

“I’m gonna... gonna go upstairs and wash this off,” you mumble to him, and you don’t hear if he replies as you move forward.

People don’t look at you, continuing with their business, talking, talking, talking. You reach the top of the stairs before you know it, opening your bedroom door. You close it behind you, muffling the sounds of the people downstairs.

Removing your shoes, you drop your bag to join them on the floor as you head to the bathroom. You pull your outfit off, letting it drop to the floor, too, you can deal with it later, hopefully the washing machine will get it out.

You turn the shower on and step under the water. Head down, you watch some of the blue paint start to wash off, swirling and whirling in the water and disappearing down the drain. Only a little, though.

You have to use your hands and the body-wash to get it off. Scrubbing at your skin. Scraping at it.

You’re in there for twenty minutes. Scrubbing. Scraping.

When you finally make yourself get out your skin feels raw. There’s still a faint stain in some parts, though. You grab a towel and use it to continue rubbing at your skin, blue now staining the cream softness of it. The rest of your skin is dry by the time you make yourself stop and you pull the robe on.

Then you look at yourself in the mirror.

The lump returns to your throat and tears fill your eyes. You look... drained. And you fucking feel it. You’re exhausted. So exhausted, in every single way. You’ve spent all week fighting so hard to stay up-beat, to stay positive, to make this work, to see the good sides, but the world isn’t allowing that. You’d just wanted to yell at the woman, Marise, that you are doing this to keep him safe, that he is in danger, and you are just doing this to keep your fucking best friend safe.

The fact there’s still some blue paint staining your cheeks and neck is what makes the tears finally spill down your face. Sniffing, you swallow hard and grab a hand towel, wetting it and scrubbing at your skin once more.

It’s not moving.

You inhale a quiet, shuddering breath, almost a sob, as you stare at your reflection, scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing.

Three gentle knocks sound on your bedroom door.

“Come in,” you say automatically, your voice cracking, and you wipe at your eyes.

You look up as the door opens and see in the reflection... Steve.

He pauses, the door nearly closed behind him. You sniff again as you look at him, his eyes assessing you.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey,” you answer. You shrug then, your features crumbling. “... It’s not coming off.”

The door closes and he’s moving towards you.

“Come here, it’s okay...”

As you turn from the mirror, you’re then enveloped in his embrace, your cheek pressed against his chest as he holds you. A jagged sob escapes you as your arms go around him, holding onto his shirt, gripping it.

“It’s okay...” he murmurs again, and you feel his voice rumbling in his chest, his chin resting on your head.

You’ve tried so hard to stave off tears all week that now that you can, now you don’t care anymore, now that you’re so tired, they’re not stopping. The front of his grey shirt must be damp, now, and your throat hurts and your chest is heaving but you just let the tears come and come, and he doesn’t stop you, doesn’t say anything, just holds you, his hands occasionally stroking your back and arms gently.

It’s not until you start to draw back that he does, guiding you to the sit on the rim of the bath.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, wiping at your cheeks with one hand. “Still a bit drunk, I think.”

A corner of his mouth lifts a little as he crouches down before you and takes the hand towel. “You don’t need to apologise. You can cry as much as you like.”

Your own lips lift for a moment as you sniff, and then you want to cry all over again as he starts to gently dab at the stains on your face and neck. You watch him, your eyes tracing his nose and mouth, the small, concerned lines on his forehead. If he got into a fight with the suspect earlier, there’s no sign of it. His hair doesn’t even look tussled.

Your eyes continue moving and meet his. He lowers his hand and inhales a quiet breath.

“I’m sorry, about all of this, Y/N.”

You’re shaking your head before he’s even finished his sentence. “Steve, it’s not your fault.”

He looks almost pained at that, shaking his own head. “I could’ve prevented you being in this situation, though, I knew the risks of—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt sharply, surprising you both, but you continue on, “I already know what you’re going to say, and I will take it all, all of this, if it means I get to be your friend. Like we’ve said, we’re a team in this. I really wouldn’t want anyone else as my fake fiancé or as my friend.”

A smile pulls at his lips, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You shouldn’t have to take all this, though, you shouldn’t—”

“No, I shouldn’t. But I will.” Your hand has found his free one, and grips it gently.

He turns his hand over instantly, curling his fingers around your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. His smile softens.

“I think the world’s finally gonna see the stubborn pain in the ass I have to deal with.”

You exhale a laugh, and his smile widens at seeing yours.

“Well, it’s only fair others should have to suffer,” you say, shrugging a shoulder.

“You’re right there.” He resumes dabbing at your skin as you look at him.

“How was your day?” you ask quietly after a few silent moments, knowing he’ll just ask how you are if it stretches any longer.

“It was okay.” He’s dabbing at your chin now. “Peg says hi, and that she understands what you’re going through.”

God, you just want to cry all over again.

Your chest warms as you smile. “Really? Maybe I should go on your next visit.”

“I think she’d really like that.” His thumb is still brushing over your knuckles, and you wonder if he realises he’s still doing it. “She knows this isn’t real, though, think she figured it out.”

“Well, I wouldn’t expect anything less. How was Bucky?”

“Fine. He says hello, too.”

“Wow, everyone’s being so kind to me today.”

He arches an eyebrow at you as you laugh, trying to stop himself from doing the same. “I don’t know whether it’s a good sign or not that you’re already joking about this.”

“Humour’s a great coping mechanism, you know that.”

He’s still smiling, but you can see the concern returning, so you quickly continue, taking your hand from his so you can raise a finger, raising your eyebrows, “Well, Doll’ and Bridge’ told me to tell you, by the way, well done, on having me as a fiancée.”

The corners of his mouth lift higher, now reaching his eyes. "Yeah, I know how lucky I am.”

“Oh, and, you proposed to me in our park, by the way.”

He tilts his head as you smile somewhat smugly. “Did I, now?”

“Yeah, under the stars.”

His eyebrows raise as he smiles widely. “Wow, you’re also very lucky, then.”

You wave your hand slightly. “I said a lot of stuff today, I’ll have to fill you in. I made notes.”

He chuckles as he lowers the towel from your face and rises to his feet. “You can show me my homework tomorrow.”

You watch him as he moves to the sink, dropping the towel into it, then raise your hand suddenly. “Oh, there was a dress I actually really liked there, too.”

 “The one you sent me a picture of?”

You freeze, staring at him as he turns to you.

“... What?”

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he moves back towards you, unlocking it, then taps on a couple of things before turning it towards you.

Ohp.

And there you are.

In the vintage style dress, cascading flutter sleeves stopping just below your elbows, tight on your breasts and with a v-neckline, satin gold, your hand on your waist, beaming at your reflection in the gold mirror at The Pearl. 

Ah, now you remember sending it...

“... Yeah, that’s the one.”

“It’s really nice,” he says, sliding his phone back into his pocket as he offers you a hand to get to your feet. “You look great in it.”

Your face heats as you take his hand and get up, shrugging a shoulder and smiling. “Oh, well, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Your hands drop, yours going to your side, his going into the pocket of his jeans. Looking up at him, you give a light smile, which he returns.

“You okay?” he asks softly, and you nod after a moment.

“Yeah. Just so fucking tired,” you say with a slight laugh. “Think I’m just gonna sleep now.”

He nods, his teeth grazing over his lower lip. “That sounds like a good idea. What a fuckin’ day, huh?”

You snort, your eyebrows raising. “Yeah, for both of us.”

He sighs, as if remembering that, oh, yeah, someone had tried to break in, too. “The agents have all gone, now. The place is even more secure, it’s like a fortress.”

“Well, that’s good.”

You head into the bedroom, and he follows you out, moving to the door. He opens it, turning to you, and you share another smile.

“Sure you’re okay?” he asks again, and you bite at your lower lip.

Stay.

You widen your smile. “Yeah. Just very ready for sleep.”

He nods, taps his fingers against the door and smiles. “All right. Goodnight. I’m just down the hall if you need me.”

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

Your smile lingers for a moment as the door closes, then fades as you hear him walk away.

Halfway down the stairs, Steve pauses, his hand on the railing.

He considers turning around.

Going back up the stairs.

Opening your door.

Taking you in his arms again.

After a minute, he carries on down.

In your pyjamas, phone in your hand, you climb into bed, sinking into the soft safeness of it.

You unlock it, finding several messages in the group chat from Dolly and Bridget, asking how you are, saying they’re home safe, that Sam had filled Bridget in and they’d filled Dolly in, that they both hope you’re okay.

You send a message back saying that you are okay, you’re tired, and that you’ll speak to them tomorrow, and you hope they’re okay.

There’s a message from someone else, too.

I’d have a normal life with Aaron.

Where the fuck did that come from?

But you can’t help thinking it.

He’d slipped into your mind when you’d masturbated that morning. You hadn’t wanted to think about it. You’d just imagined him, out of curiosity at first, as he’d posted a photo on Instagram of him at the gym again, just to imagine what he’d be like, you do it with most people to pass the time... and then he’d stayed in your mind.

It had seemed... more real than when you’d imagine Steve. Probably because Steve is your best friend and you shouldn’t be thinking of him that way and you don’t want to ruin what you have, you really don’t, and Aaron... Aaron is the kind of person you could take a chance on.

You feel tears start to prick at your eyes because this is fucked, this is all so fucked, and you love your best friend and you can only think that in it’s entirety without your brain shutting down when you’re drunk or tipsy because it’s the only time your mind is free and you love him, you love him, you love him, you love him...

But there is no fucking way you will ever risk losing him as a friend.

Releasing a long, slightly steadying breath, your eyes remain closed as you take stock.

There’s a dull ache in your head, uncomfortable and constant, the champagne and cocktails betraying you. Your skin still feels strange from where you scrubbed it. And...

Today’s the fucking day.

You’ve been dreading it all week. Shoving it to the back of your mind, despite the seemingly constant reminders from everyone around you.

And you know you’re already irritable, a concoction of hungover irritable, barely any sleep irritable and just fucking plain I hate this shit irritable. You’d tossed and turned all night, going over and over and over in your mind what they could ask. You’d thought about Marise, too, about the car attack, about Steve.

Opening your eyes, you roll onto your back and look up at the ceiling.

Marise.

The paint.

The car attack.

Steve has stalkers.

Someone had tried to break in.

That’s a lot for one gal to take in.

Humour is a good coping mechanism... for now.

I wonder if SHIELD will cover my therapy fees.

You want to laugh, but you no longer find any of this ridiculous or dumb.

And today’s the fucking day.

If you don’t get up, Nat will probably just burst in and get you up.

I wonder how she’s doing with all of this.

You make a mental note to actually ask her, and shove the covers off, slowly pushing yourself up in case your head or stomach protests. Thankfully, neither do, but the ache lingers in your mind.

Padding into the bathroom, you turn the light on and inspect the remnants of the night before.

Your outfit, blue and piled on the floor, the blue-tinged cream towels in the sink, and the smell of the paint that lingers in the air. You kick the outfit aside, not wanting to deal with it right now, and take the towels out of the sink, dropping them down onto the floor, too.

That’s this evening’s problem.

You picture yourself getting in later, the interview over, the day done, and you hold onto it, hold onto that, after today, there’s just two days left. Two days and then it’s all over.

After showering, and trying to get the last, lingering stains of blue off, you dress and step out of your room. You expect there to be a horde of agents again or a PR team or a stylist or someone like that but... it’s quiet.

All you can hear is the gentle sound of a spoon stirring in a mug.

Moving down the stairs, you glance into the kitchen and there’s Steve, dressed in black jeans, a light blue button up tucked into them, his hair perfect.

It’s always fucking perfect.

He meets your gaze as you reach the bottom step and smiles.

“Good morning.”

“Morning,” you answer, a lot less brightly, and slide into one of the stools at the island, resting your chin in your hands.

A corner of his mouth lifts a little higher as he folds his arms, leaning back against the counter. “How’re you feeling?”

You look up and meet his gaze.

He chuckles and nods. “All right, copy that. Can I get you anything?”

Do you really want to eat? You feel a little queasy, hungover-queasy and nervous-about-an-interview queasy, though you don’t want your stomach to rumble throughout the whole thing. Ugh... Maybe just a drink, then.

“I could do with a glass of water.”

“All right. Let’s get you hydrated again.”

You exhale a long breath as he turns and opens a cupboard, pulling a glass out.

“Where is everyone?” you ask after a moment as he fills it with water.

“I told them not to come until 11.”

You glance at the clock on the wall. That gives you about half an hour of peace, then. You smile your gratitude as he places the glass before you, and you take a long drink as he returns to his position, his arms folding across his broad chest once more.

Slightly breathless, you lower the glass and lick your lips, then look back up at him.

You both smile, his easy, yours a little tight.

There’s that awkwardness again... and that feeling that he’s trying to stay up beat and protect you, that you’re fragile and will shatter at a moments notice.

Well... After yesterday...

“How are you feeling?” you ask before he can have the chance to.

He nods, his tongue running behind his teeth. “Fine. Well...”

You pause, watching him.

He sighs and rests his hands against the edge of the counter behind him. “... Same as you’re feeling, I imagine.”

You give a small smile, playing with your hands in your lap. “Absolutely shit, then?”

He chuckles, raising his eyebrows. “Somethin’ along those lines.”

You nod a few times, looking down at your hands before glancing up at him, a wider smile pulling at your lips. “... We could just run away, you know. You’re an expert at being secretive, I’m dying to go on holiday.”

His smile matches yours. “You think we could make it to the airport before anyone notices?”

You pull a faux face of annoyance. “What, you don’t have a private jet?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Well, it’s the least SHIELD could give you.”

He chuckles, his gaze dropping to the ground as you tap your fingers against your glass, you’re smile lingering.

“Are you nervous?” you ask quietly.

He glances up at you, slightly surprised. “Me? Uh... Yeah, a little.”

“Why? You’ve done interviews before, you did those school videos, and you were part of that show in the 40s.”

“Yeah, but—”

“This isn’t any different.”

He blinks slightly, then shrugs. “Yeah, I guess you’re right, I—”

“No,” you interrupt with a sigh, your heart sinking as you close your eyes for a moment before looking at him. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it into some kind of a competition or invalidate how you feel. Or snap. I know this is just as shitty for you.”

He looks at you, the smile returning to his lips. “It’s all right, I get it. At least we’re in this shittiness together, huh?”

You give a smile, wrapping your hands around the glass.

... Except we’re not. I’m the one finding things out last, I’m the one getting abuse and paint thrown at me, I’m the one who... well, all of that pales in comparison to someone wanting to kill him.

Unreasonable. That’s what you’re being.

God, I hate being irritable.

And you’re going to have to spend the next three hours acting like you’re the happiest person in the entire world.

It’s three hours. We’ll be fine.

You don’t fucking feel fine.

In yet another SUV, heading, speeding, more like as Nat’s driving, towards the America Today studio, your stomach is twisting and turning.

I should’ve said I felt sick. Should’ve said yesterday was too much and I can’t cope with today, everyone would have understood.

... Yeah, they would have, and it’s fucking true, you don’t think you can cope with today... but you wouldn’t have been able to forgive yourself. This is the last big chance to find any more suspects.

Suspects, hang on...

Licking your lips, you look at Nat.

“What happened with the person who rammed me and Sam? Where are they?”

“In SHIELDs custody.”

Your eyebrows raise as she doesn’t go on, and you glance at Sam sat beside her. “... So... What’s going on with them, who are they?”

Nat answers. “They’re being interrogated, but they’re not giving up much.”

Sounds like someone I know.

“Are they recognised on any databases, though? Or anything like that?”

Sam shifts in his seat slightly.

“No, they’re not. Not yet.”

You look at her, your stomach sinking. “So...”

It’s Steve who answers this time, your gaze darting to him. “So we might not find out who we’re dealing with and have to rely on guys like the one in custody to give their buddies up and work out the network from there.”

His expression is open and honest, but you wonder how his own words make him feel; that they don’t know the people who want to kill him, that this is a new threat and they might never be able to find them all.

Because it’s made your fucking heart race.

“Right.” Well, I did want honesty. “... Well, guess today’s pretty fucking important then, huh?” you smile, wanting, needing, to lighten the tone.

Steve matches your smile as Nat keeps her eyes on the road and Sam lets out a good-natured chuckle. You glance at Nat.

Yeah, I need to ask her how she’s doing.

The SUV starts to slow and, oh, fuck we’re here. In yet another underground parking lot, I’m sick of these things.

As the guard at the barrier checks Nat’s ID and registers you all, you stare at the back of Sam’s seat. It’s terrifying that they might not know who they’re dealing with, but it’s also the motivation you need to make today go well and smooth and without anyone suspecting anything.

I can do this, I can do this, I can do this...

After you’re waved through, Nat parks on the next level down in a designated space of the quiet, filled lot. As you all get out of the car, Sam the only one staying, there’s the quiet sound of an elevator arriving at the level and the doors sliding open. Heels on concrete echo across the lot and as you round the SUV you’re greeted by the sight of two burly security guards and a beaming woman with brown hair in a tight bun wearing a mint-green pant-suit.

“Good afternoon!” she announces, striding towards you all. “On behalf of America Today, I’d like to welcome you and thank you for choosing us to tell your story!”

You smile automatically as Nat says, “Thanks. Shall we go up?”

She’s already heading towards the elevator and the woman appears briefly flustered before she beams again and gestures for you to follow her. “Of course, everyone’s ready and waiting for you!”

Oh, fuck...

You swallow and your heart pounds against your rib-cage as you all move to the elevator. Then you feel Steve’s hand taking yours, lacing your fingers together. You glance up at him and a corner of his mouth lifts in a small smile which you manage to return.

Right, happy couple.

Or did he do that to comfort me.

I don’t know anymore.

There’s space for you all in the large elevator, you and Steve standing in the middle, your hands still linked, and the woman, Maeve, she introduces herself as, rattles on about there being a small buffet set up if you’re hungry with any kind of drink that you want, to let her know if you need anything, they can run out and get anything, anything at all, everyone’s so happy and excited, this is going to be such a big and historic day and...

As she goes on and on, you stare at the back of one of the security guards, trying to keep your breathing under control. You wouldn’t be surprised if they could all hear your heart. You feel like you can, it pounding in your ears.

You don’t realise that if Steve was an average man, your grip would be considered uncomfortably tight. Instead, he just keeps ahold of your hand, glancing at you, his jaw moving.

He hates that he can’t say anything to comfort you. Then he thinks, hang on...

The elevator slows to a halt, and the doors open. People walk about, talking on phones, talking to each other, you can hear other people calling to each other, the sound of equipment moving. Stepping out of the elevator behind the security guard, you realise you’re on a set, a horde of cameras to the right, obscuring what must be where the interview will be, to the left is a small foyer area and four doors leading into other rooms.

“Righty...” Maeve says as she turns to you all, still beaming. “Steve, if you could follow me, Y/N, Emma here will help you get ready.”

Hang on, what...

Steve’s hand leaves yours as Maeve gestures for him to follow and a woman with a warm smile and short, black, coiled hair approaches. You turn to Steve to give a small smile and maybe crack a joke about never seeing him again, when his hand lifts and settles on the back of your neck. Blinking, you don’t move as he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“See you in a minute, sweetheart,” he says as he draws back with an easy smile, his hand dropping and his eyes twinkling, and all you can do is stare at those fucking broad shoulders as he follows after Maeve because, what.

...

...

... uh...

Your brain might have actually disappeared. 

Happy couple.

Or did he do that to comfort me.

I. Don’t. Know. Any. More.

Emma clears her throat quietly and your gaze darts to her as Nat says, “Y/N.”

“Sorry, what?” Your gaze now darts to Nat, who stands with her arms folded, an eyebrow raised and... oh, no. A faint smirk on her lips.

“Go with Emma.”

Your face warm, you nod and look to her, smiling widely as she does the same. “Sorry, yes, lead the way.”

Hoping she’ll just chalk your moment there down to love-sickness, you follow after her as she takes you to one of the doors.

“How are you doing?” she says as she opens the door for you, letting you go in first, and you raise your eyebrows slightly as you consider the question.

I can be nervous. I can show that I’m nervous. Real fiancée or not, I can be nervous.

“I’m pretty nervous, actually.”

You take a seat in the closest comfortable-looking chair facing a large mirror as she closes the door, and it muffles the sounds of the set.

Thank God.

She smiles empathetically as she opens one of the many bags on the table under the mirror and searches through it, meeting your gaze in the reflection. “I can imagine it is. That’s perfectly normal, though, and everyone here just wants you to be comfortable.”

Everyone but my own brain.

You just return her smile, though, clasping your hands together on your lap. “That’s comforting. How are you?”

Her smile brightens. “I’m fine, thank you, I’m excited. I’ve always been a Cap’ fan, and it’s nice to meet you, too.” Emma’s smile falters a little as her features soften. “I’m so sorry to hear about what happened yesterday.”

As she starts to apply foundation to your face, your gaze shifts to the mirror, looking at yourself. Even you can tell your demeanour changes slightly at the memory. “Thank you.”

The brush on your skin is gentle and light as she blends the foundation in. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you feel that everyone hates you, but I can tell you that’s not true.”

You glance at her in the reflection, quiet.

She sighs softly, leaning back and meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Oh, girl... The world doesn’t hate you, all right? My friends and I were talking about it this morning, hoping you’d be okay and know that that was just one person’s feelings... and from what I’ve read, she’s not exactly... stable.”

As she resumes brushing the foundation on, moving down to blend it into your neck where you know there’s still some patches of faint blue, you swallow hard because 1) you’re hungover and therefore more sensitive than usual, and 2) you forgot how kind people can be.

One negative, albeit horrible, experience has made you forget that.

“Yeah, but, you know... It’s the classic thing of you can hear nice things but you focus on the bad,” you murmur, your hands twisting together in your lap.

“I know. I’m not gonna name-drop but I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had people, people who would surprise you, sit in this very chair and think that the whole world hates them after hearing just a couple of bad things.”

You look at her as she straightens and roots through another bag. Part of you thinks you shouldn’t trust her, shouldn’t be telling her these things because she works for the studio and could tell someone and then it’d be a whole news story that you wouldn’t be able to escape and... But, no. Your feelings are right on this one, and you trust her.

She pulls out a small box of powder and takes another brush, starting to swipe it onto your skin. “My friends and I are huge fans of yours, anyway.”

You exhale a faint laugh as your eyebrows raise. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she beams, brushing at your jaw. “I know we don’t know you, but, I don’t know, we just like you.”

“Well, thanks,” you say with a smile, even though that makes you feel a little strange.

“You’ve got some people in your corner, don’t worry,” Emma nods, straightening up. “Now...” Placing the powder and brush down, she places her hands on her hips. “... Can I do a little eyeshadow?”

“Sure, why not.”

At this moment in time, you’d let her do anything because she’s just so bloody nice.

And maybe it’ll make me look more alive.

You close your eyes as Emma chats away about a TV show she’s been watching, and it’s a nice distraction. For a little while you can pretend you’re having your make-up done and that’s all. She even gives you a head massage, files your nails and paints a clear polish over them, and brushes your outfit down with a lint-roller.

Of course, it doesn’t last long, though.

“... and there we go,” she announces as she stands back, and you open your eyes and look at yourself in the mirror.

Your skin looks smooth, there’s a little blush on your cheeks, she’s swept some eyeshadow over your lids that compliments your eye colour, added a little mascara and eye-liner, and, most importantly, there’s absolutely no blue paint to be seen.

I definitely look more alive.

Looking up at her, the corners of your mouth lift in gratitude. “Thank you, Emma, I look great.”

“Ah, you looked great before, I just added to it.”

As you rise out of the seat, she returns to the door and opens it, holding it for you. “I want you to remember what I said, all right? There are people in your corner.”

Your smile widens as you nod, crossing the room. “I’ll remember it. Thank you so much.”

She inclines her head with a beam. “Don’t worry about it, you’re gonna do great.”

Fuck, I hope so.

The noise of the set returns as you pass through the door, and all your anxieties come flooding back.

Don’t. There are people in your corner.

Nat stands outside the room, her hands clasped together. Turning to you as she hears you and Emma, her lips lift. “Hey, you look good. You want something to eat?”

You had in fact had a little something to eat back at the penthouse, Sam and Nat having arrived at 11 on the dot with a huge box of pastries, and the four of you had sat tearing into them for about half an hour as Sam had gone on about how Christmas shopping got more and more difficult every year, and then you’d gone over potential interview questions.

The thought of eating now, though, just makes you feel queasy. Shaking your head, you join her at her side, folding your arms, almost hugging yourself.

“No, thanks.”

“You want a drink?”

“No, thanks.”

“You wanna get out of here?”

You glance at her, a faint smile on her lips, and you exhale a breath, your own lips twitching a little. “Nah. Steve and I talked about running away this morning already, but we reasoned it’d just be too much of a hassle.”

“Ah, that’s sensible.”

“Yeah, annoyingly.” 

Nodding at the nearby couch, she moves to it. “Come on, let’s sit down. Gotta rest my legs while I can.”

Sitting beside her, you finally seize your chance. “So, how’re you doing?”

“I’m fine, thanks, how are you?”

“No, I mean, how are you really?”

Nat side-eyes you, an eyebrow arching a fraction. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, but really—”

“Y/N!”

Fucking hell.

Jolting, you look up to find Maeve beaming down at you.

“Wow! Look at you! Emma’s great, isn’t she? Would you like something to drink?”

“Uh, yeah, she is. And, no, thank you.”

“All right, can I get you anything at all?”

She’s just doing her job, she’s just doing her job, she’s just doing her job...

“No, thank you.”

“Oke doke, let me know if you do, I’m just gonna see how Megan’s doing.” With another wide beam, she’s then trotting off to the set.

“Who’s Megan?” you murmur to Nat.

Nat inspects the nails on one hand idly. “The interviewer.”

“Oh.”

Because I’m here to do an interview, that’s right.

“You’re gonna be fine.” It’s like she can read your mind.

Glancing at her, you blow out a breath, looking down at your hands. “I just can’t wait for today to be over.”

“I know. It’s just a twenty minute interview, it’ll be over before you know it.”

Your gaze darts back to her. “What? I thought it was an hour?”

A corner of her mouth twitches. “It was. But then they wouldn’t tell me what they were gonna ask so I cut it down. It means essential questions only.”

I love you.

Your smile widening a little, you nod. “All right, I think I can handle that.”

“Good.” Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she taps on a message, answering swiftly.

Looking down at her phone before quickly looking away before you see anything you’re not meant to, you lick your lips. “... So how’s it going outside?”

“Fine.”

“Is there a big crowd?”

“Yeah.”

“The biggest this week?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Yeah.” She puts her phone away, her arms folding across her chest. “Means there’ll be better cover for anyone wanting to blend in. We’ve got plenty of agents on site, too.”

“Well... That is good.”

She’s about to reply when she looks beyond you and raises her eyebrows. “God, you took your time.”

Turning your head, you pause as you see Steve approaching.

“Sorry, I was signing a few things, filming a few birthday messages, you know...” He looks sheepish and you smile quickly to console him, even as your stomach flutters.

You kissed me.

Technically.

Looking between you both, he returns your smile. “You look nice.”

“Thank you, so do you,” you answer automatically, even though he looks exactly the same because his skin is always smooth anyway and his hair’s always perfect and he’s always fucking gorgeous—

Slow down, stop it.

He opens his mouth when Maeve suddenly appears, again.

“Look at you both! Wonderful! Now, there’s about five minutes to go, so if you’d like to follow me, Megan’s ready, too.”

Five minutes.

You take a breath as you push yourself up, meeting Steve’s gaze. He smiles lightly, almost secretively, then holds out his hand to you.

A fucking life-line.

Sliding your hand into his, you return his smile as he squeezes it gently. Then, you both turn and follow after Maeve.

Nearing the set, your heart is pounding again, your eyes darting about, watching the crew set up and laugh and chat together.

It’s live.

It’s gonna be fucking live.

And I have to convince these people and the world that I’m happily engaged.

“Megan?” Maeve steps away a little as you round one of the cameras, and there the set is.

There’s a large Persian carpet in the centre with a small glass table on it, with three bottles of Fiji water, and three grey, fabric armchairs, one on the left side of the table, two on the other, and a few potted plants. The large window behind it provides the back drop and lighting, though there’s plenty of lights beside the cameras, too, and you can already feel the warmth of them. You suspect this isn’t where they’d usually conduct interviews like this; Nat had probably requested they do it here and this has been thrown together.

The interviewer, Megan Owens, smiles gracefully as she rises from her seat at Maeve’s voice. She’s dressed in a light blue, sleeveless dress with a red belt, coiffed, chestnut hair, and a radiant white smile, and you steel yourself.

 Steve’s hand leaves yours as she extends her hand to him, and he takes it. 

“Captain Rogers, it’s an honour to meet you,” she enthuses, her voice honey-warm.

“Just Steve is fine,” he insists as he shakes her hand with a smile, “It’s nice to meet you, too, Megan.”

If her perfect beam could have gotten any wider it would have as she simpers, “The pleasure is all mine.” Dropping his hand, her gaze then turns to you, her beam fixed in place. “Oh, and you must be Y/N.”

Duh.

“Hello,” you say brightly as you shake her hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Who am I.

“And lovely to meet you, too.” She shakes your hand lightly before pulling her hand back and raising it, gesturing at the studio. “What an honour it is to have you both here, thank you so much for choosing America Today for the interview, we’re so honoured, really.”

“It’s nothing,” Steve answers, surprising you by his hand returning to yours, lacing your fingers together.

Oh.

Megan gestures at the two grey chairs that are side-by-side. “Please, take a seat, you there, Y/N, and you there, Steve. Get comfortable.”

Hilarious.

As you sit, you in the one closest the window, Steve the one closest to the camera, you clasp your hands together in your lap without thinking.

Megan smiles at you as she crosses her legs. “I take it this is your first ever interview, Y/N.”

Your eyebrows rise as you manage a smile. “What gave it away?”

She laughs lightly as a man appears to smooth down her already perfect hair. “Oh, nothing, we just didn’t find any interviews in our research.”

You feel strange again, and try not to think about strangers searching you on the internet. Two women appear to mic you all up, and Megan continues as if they’re not there. “You’ll be fine. I suppose you can imagine what I’ll ask and the answers will just be about you or Steve so it’ll be nice and easy.”

Oh, I wish.

The woman finishes adjusting your mic and moves away, and you watch the other woman fit a device to Megan’s ear. So the producers can communicate with her, probably. They’ll be sat in a room somewhere, watching, excited. You’re surprised you haven’t met them, then again maybe it’s Nat’s doing. Maybe she’s tried to keep it as underwhelming as possible.

Nice try, but I’m still overwhelmed.

Another woman’s voice suddenly sounds from behind one of the many cameras as the mic woman moves off the set, and your gaze darts over automatically to find the source. “All right, everyone, quiet on set! Megan, you’re on in 5, 4—”

Silence descends. Your eyes dart back to Megan as your mouth dries and your stomach flips and you feel hot.

“ — 3—”

Suddenly, Steve’s hand finds yours in your lap and you grip his tightly, not caring if it’s for comfort or for show.

“— 2...”

Megan tilts her head as she looks into a camera, her hands folded on her lap. “Thank you, Andy and Jean, and good afternoon to you, America, and the world. Here with me today is a couple that needs no introduction. All week, right around the world, we’ve all been discussing them and their upcoming wedding, and now, in an exclusive interview, they’re here with us today to tell us the truth and details in all the speculation.” She looks to you both, her smile widening. “Steve and Y/N, thank you so much for joining us.”

“Thank you for having us,” Steve says as you just smile, hoping to whoever’s listening that you look relaxed.

“I’ll start with what we’ve all been dying to know, how did you two meet?”

Oh, fuck, I’m gonna have to take the lead on this one—

“Well,” Steve begins and God, thank you, “after I finished my rehabilitation with SHIELD, I wanted to find a place of my own for some sense of normality, and I wanted to be closer to the Triskelion, so I moved here and I ended up moving into the same building that Y/N would happen to.”

He’s told this story before, it’s nothing new, so you feel yourself relaxing a little... Except he glances at you, and you know in that split-second he’s judging whether you want him to carry on or whether you want to talk.

Well, I can’t just sit here like a lemon.

This is easy, you know this.

“I moved here after accepting a job offer and just took the first apartment I could,” you say, your voice mercifully steady, looking to Megan with a smile. “The landlord just happened to leave out that Captain America would be my neighbour.” 

You’re bolstered suddenly by the surprising sound of quiet laughter from some of the crew.

Megan laughs, too, though hers seems to be more out of politeness. “So no pressure, huh?”

It’s your turn to laugh politely. “No, not at all. But I still didn’t know that when the evening I moved in I did what any good neighbour would do and I knocked on his door to introduce myself.” There’s more quiet laughter again, okay, I’m doing okay. “And he was very polite and kind as I just stared at him for about a minute thinking I’d lost my mind.”

That’s true... Except you leave out the part where you’d babbled in introducing yourself and had practically given him your whole life story out of nerves and embarrassment and just plain not being able to be quiet. He’d listened attentively the whole time and had even asked you, having gently cut off one of your ramblings, if you wanted to come in and sit down.

You’d said no, in horror, before quickly back-pedalling your tone and saying that you just didn’t want to disturb him.

He’d given you that smile and said you weren’t disturbing him at all.

The memory makes your stomach flutter.

“So, you two became friends after that, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve answers, “We just kept bumping into each other and then during one conversation we realised we were both classic film fans so we decided to watch one that was on TV that night together and then it became a weekly thing, and then we were going out for walks, having dinner together and just enjoying each others company.”

... Well, that’s not wrong.

“When did you two realise you were in love?”

You’re prepared for this but it still makes your stomach flip as you take the lead. “I think we just knew, you know? We spent a lot of time together and felt something change and now... here we are.”

You’d all agreed you couldn’t make every answer detailed, so you’re very pleased that you’d decided to make this one vague.

Megan smiles and hums in agreement before her gaze shifts to Steve as her smile widens. “Now, go on, Steve, what is it about Y/N that made you fall in love with her?”

Your breath catches in your throat slightly and Steve releases a polite laugh.

Oh my God, we didn’t prepare for this.

Remembering you’re on camera, your fixed smile widens a little more as you make yourself look at Steve. He glances at you, his eyebrows raising with a smile, before he looks to Megan.

“Well, as Y/N said, sometimes you just know, and who can explain love, right?” Megan hums in agreement. “... But,” Steve continues, his gaze returning to you, “... I think it was her empathy and kindness, her sense of humour, the fact we can talk about absolutely anything until about 2AM, and... just how easy it is to be with her, really.”

You can’t look away from him, your lips slightly parted, your face warm, and he’s not looking away either.

“And what about you, Y/N?”

You blink and look at her, before back to Steve. “Well, I, I would say it’s how comfortable he makes me feel. I can always be myself around him and I don’t feel judged, and he makes me feel valued.” Your smile softens as you look at him. “It’s so easy to be with him, too, there’s honestly no one else I’d rather spend the rest of my life with.”

Oh. Oh, no .

That last part just slips out, but that’s fine, that’s absolutely fine because you’re meant to be in love, that’s fine.

Looking away, your face so fucking hot, you smile at Megan, who looks suitably charmed. 

“That’s so lovely. What do you do for work, Y/N?”

Right, this is an easy one, that’s good.

“I work at June & Mayflower Publishing, I’m the Head of Marketing for the branch here in D.C.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Oh, I love it. I’m very lucky to have such great colleagues, too.”

And they’re probably screaming, ‘you’re damn right’, at the TV in the staff-room right now.

“And how do you feel when Steve has to go away for work, Y/N?”

Oh, fuck.

This was something you’d never, ever spoken about, either of you. You’d never told him that it’s always there in the back of your mind when he’s away that he could be hurt, could be captured, could die. How can you say that now, though? On live television and in front of him?

Keep it light, Nat had said when you’d discussed the probability of any difficult questions.

Smiling, my God, my cheeks hurt, you shrug slightly. “I know what I signed up for. His sense of duty and honour is one of the things I love about him, too. Yes, it can be hard being away from each other, sometimes for several weeks, but Dolly always says—”

“Dolly?” Megan interrupts gently.

Your smile is easy now as you nod. “Oh, sorry, my friend Dolly.”

“That’s a lovely name.“

“Yeah, her parents are huge Dolly Parton fans, which, who isn’t, she’s an icon, so they named her after her.”

Megan laughs, and it feels real. “Yes, she is an icon. But do excuse me, please continue.”

“Well, Dolly always says that if it’s right for you and something you really want, then it’ll work out, and Steve and I have and do make it work.”

You feel him squeeze your hand gently as you nod, and you assume it’s to tell you you gave a great answer.

Megan nods. “Well, absolutely, Dolly’s right.”

You all laugh politely, and then Megan’s smile is replaced by a gently sympathetic expression. 

“Now, there was an incident last night at the The Venue, wasn’t there. what happened?”

You have to suppress a sigh. “Oh, I was there having a few drinks with two friends, one of them Dolly, the other Bridget, and someone threw paint on me.”

“Paint?” Megan responds with a tone of quiet shock, though you all know she already knew that.

“Yeah, blue paint.”

... For some reason, you’re smiling... maybe because fuck this, you can’t be bothered to spin a sob story.

There are people in your corner.

“I looked like a member of the Blue Man Group.”

Megan laughs, as do some of the crew, and Steve chuckles, and you feel a weight lift from your shoulders.

If I laugh, they haven’t won. In fact...

Waiting for Megan’s laugh to finish, you start to speak before she can. 

“In all seriousness, though, I think what happened last night displays an issue we have in our society about how we treat people that we put on a pedestal, the people we consider celebrities. The way we’ve been hounded this week, it’s not healthy for anyone. I’ve had things shouted at me, and thrown at me, from people who don’t even know me but feel entitled to expressing an opinion that they believe is fact, formed from what strangers have written in papers and online and their own assumptions. They don’t know me or Steve, they’re assuming, and as last night showed that can be so dangerous, in fact history has shown it does get dangerous. There’s an obsession that people develop with celebrities that we have to ask ourselves how and why it gets to that point and who’s enabling them, because people have this sense of ownership over people they don’t even know and it’s not right.”

You kept your eyes on Megan as you spoke, so you don’t see the way Steve’s been looking at you.

With pride.

Megan looks quietly impressed, her eyebrows raising a little as she nods. “Wow, there certainly is a discussion to be had there. We’ll have to get you back for that one another time.”

“I’d love to.” You smile and incline your head, finding that you actually would.

“For now, though, you’re both going to be attending the Stark Christmas Party tomorrow night, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Steve takes over, and his hand is still held in both of yours, “We’re both really looking forward to it, it’s been a while since I’ve been to New York.”

“Will it be your first time at the Tower and meeting the Avengers, Y/N?”

“Uh, yes, it’ll be my first time there, and, yes, I suppose so, with all of them together.”

Oh my God, I haven’t even thought about that.

“What a sight that’ll be,” Megan gushes, “Will you be considering the Tower as a venue?”

You glance at Steve, watching his lips twitch. “Ah, no, no, we will not.”

You recall Nat having told you Steve had called it ‘ugly’ right in front of Tony.

“Are you looking for somewhere in Washington, then?”

“Yeah, we both like it here, and it means a lot to us ‘cause it’s where we met, so.” His hand squeezes yours and you look up at him, matching his soft smile.

We’re both acing this looking in love thing.

“Of course. And as for the dress, Y/N...?” She trails off with an expectant smile, and you feign a coy one as you look at her. 

“Oh, I can’t speak too much about that, we all like a surprise.”

Don’t we bloody just.

“Oh, how unfair, I guess we’ll all just have to wait for the big day, then,” she laughs. “You were spotted at The Pearl, though...?”

“Yeah, I have been trying some dresses from there, and it’s such a lovely place, the staff are absolutely wonderful, I can’t praise them highly enough.” You smile widely, delighted you could give Sally and the assistants a shout-out. “Oh, and they have just as many dresses and suits in-store for those who are considered ‘plus-sized’ so I can’t recommend them highly enough.”

“Ah, yes, a story got out yesterday about you having to leave a store that didn’t cater, is that true?”

Your lips twitch at the memory. “Yes, it is, which is such a shame because from a business point of view they’re really missing out, and it just makes them look like idiots, to be honest.”

If Megan’s shocked at that she hides it well, and just nods. “Quite right. Well, The Pearl had better be ready for plenty of clients now,” she smiles, raising her eyebrows. 

Then, she tilts her head and clasps her hands together on her lap. “Now, and I suppose this follows on from what you were saying about, as you say, people making assumptions, earlier today we did an interview with a co-worker and an old flame of yours.”

You freeze.

“Really?”

Megan nods and points towards where the cameras are. “For our audience, it’ll be airing later today, although it’s up on our website now, but if you could just both watch that screen, I’d be interested to hear what you have to say.”

You feel cold all of a sudden as you look at a TV screen, knowing the world is going to watch you watch your ex-boyfriend and whatever the fuck he has to say.

The screen goes from black to a clip of Joe, in a white button-up and navy tie, hands clasped together on his crossed legs, loose, relaxed, in his element, sitting across from Megan in what looks like a nicer room than this one.

He’s obviously just been asked a question because Joe takes in a breath as he looks up, considering his answer. Smiling almost sympathetically, he looks back to Megan.

“Y/N’s great, she really is. She’s really smart and a lot of fun, she was an absolute sweetheart... but she was quite insecure when we were together. She was quite quiet, and didn’t have much confidence, you know? She was always doubting herself and her work, and I tried to be there for her as much as I could, but there’s only so much you can do. She liked to be with her friends a lot and I just... I got a great job opportunity and had to do what was best for both of us, so I ended it.”

The clip pauses, but you remain staring at the screen, a surge of rage coiling within you.

“That’s classy,” you mutter.

Except you don’t mutter it, because it’s picked up by the microphone and everyone on the planet and universe will have heard it along with everything your ex has just said.

Megan’s eyebrows raise as she looks at you. “Classy?”

You look at her.

Fuck you, Joe.

Licking your lips, you shrug. “If I was all those things or came across that way it’s because that’s how Joe made me feel. He certainly didn’t make me feel happy, or satisfied.” You hear some quiet gasps and laughter. “It’s nice to now be with someone who makes me feel good about myself, despite and because of who I am.” Looking at him, your other hand now covers Steve’s. “He sees all of me and he still loves me.”

“Yes, I do,” he answers without missing a beat, without pausing.

Your breath catches in your throat as your stomach flutters. You hold each others gaze as Megan hums, and it’s only when she speaks that you both finally look away.

“That’s wonderful, that really is. So, I take it you disagree with everything Joe said?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“He went on to suggest, as some people have, that you might be using Steve to further your career, what do you say to that?”

You feel Steve stiffen beside you but you just laugh. “Further my career? In publishing?” You look at him with a grin. “I didn’t know you had any pull in the publishing world.”

A smile blossoms across his features as he chuckles. “What can I say, you gotta have some secrets in a relationship.”

You laugh, the tightness in you chest gone, and as it fades you look back to Megan. “Look, I’m very happy where I am, for now I don’t want to progress any higher. I think it’s Joe who wants to further his career here.”

Despite your laughter, she seems to sense the rage that’s gently simmering in you and nods and smiles brightly. “Well, just one more question, then... When’s the big day?”

Steve answers this time. “We’ll be announcing that very shortly, not much longer to wait, I promise.”

Yeah, two days and then you’ll all find out.

Megan tuts good-naturedly, her smile still fixed in place. “I guess we’ll just have to trust you! And, unfortunately, that’s all we have time for.” Tilting her head, she raises her hands slightly. “Thank you once again for joining us, it’s been an absolute pleasure, and on behalf of everyone at America Today we wish you the warmest of congratulations.”

“Thank you very much,” Steve says as you force a smile, and Megan looks into a camera.

You stare at Megan because she doesn’t say anything else, and then the woman from earlier calls out, “And cut! Thank you, everyone!”

Voices erupt as people call out to one another and some people even clap. Looking up to try and find them, you just smile slightly, and then Megan’s rising out of her seat.

“You both did great,” she says as a woman rushes over to remove her earpiece and her mic. “And, Y/N...” You raise your eyebrows slightly, and she gives a light smile. “... Not bad for your first time.”

You feel yourself relax a little as someone else removes your mic and then Steve’s.

Steve.

Looking to him, he’s looking at the woman removing the mic, smiling and nodding his thanks before she moves away. Then he’s looking at you

His hand is still in yours.

He smiles softly, and you return it.

“Steve! Y/N!”

Oh, Maeve, you’re so good at your job but please leave us alone.

You both look up at her, beaming at you as always.

“That was fantastic! Can we just get a photo of you both and Megan?”

Nodding, slightly dazed because it’s over, it’s over, it’s over, you stand and Steve’s hand slips out of yours. Clearing your throat, you move down the set where Megan’s talking to who you assume is the woman who called out, possibly the director. 

Her beam is back in place as she turns to you and stands between you and Steve. You just stare at Maeve’s phone and smile whenever she takes a photo of you three, and she takes several. Three people, two women and a man, come out of another room, and they’re introduced as the producers, and you shake their hands and say hello and receive their thanks and congratulations, and then you take a few photos with them as they thank you over and over again and say how great it was.

Then, thankfully, Nat’s there, talking over Maeve and thanking her and everyone and ushering you and Steve towards the elevator.

Oh my God, we get to go home now.

That was it.

The hardest thing is done.

You’ve done it.

You’ve done it.

Getting into the elevator, you feel lighter than you have in days, a breath leaving you. The doors slide shut, Maeve and the two security guards in there with you again as Maeve has insisted on seeing you down.

Looking at the doors, you don’t realise there’s a small smile on your lips.

Steve glances at you, and give a small smile of his own.

Then, you feel his hand on your back, rubbing gently. Looking up at him, you share your small, relieved, secretive smile, and you can’t stop your cheeks from warming. Looking away, your teeth grazing over your lower lip, you don’t notice him watching the movement.

The elevator slows to a halt, it chimes, and the doors slide open. As you step out, you spot Sam leaning against the SUV and give him a beam and a wave. He grins and gives you a thumbs up.

Turning to Maeve and the security guards, you, Nat and Steve take turns shaking her hand.

“Thank you so much, really,” she gushes, and, all right, she’s won you over and you’re beaming now. “This was such an incredible day for me, I’m so happy I could look after you and I hope you’ve had a good time.”

Why not.

“We did, Maeve,” you say before either Nat or Steve can answer, and you tilt your head. “Would you like a photo with us?”

Her mouth opens but nothing comes out, and then she’s scrabbling for her phone in her pocket. “Well, I, I wasn’t going to ask, it’s not professional and I’m not really allowed, but seeing as you offered I would absolutely love to.”

Catching Steve’s eye, grinning, you stand by Maeve’s side as Nat takes her phone and lifts it, her lips pressed together.

“All right, ready...”

Maeve’s arms go around you and Steve and she beams at the camera.

Nat taps the screen a few times before lowering the phone and stepping forward, handing it back to her. “There you go.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” she says, almost hugging her phone to her chest. “That’s so kind, thank you.”

As you go to say your goodbyes, you hear the elevator chime again, signalling it’s arrived, and out of instinct you glance over her shoulder to see who it is. The doors slide open and Joe—

Joe steps out with a man in a suit, laughing at something he just said.

You stare at him.

Why is he still here.

Oh... He must be doing other interviews.

... Pure rage surges within you once more.

You don’t hear Steve saying your name as you stride past Maeve towards him. Upon hearing your name, Joe lifts his head, his eyes land on you, and they widen.

“Oh, hey—”

Your hands slam against his chest, gripping the front of his jacket, and you shove him back, pushing him against the wall beside the elevator.

“Why the fuck did you do that, Joe?!” you hiss, “Who the fuck do you think you are?!”

You don’t see it, but Steve, having stepped forward, puts an arm out, halting the security guards and the man with Joe from going to his aid.

Joe stammers as he looks behind you for help, then back to you. “L-Look, I’m, I’m sorry, okay, but I don’t think I said anything that wasn’t truthful—”

“Really?!” You don’t realise you’re practically yelling. “You humiliated me, you told the whole world my insecurities like it was nothing, like you had the right to.  You’re a fucking asshole, you always have been, and you didn’t deserve me.”

Releasing him, you step back, your breaths coming quickly, your jaw tight. You go to turn away when he quickly says, “I needed the money, Y/N.”

You scoff as you turn back to him, watching him straighten his jacket. “No, you don’t, Joe, you’re a manager—”

“I lost my job.”

You stare at him, your brow dipping. “What?”

He swallows, one hand going into his pocket, the other playing with his tie. “I was fired. A month ago. I moved back here to stay with a friend and find a new job. Yvette wouldn’t give me my old one back, so...”

You shake your head, your eyebrows raising in incredulity. “So, instead of finding another job, you went on television and humiliated your ex-girlfriend?”

“No, I, well, I didn’t mean to...” He trails off, looking at you helplessly, wanting you to give him an out, the benefit of the doubt, throw him a life-line, like you used to.

Your tongue running over your teeth, you shake your head. “You’re a fucking asshole, Joe.”

Turning away, you smile tightly at Maeve, and say as you pass, “Thank you so much, really, you’ve been great.”

You don’t hear her reply as you carry on striding across the lot, Steve right behind you. Sam gives you a gentle smile and opens the door for you so you can climb straight in. Sitting back, you secure your seat-belt as Nat, Sam and Steve slide into their own seats.

No one speaks as Nat drives to the barrier, and then you’re waved out and onto the main roads.

You’re glad you said that to Joe. So relieved. It’s like a weight off your fucking shoulders, everything you should have said when he dumped you.

But you’re so fucking mad. Fucking livid... at everything. Maybe it’s the hangover. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep. Maybe it’s the fucking week. All three is a deadly combination. You don’t care about peoples opinions, you don’t, you try very hard to not pay attention to them or let them get to you and you succeed most times, but Joe has presented an image of you to the world that isn’t you, that you can’t control, and... It’s like the last straw on top of a lot of last straws.

You realise, then.

Even when this is supposedly over, it won’t be. People will still know who you are. You’ll still be Steve’s friend, his neighbour. People will still have an opinion of you. People will still be able to make an assumption about you, scream things at you, throw things at you.

And you thought you’d done well in the interview, but depending on what people want to believe, Joe could have undone all of that.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Nat says suddenly, “I didn’t know they had interviewed Joe, they fucked us over.”

“It’s not your fault, Nat. You’re the one keeping this fucking thing together, you’re doing your best, you all are.”

"You are, too.”

You lift your gaze to Steve. You make yourself take a breath and exhale it as he smiles, and you return it but it’s an effort.

What will we be like after this.

Stop it.

God, I hate hungover, irritable me.

You’d said the night before that you would take all of this if it meant you got to be his friend. And you still would.

So you widen your smile and exhale another breath.

His own features relax as he nods slightly, maybe understanding a little.

“... Man, I was really hopin’ you were gonna knock that guy out,” Sam says, and you glance over at him.

Then, you burst out laughing.

Steve chuckles as Sam looks back at you, his eyes wide. “I’m being serious, I was just waitin’ for it, we can turn around if you like? Finish the little rat off?”

“No,” you insist through your laughter, “As tempting as that is, I just want to get back and nap this hangover off.”

“You sure? I’ll be your second?” Steve chimes in.

“No.” You’re grinning, even as you narrow your eyes at him. “Yelling let me get it all out.”

“All right, all right...” Sam grumbles good-naturedly, then reaches into his jacket. “Here’s your phone, by the way.”

Sam had offered to keep it in the car for you so it’d be one less thing for you to worry and you accept it with a nod.

“Thank you very much.”

Unlocking it, there’s messages from Bridget, Dolly and Aaron, all having responded to things while watching it, and all ended by saying what an asshole Joe is. You spend the rest of the drive replying to them, telling them you’re okay and just looking to have a quiet night in. 

You pause before locking it, then you message Yvette, asking if she knew Joe had been fired.

She replies within seconds.

Incompetence. Ha, sounds right.

You tell her not to worry, that you miss her, and thank her.

Smiling, you lock your phone just as you arrive back at the penthouse. Leaning over his seat, you hug Sam goodbye, then get out with Steve and Nat, the latter only wanting to go with you up to your door. In the elevator, she leans against the back of it and folds her arms. 

“So, how do we feel?”

You and Steve nod in unison, and both say;

“Yeah, good.”

“Fine.”

She nods, her lips twitching slightly. “Good. I think we’re all relieved that’s over. And I’m sorry again about what happened, Y/N, I’m gonna call them later and yell at them.”

“It’s fine, really,” you answer with a slight shrug. “I get they needed to make a story and make it exciting. I’m okay, really. I’m glad I got to do some yelling myself.”

Nat’s lips lift. “Yeah, that must have been very cathartic.”

You can’t stop a smile. “It was.”

The elevator slows to a halt and the doors slide open. She waits until Steve opens the door and she knows everything’s okay inside before she leaves, waving you off and saying she’ll message you later.

You close the door, kick your shoes off, and head down the short hallway, and pause, looking at Steve stood in the living room, his hands in his pockets, a gentle smile on his lips.

“So.”

“So...” you answer, your own smile widening.

He inhales a breath, his eyebrows raising a little. “Thank God that’s over.”

“Yeah.” You fold your arms as you move closer. “It was okay, though, wasn’t it? We did okay, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, I’d say we did. More than okay, actually.” He lifts a hand out of his pocket and gestures at you. “You were great.”

You scoff, shaking your head slightly, only a step or so away now. “Me? What about you, when she hit us with the ‘what made you fall in love’ curveball you were great, you said some really good stuff.”

He shrugs slightly. “Well, they are the things I do like about you, so.”

You look at him, your stomach fluttering and your breath catching in your throat and your lips parting and your heart beating faster and, oh.

His gaze is lingering on you, and he watches your tongue wet your lips.

“Oh.... Well... What I said is what I like about you, too,” you say quietly, watching him.

There’s a pause. Then, he takes a step closer, opens his mouth and—

The sound of his phone ringing makes you jerk and his lips press together, his jaw tight. Clearing your throat as he slides his phone out of his pocket, and he glances from it to you.

“I’m sorry, it’s Buck, I gotta take this—”

“No, no, that’s absolutely fine, take it—”

“You sure? I can—”

“No, take it, it’s fine.” You’re smiling far too widely as you head for the stairs. “I’m gonna take a nap, anyway. Say hello from me!”

“Yeah, I will do.”

You fix your gaze ahead, moving swiftly up the stairs, and he keeps his eyes on you as he accepts the call and raises his phone to his ear.

“You have impeccable fuckin’ timing...” he mutters into it as you disappear into your room and close the door, his gaze finally dropping.

After washing your face and changing into more comfortable clothes, you’d closed the curtains and climbed into bed, groaning with relief.

You’d fallen asleep almost instantly, your body and mind delighted to now be able to rest undisturbed. You hadn’t set an alarm so you sleep for a few hours, and by the time you awaken, it’s already getting dark. Hungry and thirsty, you roll out of bed and rub at your face, pulling the door open.

You hear the sounds of the TV, and as you move down the stairs you see Steve sat on one of the couches, his long legs stretched out. Lifting his head, he smiles at the sight of you.

“Hey. Feelin’ any better?”

You yawn even as you nod. “Mhm. Or maybe I’m more tired now, I don’t know. How are you?”

“Fine, thanks.” He watches you as you move into the kitchen, finding something to eat and drink. “Buck’s comin’ over in about half an hour, by the way. He’s bringing alcohol.”

He chuckles as you look up at him and pull a face.

“Hmm, don’t think I could handle any alcohol for a little while. I think I’ll leave you two to it. Just have a bath and then maybe watch a little of something.”

He nods as he rubs at his jaw, watching you lift your glass to your lips and take a sip. “That sounds nice. What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?”

You swallow, his eyes drifting to your throat, before rising swiftly to meet your gaze. “Uhm, shopping for a wedding dress, and a dress for Saturday. Turns out my glad-rags aren’t so glad.”

A corner of his mouth lifts higher than the other. “Okay. How about I cook us dinner tomorrow, we have a quiet night in. Change Thursday Night Classic Movie Night to Friday Night Classic Movie Night just this once?”

Oh... a taste of the past, of normality.

Your lips lift high as you hum. “Mhm, yes, please, that sounds so great.”

His smile widens. “All right. It’s a date.”

You hum a slight laugh as you move to go to the stairs, then your gaze darts back to him.

What.

He’s back to facing the TV, his eyes on it, and you stare at him.

...

Was that just a figure of speech.

It had to be.

We’ve said it before... right?

We must have.

I can’t ask him to confirm what he meant, I’ll look insane.

You carry on moving to the stairs.

Once in your room, you close the door and pause.

It was just a figure of speech.

That’s it.

Moving into the bathroom, you shake it from your mind and turn the taps on on the bath. You find some bubble-bath in the cupboard under the sink and pour some in.

Undressing and getting in, you lie back with a gentle sigh, closing your eyes as the warm water soothes you. It’s nice and quiet, the only sound the gentle sloshing of the water whenever you move slightly.

Date.

Date.

Date.

Stop it, it’s just a figure of speech. How many times do you say it to Bridge’ and Dolly?

Except today he kissed you on the forehead and said that all the reasons he listed for pretending to be in love with you are actually all the reasons why he likes you.

Stop it. The kiss was just for show, as was the hand holding, or to comfort me, either way, whatever, and the reasons he listed... well... 

...

Stop thinking about it.

You spend the next ten minutes in the bath just thinking about anything but today; wondering what dresses you’ll try on tomorrow, what dresses you liked from before, how fun it’s going to be, what you can watch later.

After getting out and draining the tub, you pat yourself dry, moisturise, and change back into comfy clothes. You want to get another drink and more food so you head out again, this time to the sound of masculine laughter.

You’re already smiling by the time you reach the bottom of the stairs, finding Steve and Bucky stood in the kitchen, opening bottles of beer.

“Well, hello there.”

Lifting his head, Bucky smiles as you approach and start rooting through cupboards.

“Hey, kid. How’re you doin’?”

You and he aren’t huggers, but the gentle affection in his smile, tone and his nickname for you is enough.

You turn to him as you close the cupboard, a bag of cookies under your arm. “Oh, you know, living my engaged dream.”

Steve chuckles as Bucky’s smile widens and he leans against the counter. “So I’ve heard. I thought you did really well at the interview, though.”

You snort, setting the cookies on the counter and making yourself a drink.

“No, seriously.” You look up at him as his insistence, and, oh, he is lovely. “You were yourself. Very warm and friendly. Loved what you said about fame and Joe, too.”

You incline your head, giving a slight curtsy that has him smiling again. “Oh. Thank you.”

“Could’ve cracked a few more jokes, though.”

You side-eye him as your lips twitch and you grab your drink, heading for the stairs. “I’ll bear that in mind for next time. I’ll leave you two to it for a while. Have fun.”

“Yep, see ya.”

“Enjoy yourself,” Steve says a second later.

“Oh, I will,” you say with raised brows as you climb the stairs, “Got plenty of episodes to catch up on that duty has kept me from.”

Steve’s smile lingers on his lips as he watches you disappear out of sight. Taking a breath, he then starts to turn back to Bucky.

“So, how’s the—”

“What’s goin’ on.”

His gaze meets Bucky’s as he pauses at his quiet question, his friend’s eyebrows raised slightly.

“... What d’you mean?”

Bucky’s eyebrows rise higher. “With you and her, what’s goin’ on.”

Steve blinks, then lets out a slight scoff, a hand going to his hip as his other settles on the counter. “Nothing.”

“God, you’re still such an awful liar—”

“Oh, come on, don’t give me that shit—”

“You’re tellin’ me the truth, then?”

He presses his lips together. “... It’s complicated.”

“Is it?” Bucky says, raising his bottle to his lips.

Steve’s jaw moves slightly, and he shakes his head a moment later. “Buck, I... After that letter threatening Y/N, I just—”

“What letter?”

Two sets of eyes dart to you at the top of the stairs, your own staring at them.

You’d forgotten the cookies.

If you’d been a second earlier you’d be having an entirely different conversation.

Bucky straightens, a quiet breath leaving him as Steve’s eyes remain on you, watching you move down the stairs.

“Y/N—”

“What letter, Steve?” you cut in, reaching the bottom step and moving closer, your arms folded, features expressionless.

His jaw moves minutely but he doesn't look away. "... Six months ago I received a letter about you, threatening you because of our friendship. We had good reason to take it seriously so, don't worry, we've had someone watching you to keep you safe—"

You scoff slightly, as your gaze darts between them, a coldness sweeping over you, not knowing what to process first. “Wait, wait, wait, hang on... I... You’ve had some stranger watching me for six months?”

There’s a beat of silence... then Bucky raises his hand. “Not a stranger, kid.”

You stare at him, your mouth moving slightly. “Every day?”

He shrugs a shoulder as he lowers his hand. “Nat and I take it in turns. As fascinating as you are, I need a day off sometimes.”

You let out an incredulous, slightly dazed laugh, because what the fuck. “Wow, okay... Wow, right, Fury must hate you both, giving you this kind of job when there are more important things out there.”

Silence. They shift slightly.

You look between them again, your smile fading. “... What?”

Steve runs a hand down his mouth with a small sigh before it goes to his hip, his gaze gentle on you. “There were a couple more letters after the first one. With pictures of you going to and from work, out with friends. and, uh... well, some not particularly nice things written with them.”

“Oh.”

Part of you wants to ask what. Part of you wishes you’d never forgotten the damn cookies and come out of your room.

Steve’s features soften as he moves around the counter, taking a step towards you. “Look, you—”

“Uhm...” You look at the ground, feeling slightly sick.

Someone had threatened you. More than once. Because you’re Steve’s friend. And that would hurt him.

So many different emotions are swirling and roiling inside of you, and someone had threatened you and you’d had no idea.

Are you comfortable with that? With that being kept from you?

You don’t know anymore.

“... I think I’m just gonna go to bed,” you say, looking up at them, because you don’t know what else to say. “Have a nice night. It was nice to see you, Buck.”

“You, too,” he answers gently as you retreat back upstairs.

As you climb, you glance at them, and see Steve bow his head, his eyes closed.

All that lies between you and whatever happens after this is tomorrow.

Well, at least today’s going to be relaxing, somewhat.

You hope.

Who knows what the day brings anymore.

By the time you’re dressed and ready and heading downstairs, you know Steve’s already gone. Nat is the only person who greets you in the kitchen, surprising you with a soft smile.

“Morning.”

“Hey.” You start to make yourself a drink, feeling her eyes on you.

There’s silence for a few minutes, and it’s not until you turn to her that she speaks.

“I didn’t want you to know about the letters.”

You’re already shaking your head. “It’s fine, Nat, we can leave it—”

“I don’t want you to be mad at Steve—”

Your gaze darts to her, your brow dipping. “I’m not mad at Steve.”

She pauses for a beat. “You’re not?”

“No, I—” You set your mug down, your heart dropping as you look at her. “... Does he think I’m mad at him?”

Her tongue runs along her lower lip as she clasps her hands together on the island. “Well, from what I heard you weren’t... happy.”

Your shoulders slump as you sigh, feeling a lump form in your throat. “I’m not mad at him,” you say quietly.

“It’s okay if you are, Y/N—”

Your eyes close as you shake your head. “No, no, really, I’m not.” You look at her again as you bite at your lower lip. “I was just... I don’t know what I was. I didn’t know what to feel.”

She nods after a moment, her soft smile returning. “Well, that’s understandable.” She pauses for a moment. “I want you to remember, Y/N, that we’re doing this for you as well. We’re trying to find these people so we can keep you safe, too.” 

You nod a few times, managing a smile. “Thank you.”

She exhales a gentle laugh. “You don’t need to thank any of us, Y/N. We want you safe and happy.”

You give a small laugh, too. “Well, that is your job, Romanoff.”

She looks at you, her smile lingering. “It is. But we care about you, too.”

That lump in your throat feels harder to shift.

Sitting back, her smile widens a little more. “Let Bridget and Dolly know we’re gonna set off in five minutes to pick them up.”

You nod as you clear your throat, pulling your phone from your pocket as she slides off of her stool. You pause, though, then look up at her.

“Nat?”

“Hm?” She turns to you, an eyebrow arched.

You open your mouth, then close it. “... What else did Steve say?”

She’s silent for a few moments, then a corner of her mouth lifts. “That he had a good day.”

Bridget had stayed over at Dolly’s the previous night, so you and Nat pick them up from her’s, both of them waiting in the foyer of her building.

They both hug you once they get in the car, squeezing you tightly and making the lump return to your throat. They ask how you are, and even though it’s only been a day you suddenly remember that the last time they’d seen you in person, you’d just been attacked. So you smile and laugh with them as they tell you about their days and how work is, your stomach twisting slightly at the normality of them.

I miss that.

When Nat drops the three of you off at The Pearl, you’re greeted like old friends, and it feels like a haven from the outside world, everything you’ve learned, and the crowd that’s already out the front. The jazzy Christmas is playing softly, the lights are twinkling, it’s empty, Sally and the assistants are attentive and friendly as usual, and they once again bring you a bottle of champagne, though you only take a few sips of your glass over the next hour and a half.

This had been fun the other day.

Now, staring in a mirror at yourself in a lace wedding dress, it just seems so trivial.

Someone had threatened your life. More than once. And he’d never said.

He’d protected you from that.

People are planning on killing him.

This would all be over in two days.

And you love Steve Rogers with all your heart.

An awful concoction of sadness and happiness is swirling inside you and you don’t know what to do. You don’t know what to do about anything but you have to do something because this is nearly over.

You don’t realise someone has been talking to you until Dolly gently touches your arm. Your head whips to her and you smile automatically.

“Sorry, what?”

There’s concern written all across her features, and, please, don’t...

“Y/N, are you okay?” she asks gently.

“Yeah, it just...” Oh, no. You can feel the tears coming. “... This is not how I expected it to be.”

“Oh, love...” Dolly's arms go around you as your features crumble.

You hear Sally quietly ushering the assistants away to give you space as Dolly guides you to the nearest couch, Bridget moving over swiftly to sit on the other side of you.

“This is just so hard,” you say, your voice cracking as you look down at your hands.

“I know, darling, I know,” Dolly murmurs soothingly as she rubs your back, Bridget taking one of your hands and holding it.

“I didn’t expect any of it to be like this.” You have to pause to let out a sob, feeling the tears slide down your cheeks. “I knew it was gonna be hard, I knew it was gonna be so fucking hard, but...”

You want to tell them. You want this secret to be gone, both secrets, all of the secrets you’ve had to keep, you want to be free of them, it’s too exhausting, too taxing—

“Yeah, but Steve’s worth it, isn’t he?” Bridget says gently. “You’re still happy to be with him?”

You look down at your hands, the engagement ring glinting on your left fourth finger.

Lifting your head, you look between both of them as the corners of your mouth lift. “... Yeah, I am.”

“Well, there you go,” Bridget smiles, rubbing your hand. “Hold on to that, babe.”

And you do for the rest of the day, which seems to pass by in a blur.

You just put on whatever’s given to you, drink and eat whatever’s put before you and smile at them all.

Steve is worth it.

Steve does make you happy.

But you dare to want more.

You dare to want more than a friendship.

So you’re going to tell him, you decide, when this is all over, you’re going to tell him how you feel, and then whatever happens... happens.

“Babe?”

You look over at Bridget, both of you now rifling through racks and racks of dresses to find something for you for tomorrow.

“Yeah?”

They’re quiet as they look at you for a moment, a small smile on their lips. “... You know if you... were having second thoughts, that Doll’ and I would be there for you, right? And support you no matter what?”

A soft smile pulls at your lips as you nod. “I know. I’ve always known that.”

I’ll call you in two days.

They nod, their own smile widening, and then they release a loud sigh. “Well, what’re we gonna put you in, huh? See anything you like?”

Blowing out a breath, you drop your hands from the dresses and shrug. “I don’t know, nothing’s really caught my eye, except...”

Their gaze darts to you as you pause, a smirk twitching at their lips.

“What’s going on in that brain?”

Meeting their gaze, you tilt your head, your smirk matching theirs.

“I know exactly what I want to wear.”

You squeeze them both tightly when you say goodbye, grateful, at least, that the next time you see them the truth will be out.

“Ooh, take photos of everything and have a good time and tell us every single detail,” Dolly beams as she squeezes you just as tight, rocking you slightly. “We’ll be watching the live-stream together, too.”

“Oh, God, there’s a live-stream?”

She lets out a laugh as she pulls back, tilting her head. “Just of the red carpet and people arriving, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, we’ll be cheering for you,” Bridget grins as they take your hand, squeezing it.

“Thanks, babes,” you smile, taking Dolly’s hand.

The three of you stand in a little circle, holding hands, and, yes, you know that whatever happens, you’ll always have their support and love.

“All right, go, get some rest,” Bridget says as they move backwards, not letting your hand go until both your arms are extended.

Your smile wider, your hands settle back at your sides as Dolly releases you, too, and you look at them both with a nod. “All right, I’ll message you both when I’m home. Love you both loads.”

“We love you, too, sugar.”

In the ride back to the penthouse, Nat goes over the schedule for tomorrow; drive to New York after breakfast, check into the hotel, stay there, get ready, be at the party for 8, stay for a couple of hours, then leave.

“What do you think’s going to happen?” you ask just as she finishes before you can stop yourself.

She glances at you. “What do you mean?”

You turn your head to look at her, playing with your hands in your lap. “At the party. Do you know who’s behind all this yet?”

She keeps her eyes on the road. “We’re working on it.”

That doesn’t exactly fill you with confidence, but you have to trust her and SHIELD.

Like the day before, when you arrive at the building she heads up in the elevator with you, not leaving until she sees you open the door and get in.

“Steve’s in there,” she murmurs to you before saying goodbye, and the last you see of her before the elevator doors close is a ghost of a smile at the corners of her mouth.

Tutting under your breath at her, if she didn’t secretly frighten you you’d always just ask her what she was smiling about, you close the door and kick your shoes off, blowing out a breath. Removing your coat and hanging it up, you then hesitate.

You can hear him in the kitchen, moving around quietly, opening a few cupboards and retrieving things.

Just go in there.

Moving down the short hallway, you pause before the archway to the kitchen, playing with the engagement ring, looking at him.

He’s in a navy, long-sleeved Henley, dark jeans, barefoot, hair a little dishevelled from where he’s probably run his fingers through it.

“Hey.”

Steve’s head lifts from where he’s placed a chopping board on the island, and the corners of his mouth lift.

“Hi.”

He stays where he is, leaning against the island, his gaze lingering on you, and you smile sheepishly.

“Uhm... I’m sorry for just walking away yesterday, that wasn’t very adult of me.”

He’s already shaking his head before you finish speaking, a corner of his mouth lifting higher. “You don’t need to apologise, Y/N. I don’t like keeping things from you but I didn’t want you to be frightened.”

“No, no, I understand.” You exhale a faint laugh. “Kind of wish I still didn’t know, but... thank you, for saying that.”

His features soften, his arms folding across his chest. “You’re welcome.”

Licking your lips, you hold his gaze. “And I’m... I’m not mad at you about it, either. I was just... surprised.”

His eyebrows raise a little, and after a moment his smile widens a touch. “Are you sure?”

You nod, relaxing as your own smile softens. “Yeah. That’s a difficult position to be in, you were just trying to look out for me.”

He’s silent for a few moments, looking at you, and you see his throat move slightly as he swallows. For some reason, the quiet and his gaze makes your cheeks heat. 

You look away after another moment and smile widely, letting out a breath. “Well, tell Bucky and Nat they are very good at their jobs because I didn’t suspect a thing.”

He nods as his gaze drops, his lips lifting into a wide smile. “Yeah, yeah, I will do...”

You’re about to brightly suggest you both get on with making the dinner you’d planned, when his head lifts again and his smile falters somewhat.

“Y/N...”

Your eyebrows raise a moment later as he doesn’t continue. “Yeah?”

He takes a slight breath. “... This week has been weird, right? Between us? Kinda awkward? I’m not just imagining it, am I?”

You stare at him.

Then, a wide smile breaks across your features as you release a breath. He blinks, rather bemused as you lean against the island, a hand rubbing against your forehead.

“What? I am just imagining it, aren’t I?”

“No, no, no, no, no, oh my God...” You’re grinning now, shaking your head slightly as the tension your body has held all week leaves you. “... I’m so glad you said that, yes, yes, it has been.”

He laughs then, running a hand through his hair as relief washes over his features. “Oh, thank God, I thought it was just me—”

“God, absolutely not, I’m glad you’re the brave one and said it.”

He chuckles, folding his arms again as he sighs, and you feel like he’s let go of some tension, too. Shaking his head, his teeth graze over his lower lip briefly. “Good, and...” His gaze shifts to you. “This is a weird situation and I... I want us to still be us. After this, too.”

Fuck it, I’ll take that.

Your wide smile lingers as you nod. “Me, too, Steve.”

Grinning, he nods once, then straightens and claps his hands together. “All right, now that’s finally been God damn said, let’s get this dinner goin’, huh?”

Beaming, you straighten, too, your hands half-raised. “Right, what would you like me to do?”

Taking a knife from the stand, he uses it to point at his phone across the island. “You can put our playlist on and then help me cut all these vegetables up, I think I went a little over-board.”

“Well, you are a growing boy.”

Your lips twitch at his snort as you move behind him towards his phone.

God, you can’t describe it, but something has lifted from you, from him, from the very air, it’s wonderful.

Scooping his phone up, you know the code for it, so you press the button to illuminate his screen so you can unlock it and—

There’s a picture of you. 

The picture you’d sent him. 

Of you in the vintage-style dress.

It’s his lockscreen.

Glancing up at him, he’s too busy cutting vegetables up at a ridiculous speed to notice that you’ve paused. Your cheeks feel warm, your stomach has flipped and your chest has tightened slightly.

It could be for show, but... Why, when no one outside of this group would have a reason to look at his phone?

Anyway, no big deal. He wasn’t making a big deal out of it...

Maybe he’d forgotten...

Or maybe not...

Biting at your lower lip to hide a smile, you unlock it. As you connect it to a nearby speaker and then locate the playlist, you don’t notice him glancing up at you, a small smile pulling at his lips. As the first song starts to play, one of your very favourites, you meet each other’s gaze and grin, him moving his shoulders to it, you moving closer to him as you bop your head.

You don’t think you stop smiling for the next two hours.

You cook together, like you did when life was normal, and you laugh and grin and dance together, and you just can’t believe how right everything feels again.

After eating, as you wash up together, side-by-side, your cheeks and stomach hurt from how much you laugh together as you both sing along as best as you can to the song playing.

“This will be... an ever-lasting love...”

When you reach your favourite part, both of you barely able to hit the high-notes or match the speed, you can barely get through it.

“This will be, you and me, yes, siree, eternally, huggin' and squeezin' and kissin', and pleasin', together forever through rain or whatever! Yeah, yeah, yeah... Oh, my stomach hurts...!”

The original plan had been for you to watch a film together but, honestly, neither of you want to stop talking. It's the first time that week that you can both actually talk properly with no interruptions and no awkwardness, so at his suggestion, you move onto the balcony, taking blankets and drinks with you, and you sit in chairs, gazing out at the lights of the city.

He tells you about his day, how he and Sam went suit shopping and he spent most of the time just watching Sam try things on. He tells you about his Wednesday, when he and Bucky had gone out for their own drinks after training together and they’d found the quietest bar they could, though they’d still been followed, as per the plan. 

And he tells you everything about the mission; how frustrated everyone at SHIELD is, how the three people they have in their custody aren’t giving anything up, how they can’t find any trace of them or their existence anywhere, how young they are, how obviously disillusioned with the world they are, how, when they do talk, they have an arrogance to them, a superiority, how Nat is barely sleeping, working day and night to personally profile anyone who has ever come into contact with either of you, of how many dead-ends she’s reached.

You listen quietly, wrapped up in a blanket, elbow on the armrest, your chin propped in your hand. Of course you’ve known there were things going on behind the scenes, but hearing it all now you truly appreciate the full magnitude of the operation.

And that they still have no idea who is really behind the threats.

He glances at you as he finishes, and gives a light smile. “Don’t worry, though, they’re workin’ on it and they’ve pulled in extra security for tomorrow.”

Your eyebrows shoot up as your lips twitch. “’Don’t worry’?” He laughs as you do, shaking your head. “Yeah, thanks, Steve, I’ll try that.”

“Oh, good, that should fix it all.” He raises his beer to his lips as his chuckles subside and so does your laughter.

Humming out a breath, you return your gaze to the view of the city, a smile lingering on your lips. Both of you are quiet for a few minutes, just enjoying the silence.

He’s the first one to speak, his eyes drifting to you. “We gotta pack up everything of ours before we go, by the way. After the party we’ll be dropped off back at our place. Our actual place, that is.”

You hum as your lips press together slightly, managing a slight smile. “They’re optimistic about tomorrow, then.”

“Yes, they are.” Looking over at him, he catches your gaze and smiles quickly. “The Avengers are gonna be there, though, aren’t they? What could go wrong.”

You snort, stretching your legs out as your smile softens. “Now that’s true, wow, I feel a thousand times better.” He chuckles as your eyes drift across the balcony. “So this is our last night here, then?”

“Yep. Back to unreliable heating we go.”

As he takes a sip of his drink, your eyes land on the pool.

A smile pulls at your lips.

“Well, then...” 

Steve’s eyebrows raise as he watches you rise from your seat, pulling the blanket off and placing it on your chair. 

“What?”

You look at him, your smile widening as you tilt your head and move backwards towards the pool. “How about a swim?”

“Oh no, what’re you doin’?” His own lips twitch as he watches you grin, heading towards the control panel opposite the closest side of the pool.

“Look, if we get to stay in a fucking nice place and this is our last night, then I get to use all the facilities.”

Placing a hand on your waist, you squint at the control panel, before pressing the button that says, ‘heat’. A gentle humming sound starts behind and you turn, smiling triumphantly.

Raising his beer bottle to his lips, Steve arches an eyebrow. “I didn’t bring my swim suit so.”

“Neither did I.”

He nearly chokes on the mouthful as he watches your hands go to the hem of your shirt. 

Maybe it was the little alcohol you’d had with dinner, maybe it’s because you just really want to get in the pool, or maybe it’s because you feel so bloody relaxed, but you don’t care at all as you pull your shirt off and trousers.

He’s seen you like this before; sometimes in the summer when it just gets too damn hot, you both sit around in your swim-wear, so it feels perfectly natural to be in your underwear in front of Steve Rogers.

And you really want to get in the pool.

Holding onto the rail, you step into the pool, your grin lingering as the warmth of the water rises up your legs.

“Oh my God, this is incredible...”

Moving away from the steps, ducking a little, the water up to your shoulders, you sigh with delight, turning onto your back and closing your eyes.

Too busy undressing and getting into the water, you hadn’t noticed Steve’s gaze lingering on you.

Hadn’t noticed his eyes moving from your shoulders down, down, down, until he quickly averted them, running his fingers over his mouth as a faint pinkness tinged his cheeks.

Clearing his throat quietly, his gaze returns to you as you sigh.

Oh, Christ...

Sitting on the edge of the chair, elbows on his knees, one of his hands supporting his chin, a smile pulls at his lips.

“Is it nice?”

His smile only widens as you open your eyes and beam at him.

“So nice. Get in, come on.”

Raising his eyebrows, he shakes his head, dropping his hand. “Oh, no, I’m all right.”

Tilting your head, you move towards the edge of the pool closest to him. “Oh, come on, it’s so nice. And it’s our last night!”

He sits back, shaking his head again. “No, no—”

“Get in, get in, get in, get in,” you chant as you raise your hands out of the water, clapping them.

Releasing a breath, his hands on his knees, he then nods after a few moments, a smile lifting his lips. “All right, all right...”

You cheer and clap again as he pulls his shirt off, and, yes, though you’ve seen his body before, many times, your breath still catches in your throat slightly as he tosses it aside and then unbuttons and unzips the jeans.

Just the sound of it has you swallowing lightly, and to distract yourself, you lean back in the water, moving away from the side.

Kicking his jeans away, in his briefs, he moves towards the edge and drops down into the pool with such grace that it barely disturbs the water. Raising your eyebrows again, you nod your head.

“It’s good, right?”

He releases a sigh of his own, ducking down in the water so it comes up above his shoulders. “Jesus, yeah, you’re right, this is amazing...”

“Ah, see?” Grinning, you close your eyes and hum as you lay back in the warm, soothing water. “I should’ve got in here after every damn day, my blood pressure would be way down.”

You hear him laugh, the sound accompanied moments later by the gentle sloshing of water. Cracking an eye open, you watch him swim to the deeper end of the pool.

Well, more specifically, you watch the muscles in his back, shoulders and arms move.

Stop it.

Your eyes dart up to the dark sky and you inhale and exhale a deep breath, revelling once more in the lightness you now feel.

Hearing the water move again, you glance over at him, finding him swimming back. Arching an eyebrow, your lips twitch.

“Can you ever just not exercise, pretty boy? Can you not just enjoy it?”

He grins, a corner of his mouth higher than the other as he approaches. “Sorry, was just checkin’ to see how deep it was, see if I could easily drown you.”

Your eyebrows shoot up even as your mouth broadens into a grin and you exhale a laugh. “Oh, is that so? After my life-insurance are you, darling?”

“Mmh, can’t get it right now, we’re not married just yet, dear.”

You make an exaggerated expression of sympathy. “Oh, darn. Guess you’ll just have to wait, then, sweet fiancé.”

“Oh, I’m very patient."

“Yeah, seventy years under the ice will do that.”

You laugh as he shoves water towards you, mercifully it not hitting you in the face, his own lips twitching as he shakes his head.

“You just can’t not, can you?”

“I’m sorry,” you manage through your laughter, “It’s just too easy.”

Looking at you, considering shoving more water at you, or maybe actually drowning you, he then pauses.

And he can’t help himself.

He really looks at you. The small lines at the corner of your eyes that appear, like now, whenever you laugh and smile. The shape of your nose and lips, your tongue now moving out to wet them. Your eyes, on him, honest, warm, easy.

You’re about to speak when he says, his voice a touch lower, “Y/N...”

Your smile lingering, your eyebrows raise slightly after a small beat. “Yeah?”

He wets his lips, keeping his eyes on you. “What you said earlier, about me looking out for you... I’d do anything to keep you safe.”

Your features soften as your cheeks heat. “You, too, Steve.”

“No, Y/N, I...”

You pause slightly, your brow dipping a little. You’re both just looking at each other, and you release a slight breath, almost a faint laugh as you tilt your head.

“Steve—”

Then he reaches out, his thumb stroking against your cheek.

Oh...

Staring at him, you want to lean into his touch as his finger tips brush against your neck... but you can’t.

“What are you saying, Steve?” you murmur, holding his gaze.

He wets his lips again, moving a fraction closer. “I’m saying—”

“Because I can’t misinterpret this, I can’t.” You’re shaking your head. “I have to know if you want m—”

Moving forward, he barely disturbs the water again, but you don’t register it, you don’t care, because his lips are suddenly on yours in the softest of kisses. Your eyes fall shut instantly, a soft sound leaving the back of your throat.

Oh my God.

It’s not until, after a beat, your hand settles on his shoulder that his arm moves, wrapping around your waist, his hand resting on your back.

It’s the lightest of touches, like he wants to touch and hold you but wants to give you the opportunity to move away, wants you to feel that he’d let you go in an instant if you wanted him to.

You absolutely fucking don’t.

You’re about to wrap an arm around his neck to draw him closer when his lips leave yours and it’s such a loss but your brain doesn’t quite have time to catch up because he murmurs in a rather rough, low tone. “... want what?”

Swallowing lightly, you finish in the quietest of voices, “... me like I want you.”

Opening your eyes, your heart pounding, you look up at him, look at his soft expression, an emotion you can’t quite place in his eyes... and his arm has tightened around you slightly at your words.

“I want you,” he says lowly and, oh my God, you can’t stop yourself.

Your hands gripping his shoulders, your lips now claim his.

It’s a fiercer kiss, every ounce of what you feel and have ever felt for him pouring into it, unlocked by those three, short words. 

I want you, I want you, I want you...

His arm is tight around you now and you don’t realise he’s moved you backwards until you feel the wall of the pool against your back. Almost on instinct your legs rise and wrap around his hips, the water moving between you. His lips are everything at once, soft, demanding, hungry, tentative, and then his tongue is touching against your lips, asking for entrance, and you give it immediately.

Yes, you’ve fantasised about this moment, but it’s nothing like the real thing. His tongue strokes against yours, soft and warm, and you just can’t help but moan into his mouth. The moment you do he releases a faint groan, his body pressing into yours and—

Oh my God, is that his cock ...

You can feel it, feel him, pressing against your panties and oh, fu-uck...

You can’t help it. You can’t stop yourself. You rock your hips, a breath, nearly a moan, escaping against his lips.

You feel him tense, his hand flying up to grip at the ledge of the pool, and maybe the tiles crack quietly under his hold or maybe you imagine it, as a slightly strained rush of breath leaves him.

The kiss has broken with the movement, and you’re breathing hard, your chest rising and falling, but your lips are still so close to his.

“Y/N...” he murmurs, his eyes lingering on your mouth, and you could just tilt your head a fraction and claim those lips again, but he continues, “... I don’t wanna... don’t wanna rush this if you don’t want it right now...”

Are.

You.

Fucking.

Kidding.

Me.

Your hand cups his cheek and his head lifts and his eyes meet yours and, oh God, this man...

Licking your lips, they lift into a ghost of a smirk as you murmur, “I want you, Steve Rogers, I mean, I really, really want you, right now.”

A muscle in his jaw moves as you look at one another. Then, a wide smile spreads across his features as he arches an eyebrow.

“Why didn’t you fuckin’ say then, huh?”

Your laugh morphs into a gasp as his hands go to your waist and he lifts you out of the pool, sitting you on the edge of it.

“What—”

“C’mon.” He places his hands on the edge of the pool and pushes himself up, water pouring off of him as he rises out of it.

On his feet, he holds a hand out to you and, looking up at him with a smile that matches his, you take it instantly, letting him help you up.

He keeps ahold of your hand as he leads you around the pool, turning the heater for the pool off as he passes the control panel. All you can do is stare at him, barely feeling the cold, your heart racing.

Is this happening.

Is this real.

If I’m dreaming I’m gonna be so pissed.

He leads you through the glass door into the dimly lit penthouse and you think he might pause at the couch but, no, doesn’t stop, heads towards the stairs instead. You have to stride to keep up with him, almost jogging up the stairs.

At the top of them, he turns you suddenly, making you gasp quietly, pressing you against your closed door. 

“You want me, huh,” he murmurs into your neck before pressing a warm, open-mouthed kiss there, and there’s a roughness to his tone that has an already growing warmth surging between your legs. Coupled with his mouth...

Your eyes fall shut at his kisses on the sensitive column of your throat, your head tilting back against the door as short, gasped breaths escape you. He ducks slightly, his hands on the outside of your thighs, slowly caressing up and down them.

“Huh?” he prompts you again, his lips moving against your jaw and you nod quickly, one hand gripping at his forearm, the other on his chest.

“Yes... You have no idea for how long...”

“Oh, I think I do.”

Your eyes snapping open, you tilt your head down to look at him but before you can meet his gaze, his own head is lifting and he seizes your lips in a hungry kiss.

Moaning into his mouth as your lips part and grant his tongue access, your hand moves behind you, searching for the door handle. You have to arch your back to reach it and his arm instantly locks around your lower back, holding you firm against him and, yes, that’s his hard cock against your thigh.

Oh my God, it’s thick ...

Grabbing the handle, you push it down and the door swings open. His arm around you and his other hand on the door keeps you from falling but within seconds he’s walking you backwards, and you know he’s heading for the bed.

Oh, fuck, I really hope this is happening.

Moments later, the backs of your calves connect with the frame of the bed and then you’re falling backwards and he’s moving with you, landing on the soft sheets. You’re both damp but you don’t care one bit. The kiss has broken so you open your eyes, and though the room is dark, the sliver of moonlight coming in through the gap in the curtains illuminates him and you just gaze at him.

The ends of his hair at the nape of his neck are damp from the water, and it’s completely ruffled now, no longer perfect but it is, and his lips are parted and he’s gazing at you, too, and you wonder what he’s thinking.

In fact, you ask him.

A corner of his mouth lifts higher than the other. “I’m thinking ‘bout how I don’t know whether I want to tell you how long I’ve wanted to do this, or just touch you in every way I’ve imagined.”

Your breathing hitches as a delicious thrill rushes through you. Swallowing, you arch an eyebrow and try to say as nonchalantly as possible, “... Could do both.”

He chuckles, but it’s deep and lusty, and he bows his head as he places a hand beside your shoulder to support himself. 

“That I could,” he murmurs against your neck and you just want to melt, your back arching a little, involuntarily, as your hands glide up his biceps to his shoulders.

“Been wanting to kiss this neck for a very fuckin’ long time...” he continues, and his kisses are now slower, open-mouthed, moving slowly down your neck.

You still as your finger tips press into his skin, wanting to focus on every single sensation and not distract him.

Reaching the base of your throat, his lips continue down to between your breasts, just where the ‘v’ of your bra meets. He hums out a groan as he kisses over the swell of one, his tongue brushing over your skin. You arch your back, pushing your breasts up a little more and he chuckles again.

“Been wantin’ to kiss these, too...”

His mouth moves over the wet material of your bra, and you draw in a breath as his tongue traces over where your nipple is, hard and aching for his touch.

“Do it, then,” you breathe, moan, more like, as his tongue strokes across the material again.

“Gonna be like that, is it?” he murmurs with a growing smile as he lifts his head, his mouth brushing between your breasts.

You have to try very hard not to smile in return as you arch an eyebrow. “Only if you don’t hurry up.”

Rising up, his hands either side of you, he exhales a breath as his lips now brush against yours. “Mmh, wanna take my time with you, though...”

Oh, fuck.

Your hands cup his face and you kiss him deeply, your tongue now seeking his. You feel his smile as he shifts, his legs inbetween yours, and his hands slide under your back. You arch automatically, your breath hitching as you feel his fingers at the clasp of your bra, unhooking it. Lowering your back as his hands move back around to your front, he pulls the straps down your arms and you have to drop your hands from him so he can remove it completely.

Your breasts are bare to him now, your nipples hard, tightening further from the air of the room, and your face heats as he breaks the kiss so he can look down at them as he tosses the bra aside.

Instead of feeling any sense of embarrassment or insecurity, though, desire courses through you as he moves down your body and lowers his head, taking one of your nipples between his lips and tugging at it gently. A moan slips from you, and as he sucks, circles and nips at it, your fingers find their way into his hair, curling in and tugging every now and then.

Whenever you do, he makes a sound, quiet, akin to a groan, and it just makes you wetter, knowing that he likes it. When he moves to your other nipple, his hand rises and rolls the now slick one between his fingers. Your eyes have closed and your head has tipped back as jolts of pleasure pulse through you, and, fuck, with the sensation between your legs you might come from this alone.

Except you need more. You feel... empty, your pussy clenching around nothing, needing to be filled.

Tugging at his hair, hearing those delicious sounds, you drag your teeth over your lower lip as you look down at him.

“Steve—” You have to break off to inhale a sharp breath as he nips at your nipple, making your lips twitch as he glances up at you.

“Hm?”

“I want more...”

Resting his chin between your breasts, his fingers continue idly rolling and squeezing your nipple, making it very hard to concentrate.

“What do you want?”

Your lips parted, one of your hands glides down to his shoulder, your finger tips caressing his skin. “I want you to touch me.”

He arches an eyebrow, pressing a lingering kiss to your chest and you can see he’s trying to hide a smile.

“I am touching you.”

Your mouth drops open as the corners lift in incredulity.

The fucking bastard.

Steve Rogers is a fucking tease.

I knew it.

Inhaling a breath, your cheeks warming again despite your need, you clear your throat. “I want you to touch... mypussy.”

“What was that, sweetheart?” he asks innocently, pressing another kiss to your chest, a little higher up.

You can’t believe it, you’re getting shy.

My God, not today, remember who is between your legs .

Licking your lips, your fingers move up to the nape of his neck, the tips sliding into his hair, your nails grazing against his scalp. You feel his head lean into your hands slightly at that, and a corner of your mouth lifts. 

“I want you to touch my pussy with your fingers and your tongue and—” 

You’re made to break off once more, this time with a sharp moan as he’s moving down your body, your words sparking something inside him, his lips trailing a path down you. He kisses down your soft stomach, his tongue flicking out over your skin every other kiss, making your stomach muscles tighten involuntarily. He moves off the bed, kneeling on the floor as he reaches the waistline of your panties, he kisses along it, and your breaths are so much shorter now, his mouth inches from where you desperately need him, where you’ve fantasised for so long about him being.

“Are these wet from the pool or me?” he rumbles, and you can feel his voice.

Raising your eyebrows, having no idea when you became such a tease, in all your fantasies you’ve practically begged him to fuck you at every turn, you shrug, your fingers carding through his hair.

“The pool, I guess.”

“Oh, so that is how it’s gonna be...” 

Leaning back, your hands falling from him, he hooks his fingers into the waistband and then pulls your panties down, and your faint smirk lingers but you feel your bravado slowly slipping away as he glides them down your legs. Tugging them off of your feet, he drops them to the floor and your whole body feels warm and aching and needy, and you realise that you’re completely naked for him.

He seems to realise it in that same moment, too, as he places a hand on the mattress beside your leg, sits back on his heels, and just gazes at you. You watch his throat bob as his eyes linger on your pussy which you know is wet and glistening, before moving up your body, up your stomach, lingering on your breasts, then meeting your own.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, making your face flush with warmth as you bite at your lower lip.

A soft smile pulls at his lips and you return it, your hands settling on your stomach as you play with them slightly. His hand moves from the mattress and slides around your thigh, resting there. The light touch on your sensitive skin has your breath hitching, but he doesn’t move.

“You want me to touch you?”

His voice is low, quiet, and as much as the question makes your stomach clench in the most delicious of ways, you know he’s asking more for consent.

Fucking yes.

You nod, and spread your legs as wide as you can, your teeth grazing over your lower lip. “Yes.”

You hear the breath he sucks in, his eyes instantly dropping to your pussy, and his jaw moves. Glancing up at you, lust lingers in his darkened eyes.

“Let’s see if you taste as good as I’ve imagined.”

Your jagged breath catches in your throat as he lowers his head and his tongue delves between your pussy lips.

Oh.

My.

God.

All right, you’re not a tease at all. Your head tipping back, a long, breathy moan slips through your parted lips as one of your hands darts down to grip at his hair. He groans against you, and you feel the vibration of it, making your hips buck. The flat of his tongue licks up your slit from your hole to your aching clit and he groans again, his free hand wrapping around your other thigh to keep your legs wide.

“You taste so fuckin’ good...” he rumbles, lapping at you hungrily.

You want to close your eyes but you also can’t stop staring at him, watching the movement of his head as he licks at you, his tongue circling your clit.

His mouth is on you. His mouth is on you.

The very thought has your hips bucking again and he chuckles quietly, kissing and sucking at your clit. His hand slides up from your thigh and his arm settles across your stomach, keeping you down, and the fact you can’t move your hips? That you have to feel every bit of pleasure he gives you...?

“Want your fingers... want your fingers inside me...” you breathe, tugging at his hair.

His hand instantly drops from your thigh and he licks at your clit as his fingertips stroke along your slit, collecting your wetness.

You’re so wet he can push two fingers inside you and, fuck, they’re so long and thick and your eyes now finally fall shut as you moan, your neck arching.

“Fuck...” you hear and feel him murmur, feel his fingers scissor inside you a couple of times. “... So tight... Is that good?”

“So fucking good...” you moan breathily, and he starts to move his fingers, slowly pumping them in and out. They slide so easily you’re so slick.

You can already feel your orgasm building inside you and you try to roll your hips but his arm keeps you down, so all you can do is flex your fingers in his hair as your warm, wet walls start to flutter around him.

“Already, huh?” he murmurs, and you feel his smile as he increases the pace of his fingers.

“Oh, shut up, you don’t know how long I’ve been wanting this...” you release in one breath.

Your brow dipping as the pleasure grows, your fingers are curled tightly in his hair as he groans, sucks at your clit as he slips a third finger inside you, stretching you a little more. Your breaths become higher and shorter, practically just moans at this point, and then he starts to speak.

“Come on, sweetheart, that’s it... Come on my fingers, make my hand wet... Let me feel you...”

Even in your euphoria the corners of your mouth lift because you fucking knew it.

Steve Rogers has a fucking mouth on him.

You bite hard at your lower lip out of reflex, quickly releasing it when he continues, “No, let me hear you, sweetheart... Let me hear how loud you can come for me, I’ve been dreamin’ about this...”

“Fucking hell...” you gasp because this man.

Almost at his command, though, moans are tumbling out of you and it just takes a few more pumps of his fingers and that tongue flicking over your clit, and then you stop breathing for a moment, your back arching.

“Steve...” you breathe.

And then the pleasure explodes inside you as you cry out, trying to close your legs on instinct but his shoulders keep them apart and he doesn’t stop as waves of pleasure roll through your body.

You can faintly hear him murmuring, “That’s it, good girl... Fuck...” but you’re too busy focusing on the sensations and even though you’re quickly growing sensitive, you don’t want him to stop because fuck.

You don’t know how long it is until he eventually starts to slow them, but you’re breathing hard, fingers loosened on his hair and your eyes are still closed. He presses a kiss to your clit which makes your hips jerk and he laughs quietly. You hum in the back of your throat as his fingers slide out of you and, opening your eyes, you find him moving back on top of you, a rather satisfied smile on his lips.

It softens, though, as he meets your gaze and places his hands either side of your head to hold himself up. Bowing his head, he presses a deep, lingering kiss to your lips, and you groan softly as you can taste yourself.

“Okay?” he asks quietly, brushing his nose against yours.

“Yeah,” you answer, still trying to catch your breath.

Draping your arms around his neck, he kisses you again, his tongue stroking against your mouth much like he’d stroked it against your cunt. The kiss deepens as both of you stroke at one another and you’re very aware of your body now, aware of his hand caressing your hip and waist, moving up and down, and it’s heaven.

You need more.

Hooking a leg over his waist, he allows you to draw his body down, his straining, clothed cock pressing against your wet pussy. He hisses out a breath against your lips and you just can’t stop yourself from smirking.

“You want me, too, huh?” you whisper into his ear after his head lowers when you start to rock your hips against him.

He growls against your neck. “Very much so.”

Very much enjoying the feel of how tense he is, his hand gripping your thigh, his fingers tightening as you rock your hips again and again, you let out a breathless moan, your fingers running through his hair.

“Then fuck me.”

He growls again, his teeth grazing over your neck, and then his lips are on yours, kissing you hungrily, heatedly. Your hands drop down, pushing between you both to his briefs and you start to push them down. He uses the hand by your head to push himself up again, giving you space to, and his lips are tearing from yours and laving your neck in open-mouthed kisses as you free his cock.

His mouth is just so damn good, nearly distracting, but as he kicks his briefs off, your hand instantly moves to his cock and—

Oh, God, you want your mouth on him.

You feel him grit his teeth as his kisses pause when your fingertips brush against the hard, thick, long length of him.

Pre-cum leaks from his tip and you use the pad of your thumb to spread it, circling the head.

“Jesus Christ...” he hisses out, bucking into your hand, and your fingers wrap around him, feel how thick he is.

Oh my God.

You may want your mouth on him but you want something else more.

“I want you inside me,” you murmur against his ear and he nods several times, turning his head to press an almost sloppy kiss to your jaw.

Pulling his head back, his cheeks and neck are flushed a light pink and, God, he’s never looked more beautiful.

“Condom?” he asks, a slight tightest to his tone and you realise it’s because you’re still stroking him lightly.

His question makes you halt, though, and you pull a slight face. “Oh, shit, I don’t have any.”

“I do.”

Your eyebrows shoot up as you unsuccessfully try to stop a smile. “Wait, you do?”

He shakes his head slightly, a corner of his mouth twisting up as he shrugs a shoulder. “Buck gave me some at the beginning of this.”

Your smile widens into a grin as you caress his cheek. “Ooh, I hate him but I love him.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not the one who made you come, is he?” he gravels, lowering his head and pressing a firm, searing kiss to your lips before he’s then moving off of you.

Having to take a moment to catch your breath, you watch him stride towards the door, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“Well, I was thinking of him.” 

Turning his head to you as he rounds the corner, he arches an eyebrow, shaking his head but you just about glimpse the incredulous smile he tries to stop. “You’re fuckin’ somethin’ else...”

Laughing, your teeth sink into your lower lip. You hear him striding down the hall to his room, shoving the door open. Pushing yourself up, you shift your position and then lie back against the pillows, breathing slightly raggedly. Looking up at the ceiling, you swallow hard.

This is happening.

This is fucking happening.

And you both want it.

You play with your hands on your stomach, pushing the engagement ring from side to side.

This is finally happening.

You hear him stride back down the hallway, your eyes going to the door, and, oh my God, you’ll never get used to the sight of him naked. There’s a light sheen to his skin, either from the water or sweat you don’t know, his hair is beyond ruffled and his eyes are instantly on you, taking you in as much as you do him.

Pushing the door shut with his foot, he tilts his head as he rips the packet open.

“Oh, good, you’re still here.”

You bite at your lip to stop a smile as you shrug. “I’ve got nothing else to do.”

“Aren’t I lucky.”

Tossing the packet aside, he places a knee on the bed and your eyes drop to watch him roll the condom onto his cock. You’re even wetter, if that’s possible, knowing he’s soon going to be inside you.

Once the condom’s on, he moves towards you, settling over you, and your hands go to his shoulders, sliding up to rest either side of his neck. He gazes down at you, and you smile and the one he returns it with is so soft and warm and you love him, you love him, you love him.

He takes you by surprise by kissing you just as softly and sweetly, and you press your body against his. A rush of breath leaves him as he lifts his head and nudges his nose against yours.

After licking his lips, he murmurs quietly, “We can stop now if you want. Just say the word.”

I love you.

Cupping his face, your thumbs brush against his cheeks as you hold his gaze. “I don’t want to stop,” you reply, just as quiet as him.

He nods and kisses you again and it’s slow and languid and has you arching against him, pliant and in love.

“Gonna go slow, all right...” he mumbles against your mouth and you nod, and then you feel his hand reaching down between you, grasping his cock, and you widen your legs.

Keeping his lips against yours, moving them slowly, you then feel his cock start to push into you. You inhale sharply as your head tips back a little and his mouth falls to your jaw, pressing gentle kisses along it even as you hear him groan. With how slow he’s going you feel every inch of him as he fills you and it’s fucking delicious. Your slick walls stretching around him has his hand gripping one of the pillows beside your head and he exhales hard, short breaths against your neck. He must be using every ounce of restraint he has to not just thrust into you.

You, however, have none.

Rolling your hips up, you draw him further into you, hearing him curse against your skin, and then he’s fully sheathed inside you. You both still, your arms around him, his hand on one of your knees, keeping your leg wide, his other crushing the pillow. His whole body is tense, his muscles taut, but he’s waiting for you to give permission, waiting until you’re comfortable. 

It is quite a cock to accommodate, but you’re so desperate for him, so fucking wet at finally feeling him inside you, that only a moment later you’re rocking your hips again and again, picking up a slow rhythm.

He releases the breath he’d been holding, it soon followed by a deep groan and just the very sound makes your walls flutter around him. He hisses, and then he’s thrusting into you, picking up a faster pace than the one you had set.

“Tell me if it’s too much...” he groans against your ear, and it is but in the best possible way.

“Don’t... don’t stop...” you moan, your nails digging into his back as you feel his thick cock drag in and out of you.

He takes you at your word and, thank God, because his hips are thrusting faster and you can hear the headboard banging against the wall with the momentum. Only for a few moments, though, because then his hand is darting up from the pillow to grip it, whether to silence it or have something sturdier to hold onto you don’t care.

His forehead is pressed against your cheek, and with every mewl and moan you release his fingers tighten on your knee.

And then he starts to speak again, and all your fantasies had been absolutely correct.

Steve Rogers really does have a fucking mouth on him.

“You feel so fuckin’ good... so wet and tight... thought about doin’ this for so long but this is so much fuckin’ better...”

All you can do is moan and gasp with every thrust and grip onto him.

“So fuckin’ good, sweetheart...” he groans against your ear and you want to melt. “... How does my cock feel, huh?”

“Oh, fuck... You’re so thick... You feel so fucking good...” 

With each thrust he stretches and fills you perfectly, like you were made for him, and your breasts bounce, your nipples brushing against his hard chest.

Lifting his head, his teeth graze against your jaw before he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Look at me...” he commands lowly, and it takes a moment for your eyes to open.

Locking your gaze on his, an indescribable feeling washes over you, maybe one of joy, maybe one of completion, maybe one of that this feels so fucking right, and you moan his name.

He answers it with a hissed curse before capturing your lips in a fierce kiss, muffling your next moan. 

Your nails are gliding down his back but he doesn’t feel it, doesn’t care, because the feel of you around him...

“... not gonna last long... want to feel you come on my cock, want to feel you come...” he groans, and then his hand is off your knee and at your pussy, feeling where he’s sliding into you before his fingers rub against your clit.

You cry out at the burst of pleasure, your lips tearing from his as you throw your head back. “Oh, fuck...”

“Come for me... need you to come for me first...” he nearly slurs against your throat, teeth gritted, and you realise then; he’s trying to hold off his own release.

You’re about to make a breathless crack at what a gentleman he is when his hand is off the headboard and his arm is sliding under your lower back, angling your hips perfectly, and you feel like you’re seeing fucking stars.

“Oh, fuck, Steve...” you gasp, one hand gripping his shoulder, the other flying back to press against the headboard as you try and ground yourself.

It’s no use, though. He’s fucking determined, thrusting hard and fast into you, stroking unrelentingly at your clit, and your orgasm is rising so fast, unstoppable.

“Steve, Steve, Steve...” You’re almost babbling his name, the only word that comes to you, the only thing that makes sense, and his mouth is at your ear again.

“Come for me, baby, please, need to feel you come, need to feel you all tight and wet around me...”

Your breaths are ragged and moaned, and you inhale sharply, and then you’re sent crashing into your release with his next thrust, crying out loudly as your back arches, your legs wrapping tight around his waist.

“Steve...”

He grunts, his hips snapping forward as your pussy clenches around him, trying to keep him buried inside you, and then they’re starting to stutter as his own breaths become harsher. His hand moves from your pussy, gripping the headboard again, and you turn your head, your lips brushing against his cheek as you mewl weakly.

After two more thrusts, he then stills and releases a yell through gritted teeth into the crook of your neck as he comes. As he gives a few more thrusts, his hips jerking, prolonging both your pleasures, your teeth sink into your lower lip, a low, soft, hummed moan sounding from the back of your throat.

He stays buried inside you when he finally stills again, panting against your skin, his body entirely relaxed on top of yours. You don’t move, trying to regulate your pounding heart and breathing. You don’t realise when it happens, but the hand on his shoulder moves to the back of his neck, your finger tips gently stroking his hair.

Silence descends on the room, the only sound your laboured breaths.

The weight of him on top of you is starting to get a little bit too uncomfortable but you don’t want to speak, you don’t know if you can, actually.

Then you feel his fingers lightly stroking your hip and his head lifts, his nose brushing against your jaw before his mouth finds yours.

He kisses you slowly, lingeringly, and you could stay like this forever.

“Fuck, sorry, must be crushing you,” he mumbles suddenly and he must not be quite recovered yet either.

“It’s fine, don’t worry...” you smile softly, the backs of your fingers brushing against his cheek.

“Yeah, I bet it’s not, hang on...” He presses a brief, firm kiss to your lips before his hands are on the bed either side of you and he pushes himself up. He then draws his hips back, pulling his softening cock out of you and you wince just slightly at the sensation, more bereft at the loss of having him inside you.

Adjusting your head on the pillows as he sits back, you’re about to open your arms to him when he moves off the bed and heads into the bathroom.

“Uh, where are you going?”

“Hang on...”

After a few moments, you hear water running briefly, and then he returns with a damp hand-towel, your gaze trailing over his body once more, noting he’s gotten rid of the condom, and then your features soften as you realise what he’s about to do. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he gently takes your ankle and widens your legs a little more before he lightly wipes away the wetness on your cunt and thighs.

“Thank you...” you murmur, your lips twitching as you gaze at him with such adoration.

His gaze lifts and meets yours and you see your own expression mirrored back to you. “Think I should be thanking you.”

You laugh softly, and then close your eyes with a soft hum as he gently wipes and dabs at you, the action quite soothing. When you feel the absence of the towel, you open your eyes and look at him, watching him fold it and lean over, placing it on the bedside table.

“Now, will you come here?” you say quietly, and he looks over at you, a corner of his mouth higher than the other.

“Gladly.”

Shifting forward, you let him pull the sheets down and you both slide under them, your head settling on his shoulder as he pulls the covers up around you both before his arm wraps around you. Resting your arm against his chest, silence comes again as you both lie there, his cheek resting against the top of your head.

“... So...” he murmurs after a pause.

“So...” you answer, your lips twitching.

“Wanted this for a while, huh?”

“Yeah. You, too?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“... Who knew we could have been doing this for months if you’d just said something.”

“If I’d just said something?”

A wide smile tugs at your lips as you tilt your head to look up at him, finding his eyebrow arched.

“Steve, you know I can’t even call our takeaway place.”

“Oh, well, that’s true.”

Laughing softly, you then rise up a little and press a gentle kiss to his lips. He returns it immediately, his finger tips idly stroking up and down your back.

“Anything else you want to confess?” he murmurs against your lips.

I love you.

“Nope,” you reply, smiling softly at him before pressing another kiss to his lips.

You both allow it to linger for a short while, before his head is leaning back against the pillows and yours is returning to his shoulder. Closing your eyes, a feeling of utter bliss and contentedness settles over you.

“I just need to say that...” he begins quietly, his fingers still caressing you. “... I don’t want this to be a one time thing.”

Your wide smile is hidden from his view, but he feels it. “Me, too.”

‘I don’t want this to be a one time thing.’

You'd fallen asleep soon after those glorious words had been spoken, head on his shoulder, fingers splayed across his chest, his hand over them, his arm around you.

It had felt so right. Maybe that’s why you’d slipped so easily into your sleep, feeling so safe and warm and cared for.

Feeling him behind you, you know he’s still asleep, his breathing measured and soft, and you bite at your lower lip as a wide smile pulls at the corners of your mouth, the memories of last night trickling back into your mind as your hand rests lightly over his.

It had happened.

It had really happened.

Turning your head slowly so as to not wake him, you get a glimpse of his sleeping, peaceful face, eyes closed, completely relaxed. You hadn’t often fantasised about this part because it had hurt too much but it’s just as blissful as the times you had. Unable to stop yourself, you carefully turn over to face him, moving so slowly, and once you settle against him, your chest pressed to his, his brow just dips slightly and his arm tightens around you a little.

You gaze up at him, your eyes slowly trailing down his features. He looks so content, so rested, so—

“How long are you gonna stare at me?”

You have to bite your lip again at his sleep-roughened mumble, and of course he’d been awake that whole time. Gazing at him, his eyes remaining closed, you shrug a shoulder.

“Long as I want to.”

He adjusts his head on the pillow slightly. “All right, just let me know when you’re done.”

Your wide smile has returned, and you can’t hep but hum quietly at his finger tips idly stroking your back.

Oh, what those fingers had done...

Tilting your chin up, you brush your lips against his jaw and a quiet noise sounds from the back of his throat. Pressing another gentle kiss there, you then trail them along to his chin, then before you can move to his lips he’s tilting his head down and meeting yours.

It’s a soft, tender, lingering kiss, and his other arm slides under you during it, holding you closer.

You never want it to end.

When it does, though, he presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth and then your cheek before his eyes finally open and he gazes down at you with a soft smile.

“Hello.”

You drape an arm around him, the other tucked against your chests as you smile. “Hi.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Yeah.

“Good.”

Licking his lips, his fingers trace up and down your back as he looks at you. “You know, I—”

“Hello?”

Both of you freeze, hearing the voice downstairs, staring at each other.

Nat.

You both move in the same moment. He releases you, darting off the bed and pulling his briefs on before he stares at the floor, remembering both your clothes are still down by the pool. You have moved off the bed, too, wrapping a blanket around yourself because your underwear is on the other side of the room.

“Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God...” you hiss, hearing Nat start to move up the stairs.

“Steve? Y/N?”

He grabs the robe from the back of the bathroom door, tugging it on and tying it tightly as you move around the bottom of the bed to dart into the bathroom. He catches your arm, though, and you inhale sharply as he pulls you towards him.

“Steve, she’s gonna—”

His lips press to yours in a firm, brief kiss, before he draws his head back and grins at you. Shaking your head, trying very hard to stop a smile as your tongue runs along your teeth, you watch him stride to the door and open it just enough so he can slip through, closing it behind himself.

You hear Nat pause on the top step, then silence.

“... Nat.”

“Well, good morning, Steve.”

God, you can hear her smirk.

There’s a short pause before you hear him striding down the hallway to his room.

From down below, you hear Sam’s voice calling up. “... Oh, now wait a minute!” 

You hear the sound of Steve’s door closing a few moments later as Sam laughs.

You have to stop your own laugh as you grip at the blanket, and then there’s two knocks on the door.

“Are you decent? May I come in?” Nat asks, and you tighten the blanket around yourself, readying yourself for the smirk of all smirks.

“Yep, come on in.”

It opens and she peers in before stepping through and closing the door behind herself. Your lips twitch as she folds her arms and her gaze slowly travels from the strewn bedsheets to you.

A corner of her mouth twitches.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

You lick your lips to hide your smile. “Hello.”

“Quiet night, huh.”

“Yep.”

She nods, her tongue running along her teeth, and you can see she’s trying to hide a smile, too. “All right. I guess I’ll bring those clothes down by the pool up for you.”

You nod, your face warm despite your smile breaking through. “Thank you.”

“You’re so welcome.“ She raises a finger from her arm, pointing at the bathroom. “Now go and shower, I’ll start to pack for you, you little minx.”

Snorting, you’re grinning now as you quickly dart into the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind yourself.

Oh my God.

You don’t feel embarrassed. You don’t feel self-conscious. It just feels right, all of it.

Letting the blanket drop to the floor, you roll your shoulders and turn the shower on before turning your gaze to the mirror.

Oh, wow.

You look thoroughly debauched in all the best ways, and as your eyes travel down, you can see faint bruises on your hips, on your thigh, and on your knee from where he’d gripped you. It sends a delicious thrill through you, that last night not only lingers on your mind but on your body.

Stop it and get on.

You shower quickly, and after moisturising and wrapping yourself in a towel you pad back into the bedroom. Nat has already nearly finished packing, all your clothes folded so perfectly neatly, and even the bed sheets have been stripped and piled on the floor.

I love her.

She looks up at you, a smile pulling at her lips. “Did you use the vibrator?”

Oh, shit, she really has packed everything for you.

You nearly choke on your spit, your eyebrows raising. “No.”

“Oh, well, what a shame.” Nodding at the wardrobe, she places her hands on her hips. “I’ve left your most comfortable clothes in there, seeing as you’ll be in the car for a while.”

“Thank you.” Darting into the closet, your cheeks warm, you leave the door slightly ajar as you start to dress so you can ask. “Why are we driving and not taking a jet? Surely that’s quicker?”

“It is,” she answers, and you hear her sit on the bed. “Driving gives us a better chance to see if anyone follows, though.”

Oh. That’s right.

You’d nearly forgotten, in all the beauty and joy of yesterday and this morning.

There could be an attack today.

There is going to be an attack, an attempted one at least.

Swallowing hard, you finish dressing in silence, the joy and warmth within you dwindling. 

No, no, hold onto it.

Emerging from the closet, you smile at her as she looks at you, holding her hand out for the towel. You give it to her and she rises from the bed, dropping it onto the pile of bedsheets, and you start to fold the remainder of your clothing, Nat rounding the bed to help you. 

After several moments, you clear your throat.

“Bucky gave Steve condoms at the beginning of this, huh?”

A glance at her finds that, yep, the smirk’s there.

“There was a bet of sorts. Steve didn’t know why he was given them, just thought it was Barnes being Barnes. Now he owes me $200 dollars, which reminds me—”

“Bucky? $200? What? Why?”

There it is, the smirkiest of smirks.

Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she moves to the door as she points at you. “No time for questions, get on and pack, we’re on my schedule.”

Staring at her as she steps out of the door, you then hear Sam from outside.

“... There are clothes out here? Oh my God...”

Standing just outside of the front door, a long, forlorn groan leaves you as Steve tugs on your hand gently.

“Come on, Y/N...”

Taking your last look at the penthouse of your dreams, you release a dramatic sigh. “I guess we’ll always have the memories.”

“Yes, we will,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, both his words and the action making your teeth sink into your lower lip.

Oh, hoooo, yes we will.

Sighing again, you finally release the door-handle and let the door swing shut, turning with him and stepping into the elevator. Sam and Nat stand within it, Nat typing away on her phone, Steve’s bag at her feet, your bags at Sam’s. The elevator doors slide shut as you lean back against the closest wall, Steve’s hand squeezing yours before he releases it and folds his arms across his chest, leaning, too.

Biting at the inside of your lower lip, you gaze at the ground as the elevator descends before, a few moments later, you hear Sam clear his throat, your eyes moving up to him.

He inclines his head at you and Steve, trying not to smile, then raises his hand slightly, pointing. “So, uh... this is... this is now... yeah?”

You smile and stifle a laugh as Steve nods, hearing the smile in his tone. “Yeah.”

Sam nods a few times as his grin breaks through, his eyebrows raised a little. “Well, all right.”

You have to try very hard not to laugh as the elevator continues to descend and eventually halts and opens. You know Sam is desperate to ask for details but also wants to be respectful, and Nat just types away on her phone, glancing up at you both every now and then with a smirk.

Oh my God, she’s not messaging the rest of The Avengers, is she.

Oh my God, I’m meeting them later.

You cross the lobby, a group of agents standing outside, some you recognise from having been in the penthouse on Wednesday, and they split off and climb into three different SUVs. Nat opens the passenger side door of the one closest to you and you climb in, finding it empty, and Steve gets in on the driver’s side, closing the door.

Looking at Nat as you buckle your seatbelt, you raise your eyebrows.

“Are you and Sam not coming with us?”

“Nope. Just you two. We’ll be following close behind.” Closing your door, she smiles widely then strides to the SUV behind you, and, glancing in the wing-mirror, you see Sam climbing into the passenger side.

He waves and you beam, waving back.

Facing forward, you then turn your head to Steve as he follows behind the SUV before him, one hand on the steering wheel. He glances at you and returns your smile, gentle lines at the corners of his eyes.

Slipping his phone out of his pocket, he then hands it to you. “How about some music?”

“Oh, yes.” Taking it, you’re once more greeted by the sight of his lock-screen; you in the vintage dress.

Glancing at him, he meets your gaze.

“Really like that picture,” is all he says, his eyes returning to the road.

Your stomach flipping in delight, you then connect his phone to the SUV and locate your playlist.

As the first song starts to play, you place his phone in the small compartment under the radio and lean back in your seat, exhaling a breath and clasping your hands in your lap.

About ten seconds later, his hand moves from his thigh and rests on yours. Glancing down at it, your lips twitch. Sliding one of your hands closer, your fingers nudge under his and he turns his hand over so you can take it, your fingers lacing. 

His hand moves from yours only six times, you know because you count, throughout the whole journey.

Even when you’re both singing away, laughing, it’s there, and it’s so comforting.

Conversation is kept light, neither of you make any mention of the party, and you don’t mind at all. You like this little bubble of happiness you’re in now, and the logical part of your mind is whispering that denial is sometimes maybe a good thing...?

Maybe?

Maybe.

You arrive at the hotel just after 3PM, and after following the SUVs down into an underground garage, (these are just part of my life now) Steve parks up and you have to release his hand. Stepping out, you stretch your legs with a groan, rolling your shoulders.

Car doors slam as the agents get out of their SUVs and so do Nat and Sam.

“How was your journey?” you call to Sam, rotating your ankles one at a time.

He sighs heavily and shakes his head. “I owe Nat $325.”

“What, why?”

He shrugs, opening the boot of the SUV. “We were just passin’ the time.”

“By making bets?” You glance at Nat who’s rounding the front of the SUV, looking rather triumphant.

She shrugs. “It passes the time.”

Making a mental note to never make a bet with her, you follow behind her as Sam and another agent carry your bags and Steve’s. Steve’s at your side, and he hands the keys to the SUV to Nat, who pockets them before fishing her phone out of the other pocket as you all step into an elevator. Four agents step in with you while the rest remain in the garage, typing on tablets or speaking to people on their phones.

The doors slide shut and you and Steve find yourselves at the back, unable to see what button Nat has pressed as she murmurs to Sam. Clasping your hands together, you glance at the dial indicating where the elevator is at on its journey.

You wonder if Nat already has the key to your suite. Suite.

I’m never gonna be able to go back to a normal life after this—

A hand gently settles on your ass.

A sharp inhale leaves you and an agent glances at you. Coughing quickly, you smile at her and she returns it before looking back at her tablet.

Your eyes then dart to Steve beside you, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. He keeps his gaze ahead though, and you swiftly do the same, your cheeks heating.

Then his fingers gently caress just slightly, making your back arch a little as you straighten, biting at the inside of your lower lip. You fix your gaze on the dial. It’s climbing higher and higher, maybe Nat does have the key—

His hand slides between your legs. Swallowing the moan that has risen in your throat, you shift your hips a little, pressing them down against his hand. His fingers flex and—

The elevator ‘dings’ as it reaches the requested floor. The doors slide open and the agents spill out, one grabbing the bags along with Sam. Steve’s hand is suddenly gone from you as you both step out, and you’re both pleased and disappointed.

Well, maybe more disappointed.

... God, I hope we get to be alone.

Following Nat down a burgundy carpeted hallway, there’s only two doors in sight, one to to the left, one on the right. A few of the agents peel off and head to the room on the right as Nat leads you to the other door, knocking twice on it. A few moments later, it opens to reveal Bucky, two other agents stood some way behind him.

He leans back against the door, holding it open to let your small group enter, but his eyes immediately find you and Steve, though, his arms folding across his chest, a smile on his lips.

“Hello, you two.”

“Save it,” Steve answers as he passes through, arching an eyebrow, but you catch the beginnings of a smile.

Bucky lifts his hands innocently, raising his eyebrows. “I’m just saying hello.” Closing the door, his gaze turns to you as his expression softens a little. “How’re you doin’, kid.”

You return his light smile, shrugging a shoulder. “Fine, thank you.”

“I’ll bet.” 

“Save it.”

Bucky chuckles as he passes behind Steve, clapping a hand on his back, and you glance up at Steve, watching him sigh wearily as you both follow behind his friend into a living room area.

The suite isn’t dissimilar to the penthouse in that it’s modern, furnished beautifully with grey and white furniture, dark wooden flooring and stylish photographs on the wall of the city.

How am I going to be able to return to my apartment after this.

Nat moves away from where she was talking with two agents, both of them immediately turning away and making calls on their phones, and she turns to you and Steve, folding her arms.

“All right, here’s what’s gonna happen, you don’t go anywhere, your suit and your dress is in the wardrobe in the bedroom, if you want food, let Barnes or Agents Hoskins or Glazer know,” she gestures at the two agents who had already been in the room with Bucky and continues, “Sam and I are gonna be in the room across the hall, there’ll be agents outside the door, and you need to be ready for 7:30.”

Oh, no, not alone.

You release a breath as you nod, fighting the urge to salute even as you say, “Yes, ma’am.”

You think you maybe see her lips do the tiniest of twitches, but then she’s crossing the room for the door, agents following her. “Thank you, bye.”

She heads out and Sam nods at you both, placing a hand on your arm and squeezing gently.

“See you both later,” he says quietly, and you can’t help but smile warmly.

“Bye.”

After the door closes behind him, silence falls. It’s now just you, Steve, Bucky, and Agents Hoskins and Glazer. The latter two are stood in the kitchen area, one reading a folder, the other typing away on her phone.

Bucky sits in a plush white chair with a sigh, crossing his legs, and you glance at Steve, his gaze meeting yours, a faint smirk on his lips, before you quickly look away, heat flooding your face.

Oh my God, am I shy again?

You can’t stop thinking about his fingers. Truthfully, you thought you might be left alone and that you could carry on last nights activities, hell, the activities of less than five minutes ago, but no, safety apparently called for a crowd.

“How was the drive?”

Bucky’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts and your eyes dart to him, but he’s gazing at the TV he just turned on, flicking through channels.

“Fine,” you say quickly.

“Yeah, not a lot of traffic,” Steve adds.

Bucky looks at you both, eyes going between you, and the corners of his mouth lift. “That’s good.”

I am gonna murder you.

“How ‘bout we watch something together, huh?”

Steve nods, hands in his pockets. “Sure.”

“Uhm...” Both of them pause and look at you as you start to speak, your cheeks burning because of the God damn elephant in the room and you’re now turned on and nothing can be done about it. You gesture behind you. “... I’m just gonna use the bathroom. Maybe have a shower, too.”

You can’t look at Steve because he’ll just know what you want.

“All right, have fun,” Bucky says, smiling widely, and is he a mind reader because I feel like he is.

You match his smile briefly as you take your bag, and then you turn and head for where you hope the bedroom is. Behind you, Bucky switches channels again and you hear some kind of a game, a crowd cheering. What you don’t see is Steve’s eyes following you.

Pushing a heavy wooden door open, you shuffle in, holding your bag with both hands, and let it close behind you after you step in, surveying the room.

Everything is either grey, white or red, except for the wardrobe and chest of drawers which are made of a dark brown wood. The bed is enormous, plush pillows covering the headboard. Placing your bag on the floor, you head to the en-suite.

Washing your hands a few minutes later, you dry them and head back into the bedroom, lying back on the bed as you pull your phone out of your pocket to check your messages.

in your group chat with Bridget and Dolly, they’re eagerly awaiting photos of the hotel, so you snap a few of the bedroom and what you can get of the bathroom from your position. You’re seconds away from giddily telling them you and Steve slept together last night when you remember you’re already meant to have... in fact you’ve told them you have... several times... in multiple ways and positions...

God, I can’t wait for today to be over then my friends and I can scream with joy at each other. We can go out for brunch and cry into our cocktails as I tell them everything and how much I love them and how much I love Steve’s dic—

A light knock on the door has you sitting up quickly, standing, even, and calling, “Come in.”

It opens and Steve enters, holding his bag and smiling lightly.

Do my thoughts actually just summon him.

“Hello,” you say softly, unable to stop a smile as you place your phone on the bedside table.

“Hey.” The door closes behind him and he lifts his bag a little. “Thought I’d bring mine in, too, get it out of the way.”

Your eyebrows raise as your smile widens, your stomach flipping a little. “Oh, really?”

He chuckles, setting the bag down before his hands go into his pockets, moving closer to you. “That’s exactly what Buck said, in that tone, too.”

“Well, he and I are made for each other.”

Letting out a breath, a 'God help me’ sigh, perhaps, he reaches out to you as you smile widely, his arms sliding around your waist and pulling you against him. “Let’s shut you up, huh...”

Your laugh is muffled by his lips on yours, your arms instantly going around his neck. Your lips move slowly against one another, savouring each other and the little shred of privacy you now have. 

Humming softly against his lips, your finger tips stroke at the nape of his neck. “Mmh, I said I was going to shower...”

His hand caresses up and down your back as he murmurs, “What d’you know, I think I’ll have one, too...”

You’re smiling before he’s even finished speaking, lips brushing against his. “I think it’s going to be very obvious to everyone what we’re doing...”

His head bows and he trails kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin. “I think it already is...”

Inhaling a breath at the feel of his mouth, warmth pooling in your lower stomach, you bite at your lower lip. “Mmh, fine...” His lips return to yours and you smile against them as he kisses you firmly, a hand sliding down your ass. Pressing another kiss to your lips he then releases you, kicking his shoes off and unbuckling his belt.

Biting at your lower lip, moving backwards, you point towards your bag, nearly knocking against the bathroom door. “I stole some of that shower gel from the penthouse, can you grab it for me, please? Should be somewhere on top.”

“Isn’t there shower gel in there?” He tugs his shirt off, your eyes instantly going to his body.

“Uh...” Your eyes quickly return to his as he drops his shirt to the floor, but he caught you staring, an eyebrow arching as he smiles. “... Oh, well, yeah, but I like my stolen shower gel.”

“All right, all right...” He moves to your bag as you dart into the bathroom, heading to the shower and turning it on. 

It’s huge, taking up the whole of the back wall, no door to it, just a glass partition that stops a metre or so from the wall. After testing the temperature, you turn and find Steve stood in the doorway.

“What’s this?”

“What—”

You look at his hand, and he’s holding... your vibrator. You stare at it, your lips parted.

“Uh...” He has to know what it is. Your gaze meets his, and from his darkened eyes he definitely knows what it is. “... That is... my vibrator.” Your lips are twitching even as you say it, your face warm.

He nods, his jaw moving slightly. “Huh.” He takes a few more steps into the room. “You use it?”

“Yep.”

“Recently?”

“Yep.”

He’s stood before you now, the toy still held up in his hand, and you can’t tear your gaze from his.

There’s a rougher edge to his voice as he asks, “Have you used it and thought about me?”

You lick your lips, his eyes following the movement. “Yes.”

“How many times.”

“A lot.”

“Were you thinking about me when you used it on Monday.”

Your mouth drops open as you stare at him, a smile trying to break through even as you press your thighs together. “You bastard, you were listening—”

A lazy smirk settles on his lips as he tilts his head. “I heard, there’s a difference.”

“Sure, they said it was meant to be whisper-quiet so—”

His lips capture yours, his free hand sliding around you and settling on your lower back, pulling you hard against him. You moan into his mouth as his tongue finds yours, stroking. Moving you backwards, the kiss breaks as he starts to pull at your clothes, reaching his hand out to set the toy on the sink.

“It’s waterproof, bring it,” you say quickly, slightly breathlessly.

“Perfect.”

Cupping his face, you pull his head towards yours and kiss him fiercely, stopping only so he can remove your clothes as you push his jeans and briefs down. Stumbling backwards, he keeps you upright and moving and you have no idea where he’s taking you until you feel the heat of the water close by, and then cool tile on your back. Releasing a breath at the sensation of it, he takes the opportunity to sweep his tongue into your mouth before his head dips and his lips go to your neck, the warm water pouring over your bodies.

Your eyes remain closed, your arms around him, gripping at him, as you moan, and then you feel the tip of the toy at your inner thigh, vibrating gently and nearing your pussy.

“Tell me what I do when you think about me,” he murmurs against your jaw, just as the vibrator glides against your slit.

Sometime later, when he’s wrung every orgasm he tells you you can give him out of you, with the help of his cock and the vibrator, you’re trying to slow your heart rate and recover, your head against his chest. 

As you catch your breath, he washes every inch of your body gently, his fingers soothing and massaging. He presses soft kisses to your lips every now and then, too, making you hum with each one.

Afterwards, he wraps you up in a large, fluffy towel and steers you out into the bedroom. You start to get some feeling back into your legs when you lie back on the bed, sighing contentedly, your eyes closed. You feel him lie beside you, kissing at your cheek and forehead gently.

Parting the towel, his finger tips glide up your thigh before he pauses. Opening your eyes, you watch him frown lightly, and you glance down, looking at the bruises on your knee and thigh and hip, a few more fresh ones blossoming from the shower. It never hurts when he grips at you.

Looking up at you, his frown lingers. “I did that, didn’t I?”

Reaching out, your finger tips caress his cheek as you smile softly. “Yeah, but I like it.”

“Really?” He looks doubtful, maybe even a little sheepish.

Gripping his forearm, you tug him closer and he lets you, your lips gently meeting his.

“I like it a lot,” you murmur, your finger tips stroking through his wet hair.

He smiles and relaxes against you, kissing you lingeringly.

A knock at the door has your head drawing back swiftly and him sighing.

Bucky’s voice drifts through from the other side. 

“Hey, I’m guessin’ you two need some food now, right?”

You look at your reflection in the mirror, your heart quickening a little.

You’re nervous. Only getting only more and more nervous by the minute.

A glance at the clock tells you it’s 7:26pm. You’d put off getting ready until the last minute.

Releasing a long breath, trying to steady your breathing, you adjust the dress you’d chosen. You’d opted for the vintage dress, in all its satin gold, flutter sleeves glory. Turning slightly, you inspect the back. Material is gathered at your lower back, falling down in the smallest of trains.

Turning your body forward again, you swallow and nod at yourself.

You can do this. You won’t be alone.

Slipping your shoes on, you then move to the bed and scoop your phone up.

There’s a message in the group chat:

A smile on your lips, you answer with:

There’s a message from Aaron, too. A guilty knot twists in your stomach. You haven’t really thought about him much, he hasn’t really messaged you over the last couple of days, but he sent one an hour ago saying:

You pause, before answering with:

Pushing away any more thoughts about him and the weird feeling it gives you to message him now, you slip your phone into your clutch bag.

Beside the gun Nat had given you. Just in case. 

Taking a breath, you then head for the door.

Opening it, you peer out. Agents Hoskins and Glazer are stood by a window, gazing out, and Steve and Bucky sit in chairs opposite the TV, watching what must be the livestream of people arriving for the party. Bucky’s still in civilian clothing, but Steve had changed before you then gone out to check a few things with Bucky.

God, he’s gorgeous in his classic black and white tuxedo with a silk red bowtie.

Inhaling another breath, you step out and close the door quietly, moving across to where they’re sat. They hear you approach and turn their heads, Bucky smiling widely, and Steve—

Steve takes you all in, head to toe, awe passing across his features as he smiles.

“Wow...”

“Thanks,” you murmur as your face flushes, your bag clasped infront of you.

“That’s the dress, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Your smile widens almost shyly as he holds your gaze.

“Give us a twirl,” Bucky calls and you tut as you look at him, but you’re smiling still and you turn slowly, Bucky clapping as Steve chuckles.

“Gorgeous,” Bucky announces as Steve just gazes at you, and he opens his mouth to—

There’s a knock at the front door and then a nano-second later the door opens and all your heads turn to watch Nat enter, looking fucking resplendent in a flowing, halter-neck, midnight-blue gown, her red hair tumbling down her shoulders. You can see agents in the hallway behind her, but Sam enters, too, in a gorgeously patterned suit jacket and black trousers.

“All right—” Nat begins as Steve stands, but then Sam catches sight of you both.

“Oh, yes, look at you both, God damn gorgeous—”

“Yeah, you both look amazing,” Nat interrupts, swiftly continuing, “Now, you both need to wear an earpiece, okay, just in case and so we all know what’s going on at all times. Only we three will be able to talk to each other, though...”

An agent is already moving towards you, securing the tiniest of earpieces into your ear. She does the same with Steve as Nat carries on.

“... as you’ll be wearing these bracelets, too. Stops the line getting jammed and means I can communicate with you both directly. Press down on the gem and talk and we’ll all be able to hear you.”

The agent clasps a thin, solid gold band around your wrist, a blue gem in the middle.

Nat nods, and presses two fingers against her ear, and you hear her voice also come through your earpiece as she speaks. “All right, everyone, this is it, you know what to do.”

Removing her fingers, Nat gestures for you and Steve to follow Sam through the door.

Fucking hell.

All right, it’s time.

“Have fun, you, two,” Bucky says, and you look to him, frowning.

“Are you not coming?”

“No, I’m gonna be elsewhere.”

Oh, right.

Making yourself smile, you nod. “See you later.”

“Absolutely.” You must look as nervous as you feel because he’s smiling gently and his features have softened and he hasn’t cracked a single joke.

His eyes lift to meet Steve’s and he nods at him.

“See you later, Buck,” Steve says, and then you feel him take your hand, squeezing it lightly.

Swallowing, you then move towards the door with him.  

You’re quiet as the small procession heads down to the garage. Steve is, too, while the agents all murmur to one another, Nat murmuring to Sam. Going over plans, probably. For if everything goes right. For if everything goes wrong.

You find yourself once more climbing into an SUV, but Sam drives now as Nat takes the passenger seat, you and Steve behind. He’s still holding your hand.

Nat makes calls for the whole journey, double-checking people are in certain positions, asking if people are there, asking where Stark is, asking if anything’s caught their attention. You block it out, gazing out of the window.

Traffic is busy, as expected, but it thins out a little as you near the Tower, the street cordoned off for the event and people wanting to avoid it. Looking out, you get your first glimpse of the Tower in person. It’s huge, which you knew already, but up close it’s even bigger than you’d expected, stretching right up towards the sky.

And before it, leading up to the front doors, is a red carpet and crowds of people and paparazzi held back by metal barriers, cameras flashing every second. As the SUV slows to join the queue of cars, each inching forward as people get out and greet the crowd, you grip your bag and Steve’s hand.

Oh, fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

This is it.

Before you know it, it’s all happening too fast, the SUV is at the carpet. Nat gets out and Steve’s hand leaves yours as he gets out, too. People scream and cameras flash wildly at the sight of him, and he smiles politely and waves, and then he’s turning to you and offering his hand. Swallowing hard, you take it gladly, holding it tightly, and slide across the seats. Sliding out, as soon as your shoes touch the ground another surge of screams sound as the cameras flash at you, and you fix a smile on your lips.

As you straighten and step forward, barely feeling the cold, Steve closes the door behind you and then Nat’s there, gesturing towards the stairs that lead up to the main walkway to the Tower. You step onto the red carpet, climbing the stairs, your free hand holding the skirt of your dress up a little so you don’t step on it, and the screaming is still going on.

Moving off the stairs, you can barely hear what people are saying as you and Steve start to walk down the carpet, Nat keeping you moving. 

“... love you!”

“... sign my...”

“... please!”

“... congratulations!”

“... Steve...!”

A few local celebrities and even some major celebrities are there, too, signing autographs and talking to people and taking selfies, but Nat isn’t letting you pause, which you’re very grateful for. Your smile remains fixed in place, though, and Steve waves a few times, barely feeling how tight your grip is on his hand.

There’s a sponsor stand towards the end of the carpet, near the detectors that have been set up by the front doors, one side filled with the logos of companies that provide the Avengers and the Tower with what they need or sponsor them, all the guests having to stop before it and have a photograph taken.

Nat brings you both to a halt with a raised hand, a small queue having formed, and Steve’s thumb brushes against your skin. Gazing up at him, he smiles softly and you return it, reminding yourself to take a breath. 

“You okay?” he murmurs, leaning his head a little closer so you can hear him.

You nod, squeezing his hand. “Yeah, I just...” You wrinkle your nose, leaning closer to him as your smile widens a little. “... Wish we were at home, y’know?”

You expect him to laugh, maybe, or at least for his own smile to grow, but he just nods after a moment, then his lips lifts a little more.

“Yeah, I—”

Another set of screams come from the right side of the carpet, behind him, but its not in delight.

Stiffening, you stare over his shoulder, hearing a commotion of some kind but unable to see it because he’s suddenly turning, pushing you behind him and shielding you. You hear maybe two, three metal barriers fall, clanging together, as people continue to scream. Your hands grip the back of Steve’s tuxedo jacket, and he moves a hand back, resting it against your hip.

You can’t see what’s happening but you can see people running up the carpet, agents and security guards going to whatever’s happening, some forming a circle around you and Steve, and you hear yelling and grunting and what must be knuckles connecting with flesh, and then you do it, you peer around Steve and you see them.

Three men in civilian clothing lying on the ground, struggling and thrashing against the hold they’ve been placed in by agents. Nat has her knee on the back of one of them, a large knife with a serrated side a foot away from his hand on the carpet. As he tries to reach for it, her other leg lashes out, her heel striking his hand and he cries out. As an agent takes over, handcuffing his hands behind his back, she stands, her gaze sweeping the area. There’s a gap in the crowd, fallen barriers before it, where the men must have charged through. You’re gripping Steve’s arm now, staring, and he’s still keeping you behind him.

“America is dead!” one of the men shouts, making you jolt as your eyes dart to him. He’s thrashing, trying to get up even though his hands and legs have been tied, and he’s staring right at you and Steve.

You faintly recognise him, but before you can place him he’s being hauled up to his feet and dragged down the carpet, groups of people giving a wide berth, pressed against the barrier.

"Suspects are being taken away. Sam, they’re coming to you.” You suddenly hear Nat’s voice in your ear, and it takes you a second to remember the earpiece.

As the other two men are taken away, agents dispersing to talk to people in the crowd, Nat turns and heads towards you. The group of agents around you remain, and Nat lowers her voice as she enters the small circle.

“We've identified two of them,” she murmurs to Steve, “They’re flagged on our databases.” She then looks at you. “Y/N, one of them used to work at your office as a security guard.”

You nod slightly. “I thought I recognised him.” You swallow hard. “Is that... Is that it? Is this...” You leave ‘done’ unsaid, yet you know the answer before you even hear it.

Nat’s lips press together for a moment before she shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

Steve’s hand on your hip is now sliding around your waist as his body turns, holding you against him, and you lean into him, your heart sinking. You’d desperately hoped that that would be it, that this group was actually amateur, had done something reckless in a desperate attempt, but...

Anxiety is fluttering in your stomach and you just want to be home.

Nat steps back and gestures for you both to head towards the front doors of the building. Your feet start moving, though your brain is slow to catch up.

Shove it away, shove it away, shove it away...

Agents hold the doors open for you, and you both pass through the detectors without a sound, and then you’re stepping into the foyer of the Avengers Tower. A few people are dotted about, trying to see what’s going on, but you’re ushered to an elevator. Agents pile in with you and you close your eyes, just focusing on your breathing. Steve’s arm has remained around you, and his finger tips gently press into your side. Looking up at him, you give him a light smile, knowing he’s silently asking how you are. 

He doesn’t return the smile, though, but after a moment his head bows and he presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, making your eyes close. It’s a lovely, tender gesture, but at the same time his arm is leaving you.

It feels like a goodbye.

As his lips leave you and you look up at him to try and see his expression, your heart pounding, the elevator doors slide open and he’s taking your hand. The agents step out and you follow them down a corridor to another foyer area, some people milling about, talking, laughing and drinking. They glance towards you both as you pass, murmuring to each other and gasping in delight.

Two large doors are open on the other side and within is the party. It’s full and noisy, a 70s disco song blaring, and the agents start to fan out a little as you near the door. Entering, your heart pounds. The room is huge.

There’s two floors, the upper one looking down upon a dance floor, bar and a sea of people, while it houses it’s own bar, a wide balcony and tables to sit at. Christmas trees are in every corner, stretching right up towards the ceiling, and they’re covered in decorations verging on tacky. Tinsel and other decorations adorn the walls and railings of the stairs leading up to the next floor and there’s even a snow machine in one corner.

The agents are nowhere to be seen now, blending in with the crowd, and Steve must have caught sight of someone because as you glance up at him, he smiles and he’s moving and you’re going with him, keeping ahold of his hand. You hear some whisperings from people as you pass them, feel their eyes on you.

“Is that her?”

“What’s her name again?”

“Oh my God, I need to get a photo.”

“That’s her?”

You ignore any more murmurings as the crowd thins out and you suddenly find yourself stood before two burgundy couches, on a platform, and your throat is suddenly dry and you’re trying to swallow and calm your breathing because—

You’re about to be introduced to the rest of the fucking Avengers and the SHIELD team.

“Steve Rogers.” Tony Stark raises his eyebrows as he grins and stands, holding his arms out. He’s dressed in a white tuxedo with a green bowtie that has tiny baubles on it.

“Hey, Tony, hey, guys. Great party.”

You’re smiling, staring at Tony Stark, trying not to look at Pepper Potts, Bruce Banner, Maria Hill, Jim Rhodes and Happy Hogan.

“Oh, thanks. Added my own personal touch to it, I have touched all of this.”

“I’m sure.” Steve’s arm is suddenly back around you again as he looks at you, and you hope you don’t look as fucking terrified as you feel. Smiling softly, he continues, “This is Y/N.”

He doesn’t introduce you as his fiancée, probably because, as you gather from their looks, they all know.

Tony’s eyes meet yours, looking at you over his glasses. “Wow, look at you, hi. Charmed, pleasured, honoured to meet the future Mrs America.”

“Thank you,” you say with a slight laugh as you look between them all, nodding a greeting as they either say hello or nod back.

Placing a hand on his chest, he settles the other on Pepper’s shoulder, who lets out a sigh. “Rest assured, Pep’ and I will pay for everything, of course, every single thing, from the American flags with your faces on them to the American flag you’ll be wearing as a wedding dress, I’m guessing?”

You laugh a little easier this time as Pepper knocks his hand away, trying not to smile. “Stop it, Tony.”

“You’re the worst,” Steve also sighs, his arm no longer around you, both hands going into his pockets.

Don’t think about it.

“Am I? I think I’ve nailed the theme you want perfectly—”

“Steve!” a voice booms to the right, like a crack of thunder—

Oh. Ha.

Thor, the God of Thunder approaches, beaming from ear to ear, looking very handsome in a grey suit. “Hello, Steve, good to see you!” Rounding the couch, he embraces Steve in a large hug, rocking him slightly.

“You, too, Thor,” Steve chuckles as he pats his back. When Thor releases him, clapping him on the shoulder with a force that would probably knock the average person off their feet, Steve gestures at you. “This is Y/N.”

Do I bow, what the hell do I do.

You settle for just sticking your hand out towards the god, beaming. “Hello, it’s wonderful to meet you.”

Thor tilts his head, his grin lingering. “Oh, this is the lovely lady who has charmed our Captain?” Taking your hand, he lifts it and presses a gentle kiss to it, and the mirth dancing in his eyes has your beam relaxing into a genuine smile. “I can see why he has been so charmed.”

“All right, all right, ease up.” Steve smacks the back of his hand against his shoulder as Thor releases your hand with a laugh, and you’re about to speak when a voice cuts in.

“Who wants to get drunk off rich people’s champagne, huh?”

Clint Barton has suddenly appeared, a tray of countless glasses of champagne in his hands, grinning.

They all nearly lunge forward with sighs of ‘yes please, thank you,’ and Thor takes two, handing one to you, before taking another second one for himself.

“No throwing up this time from anyone, please, okay,” Tony announces before he raises his glass and leads you all in a toast.

“To Christmas and good cheer and good will and drink to all people!”

You cheers with them, finding your smile is easier, and you’re actually starting to relax. 

Alcohol will help with that, you think as you take a very long sip.

Pepper gestures you over, patting the seat beside her that Tony had vacated as he moves closer to Steve, and you sit, striking up a conversation with her, Maria and Bruce. 

Over the next half an hour, they’re all very kind to you, asking you what you do, how you are, about your life, and you’re fascinated by everything they have to say. Thor joins in at one point, and has your cheeks and stomach hurting from how much you laugh at his stories.

You accept a refill of your drink every time it’s offered, finding it’s soothing your nerves.

This is actually a good party.

70s and 80s music is playing, blaring, more like, with the occasional Christmas song, and everyone is having a good, good time. Especially you.

You’re now sat with Happy and Clint, Maria and Pepper having gone to dance, and you hear someone call your name gently. Turning your head, you see Sam, smiling lightly at you and you gasp as you get up, grinning and moving around the table towards him. Hugging him tightly, he chuckles slightly, his hands patting your back, and when you pull back, your hands settle on his arms, your grin remaining. 

“Hello, you!”

“Hey,” he answers a little quieter, his hands also gently gripping yours. “You havin’ fun, huh?”

You release a breath as you nod. “Yesss, sure am.” Your eyes then widen. “Oh, wait ‘til I tell you,” you pause to lick your lips, “Thor says he’s gonna take me to Asgard, and Clint says he’s gonna show me how to use a bow, and Happy laughed at one of my jokes, and Pepper’s so nice, and Bruce is, too, he did a tequila shot with me—”

“Okay, okay,” Sam laughs, and you don’t catch the concern in his eyes. “So, where’s Steve? He done a shot with you yet?”

He notices your grin falter for a brief moment before you’re smiling again, tilting your head and looking over to where Steve stands with Thor and Tony, laughing about something Thor just said.

“Oh, no, he’s talking with them, he’s just, we’re just giving each other some space.” 

Truthfully, you haven’t seen Steve look at you once in the last half an hour.

He’s pulling away.

Fuck off , shove it away.

Releasing another breath, shoving it all away, your grin returns as you look at Sam. “Will you do a shot with me?”

He takes a breath with a small smile. “I can get you a drink of water?”

You pull a face. “Oh, boo... actually my throat is quite dry, that would be great.” Brightening, you release him as he nods.

“All right, wait here.”

You nod and give him a small salute before sitting on the edge of the couch as he heads off, your hands in your lap. Your gaze follows him, admiring his suit jacket once again because it is gorgeous, and he smiles as they cheer and greet him, which makes you smile. He talks to them for a minute or so before gesturing to the bar, and then he taps Steve’s arm, inclining his head, and both of them head towards it. Sam leans a little closer to him, and you can tell whatever he’s murmuring, it isn’t good.

Shove it away.

Looking away, you watch a few people dancing before realising you need the bathroom. Leaning over, you grab your bag that’s beside Happy, who instantly turns his head to you.

“Where are you goin’?”

You point two fingers to your right. “Bathroom, am I allowed?”

He nods and you beam before turning and moving off of the platform. Moving through the crowd, you nod your head to the beat of the song, mouthing along to the words. An agent you recognise from the hotel suddenly appears before you and before she can speak you ask her where the bathroom is. She leads you out of the room, noise levels dropping, and points across the foyer to a small queue of people outside a door.

Thanking her, you move across the floor and join it.

Clasping your bag in front of you with both hands, you sigh quietly, focusing on the music that you can still hear.

I wonder if there’s food upstairs... Probably is... I’d kill for some—

“Oh, excuse me, dear?”

Turning your head, you smile instantly at seeing an older woman approach, a warm smile on her lips. 

She looks a little sheepish as she laughs slightly. “I’m so sorry to disturb you, but you’re Captain Rogers’s fiancée, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am.” For who knows how much longer. “Hello, lovely to meet you.”

“Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you!”

You shake her hand and she looks beside herself with joy. 

“So, what do you do here, then?”

Your smile lingers as you shake your head. “Oh, no, I don’t work here, I work at June & Mayflower Publishing, if you’ve heard of it?”

Her brow had started to dip slightly, before she brightens again. “Oh, so you’re a book publisher?”

“No, I’m Head of Marketing.”

“Oh.”

There’s silence. Your smile is falling as she looks at you, and you don’t even want to speculate at what she’s thinking.

You’re speaking before you even realise. “I still read all the books though, I need to get a feel of them to know how to sell them.”

“Right, yes, of course,” she smiles politely. “I’m sure it’s a lovely job, it’s just not what I was expecting, I was expecting something...”

‘Better’ or ‘more’ is left unsaid. 

And you’re speaking before you realise it again. “Right, whatever the fuck that means.”

She blinks, her mouth dropping open, and you smile widely.

“I’ll... I’ll leave you be.”

Watching her swiftly walk away, your smile drops and you exhale a breath.

Shove it away.

No one else has joined the queue, so by the time you get in to the bathroom, someone else passing you by as you enter, you’re alone.

Good.

... Why is it whenever you get into a bathroom, you realise how tipsy you are.

Blowing out a breath and entering a stall, you close the door and lock it, place your bag on a shelf and start to hike your dress up.

The bathroom door opens and two women enter, their heels clicking on the wooden floor.

“... right?”

You hear them stand by the mirrors, unzipping bags.

“Yeah, I just don’t get it.”

“Peggy I got, first love, you know.”

You freeze. 

“Sharon, uh, she’s gorgeous and, like, this super agent or whatever, and I read he’s been on a couple of dates since then with other agents but... this girl? I don’t get it.”

“Neither do,” one says, talking in a way that sounds like she’s re-doing her make-up. “Then again, we don’t know her.”

“Yeah, of course, totally, but... you just get a feel for these things, don’t you? I just... I didn’t see Steve with someone like her, you know? I thought he’d go with another agent or someone high powered, like someone who does stuff, you know?”

As the other woman hums her agreement, you stare at the floor, the skirt of your dress still gripped in your hands.

You can’t shove it away.

They’ve struck right at your Achilles’ heel. Said all the reasons, in your saddest and lowest moments, you’d told yourself you couldn’t be with Steve, that he wouldn’t think of you that way, not just that it was because he was your friend.

You can’t help but indulge your insecurities, thinking about what people think of you, how they must look at you and think ‘why her?’, what Steve must think when he hears that because he must have heard people say it. You and Steve haven’t exactly but a label on this new version of your relationship, but it’s been made pretty clear by you both that you’re together and... The life that could be flashes before your eyes; avoiding social media, constantly telling yourself you’re worthy, ignoring looks and words, ignoring assumptions, challenging views before being confronted with another, no privacy...

Maybe those three glasses of champagne and the shot of tequila hadn’t been a good idea.

You faintly hear the women leave, still talking, the door closing behind them.

It’s several minutes before you can muster up the strength, courage and energy to leave the bathroom.

Gripping your bag tightly, you stand outside of the door, staring across the foyer at the open doors. The music’s still blaring, people are still laughing, still chatting, still having a good time.

I want to go home.

Movement in the corner of your eye brings your gaze to a small group, and you notice Nat at the centre of it. She’s talking swiftly to the group of, you assume, agents, her features tight. 

You frown, your eyes moving between them, trying to gauge their reactions and see what—

“Y/N?”

Your head turns to find Steve standing a few feet away, his hands in his pockets, a light frown on his features.

“Steve.” There’s a touch of surprise to your tone as you look at him, and his frown deepens a little.

“You okay?”

You lick your lips, your heart starting to beat faster. “Uhm... Can I have a word?”

He’s still frowning. “Sure, where—”

“This way.”

You’re already walking, heading to your right down a hallway, away from the party. You hear him follow behind you a moment later. You have no idea where you’re going, but you take the next left and the floor opens out into some kind of balcony walkway, elevators to your left, a glass railing that overlooks the main foyer to your right.

Clearing your throat, you stop and turn, clasping your bag against your stomach.

His eyes linger on you, concern filling them as he comes to a stop. “What’s goin’ on?”

You clear your throat again, licking your suddenly dry lips, and shift. “Steve, I, uh... I, I don’t think you should be with me.”

There. It’s out in the world now. The beginning of the end.

His mouth moves slightly as he stares at you, his frown deeper now. “... What?”

You shift again, your breathing slightly unsteady as you try to keep your heart together. “I’m, uhm... Well, for lack of a better word, I’m normal.”

He continues to stare at you. “... Okay?”

You shrug, finding it tricky to take a deep enough breath that you need. “I’m a normal person, I’m not, I’m not a SHIELD agent, I’m not some sort of, I’m not a superhero, I know we see each other a lot and have known each other for quite a while but maybe you don’t see me enough because I’m, I’m so normal, I get up in the morning, turn my alarm off, get to work and deal with shitty people all day, actually that’s not fair, most of them are actually really nice, and, uhm, then I go home and that’s it. I don’t change the world, I don’t have an impact on peoples lives, really, and I’m not, I’m not someone you should be with, Steve.”

His frown is gone, but you can’t tell what he’s feeling now as silence lingers.

“Why,” he says after several moments.

Your eyebrows raise as you lift a hand. “Did you not hear everything I just said? You’re America’s hero, you’re you, you’re so good and kind and fucking gorgeous and just a good person and I’m just... I’m just me.”

You hate that that statement lingers in the air as silence falls again. You hate that you’ve worked so hard to love yourself yet the world has made you think you’re not enough. You hate that you’re doing this, sabotaging a good thing.

Steve exhales and his shoulders seem to drop a little even as he smiles softly. “You are you, Y/N. And that’s what makes you so damn incredible.” He then releases a slightly exasperated breath, his hands going to his hips and you realise suddenly that he’s wrestling with something. “Y/N, if... if anything that’s why I don’t think you should be with me.”

Despite everything you’ve just said, it’s like a slap in the face.

“What.” 

He shrugs as he gazes at you, resignation written across his features. “You like your life, Y/N. You like going out to bars and restaurants and not being bothered or being the centre of attention, and with me...” He shakes his head. “When we were talking about being able to go out to places like normal people, I just, I don’t know if that’s always gonna be possible with me. It isn’t, in fact.” He exhales another, shorter breath, swallowing lightly. “This is my life. There’s gonna be threats, and parties and public events and people staring and normal just isn’t possible with me.”

In that moment, as anger and despair and love surges within you, you know you’ve been a fool.

Stepping towards him, your arms at your sides, your features softening, you shake your head. “I don’t care. I don’t want to go to any of those places, bars, restaurants, if you aren’t there. This week, this has shown me what it is like to be with you and I meant it when I said it and I mean it now, I’ll take it all if it means I get to be with you and have you in my life.” You smile softly, taking a step closer as you faintly hear an elevator ‘ding’, the doors sliding open. “I do like my life, but I like you being a part of it more, I like my life because you’re in it, Steve, because I—”

Steve’s arms shoot out towards you, his hands pushing—

The ground trembles as an explosion erupts. 

Glass shatters and rains down and people scream as metal groans and pieces of the building fall.

You don’t know what happened, but when you next open your eyes, you’re on the ground and you can’t work out if you’re in the same spot or if you’ve been thrown some distance.

Your ears are ringing and one side of your body aches from when you must have landed hard, and there’s something wet trickling down your temple and cheek.

Groaning, unable to take in a deep enough breath, you lift your head. There’s dust everywhere, filling the air, debris scattered around, the faint, disembodied sound of people shouting and screaming, and an orange flickering some distance away.

Managing to push yourself up, your arms shaking, you’re unsteady on your feet, your head spinning. Hissing as you touch your fingers to your temple, feeling the wetness, you try not to think about the wound you feel.

Coughing on the dust, you move forward, trying to see through it and the darkness. The orange flickering is ahead, and you start to feel the heat of it. You trip over something and hiss out a breath in surprise, looking down. Your bag lies on the ground and you bend down to pick it up, your head pounding. Wiping the dust from it, you stare at it, your brain trying to catch up with what’s just happened.

“Y/N!”

A voice you recognise reaches your ears. Lifting your head, a shape moves towards you, calling your name again.

Steve’s there suddenly, reaching out for you, grabbing your hand, and he’s bent slightly, probably to avoid whatever horrors may come next and to see through the dust, his bowtie gone, and you take his hand instantly. 

“This way!”

Your feet move as he pulls you along, manoeuvring around rubble and glass. You can’t see where he’s leading you but he knows this building better than most so you just follow behind him, trying to keep up.

He opens a door and pulls you through, and he releases your hand as he turns to close it. You take a few more steps into the dust free room, coughing again. As you massage your chest and grimace slightly, you register where you are.  You thought he might lead you into a stairwell or a safe-room, but you’re in a conference room, the normality and blandness of it almost absurd. There’s a long table, maybe about fifteen chairs around it, no windows, a screen on—

“Y/N.”

You freeze, eyes wide.

You had recognised the voice before.

Now you realise it hadn’t been Steve’s. 

And you know who it is.

Turning, your hands shaking, you look at him.

“... Joe?”

He’d been looking at you, his heart pounding, despair and relief fighting within him with every word you said because yes, you shouldn’t be with him, because it’s not a normal life, and you deserve a safe, normal, threat-free life, and he knows he can’t provide that.

As you’d argued against your own words, though, after he’d made his statements, he just couldn’t help the ache of love in his chest. Was it selfish to want you? Selfish to wish you would be with him anyway? Despite everything? He’d told himself it was, and that just made his heart hurt even more.

He’d let you speak, gazing at you, fighting with himself, and he’d heard the elevator arrive, the doors opening. His eyes had lifted from you for a second, seeing who it was out of habit, before they’d returned to you.

And then he’d looked back.

It had been a man in tactical gear, nothing like SHIELD agents wore, and he’d been staring at him, his hand going into his pocket.

He’d had just enough time to shove you out of the way before the man had thrown something in his direction.

Coughing on the dust that swirls in the air, he calls your name out, staring up at the balcony, hoping, praying, he’d gotten you out of the way.

His earpiece crackles to life, and his heart lifts.

“Steve? Y/N? Are you okay?”

Nat.

He finds the gem on the bracelet and presses down. “Nat, where are you?”

“I’m on the tenth floor, they’re coming down from the roof, we’re blocking off the levels from here. The explosion was—”

“Right where we were.”

“What?”

He’s moving over the rubble and glass now, heading for the nearby stairwell.

“We were round the corner from the party, a guy was in the elevator and he threw something, a grenade, I think, not strong enough to kill me but strong enough.”

“Jesus, are you both okay?”

“I am, but I don’t have Y/N with me.”

Neither of them say it, but both of them are very much aware that you should be able to hear them, and they haven’t heard from you.

Steve opens the stairwell door, finding it dark, the light not coming on, and starts to move up the stairs, keeping his voice low so it doesn’t echo. “I’m heading back up there now, what’s going on?”

He can hear people crying and calling out in the background when she speaks.

“Well, they’ve killed the power but Stark obviously has a back-up generator in place, we’re just being careful about where we’re using it. We’re getting everyone out, it seems like it’s all clear out the front for now.”

“Well, they only want one hostage.”

“Yeah, and they’re not gonna get him.”

Reaching the floor you were both on, he opens the door and steps out, the corridor dark, the dust still trying to settle not helping matters. 

“Steve?” Nat prompts when he doesn’t answer.

“Yeah, sorry,” he murmurs, moving a little more cautiously. “I’m where the explosion was.”

“All right, Barnes is on his way down, keep me updated.”

“Okay.”

Silence falls and he steps out onto the balcony you’d led him to. The floor is scorched from where the explosion went off, part of the elevator on fire, and rubble, debris and glass cover the floor. Stepping carefully, he moves along, staring at the dust on the ground for any indications of where you might be. There’s some prints in it of shoes, leading away, back behind him, but that could have been from someone else because there’s two different ones, and, then... further down, a disturbance in it that suggests someone was on the floor and got up. 

It has to be you. 

Pausing, he returns his attention to the shoe marks, his gaze following them back to where he’d come from. 

Who the hell is with you?

You can hear Nat and Steve in your ear, but you try to tune them out. 

You want to press the gem on your bracelet so they can hear but you’re frozen, staring at the gun Joe has in his hand, wearing a cheap suit. There’s something else in his other hand, but you can’t make out what it is. He’s not aimed the gun at you, but when your eyes return to meet his, there’s a hardness to them that’s unfamiliar.

“What the hell are you doing here, Joe?”

“My job.”

He tosses what’s in his hand onto the table behind you and your eyes follow it. It’s some kind of a thin, floppy mask—

Oh, no.

Steve had told you about this kind of technology before.

Joe had used it to put Steve’s face on his own, but how the hell did he have access to this?

Your eyes quickly dart back to him. He’s still staring at you, unmoving, blocking the door.

“Your job?”

The gun twitches at his side slightly as a faint smile appears. “They recruited me. Head-hunted me, actually. Said I have what it takes, that I am valuable to the operation.”

Your heart thumps against your chest.

Oh my God.

You swallow hard. “The... the group that wants to kill Steve recruited you?”

He nods, an arrogant, satisfied smirk starting to pull at his lips. “Yeah. When they told me their plan, I thought it’d be a good way to make some quick money, easy, too. All I had to do was turn up, get you alone somehow when they created the distraction, and then wait for them to come and get you.”

He’s enjoying this.

“Come and get me? Why?”

He shrugs. “You’re Steve’s girl, right? He won’t want you in danger, will he?”

He’s right... Oh, fuck, he’s right .

Your throat is dry, your head is pounding, your heart is racing.

Get out of this. Get out somehow. Distract him, think, think, think.

And then it comes to you.

Maybe it shouldn’t delight you as much as it does that you know how to hurt him... but then again you want to really fucking hurt him.

Exhaling a breath, hoping he doesn’t hear how shaky it is, you tilt your head.

“Oh, Joe...” you sigh pityingly.

Faint confusion flashes across his features, his brow dipping. “... What?”

You give a small, patronising smile. “You don’t realise yet?”

He’s silent, and you can practically see the cogs working, trying to figure out what he’s missed.

You sigh again, a corner of your mouth lifting. “They want you to take the fall.”

His frown deepens. “What?”

“Oh, they’ve really played you for a fool.” You don’t know how you’re keeping your voice so steady, even as your shaking hands grip your bag. “Who better to take the fall if it all goes wrong than the ex-boyfriend?” You let out a small scoff, trying to bolster yourself as much as rattle him. “We’re in the Avengers Tower, Joe. Do you really think you’re going to get out of here?”

He looks at you, silent, hand twitching.

You hold his gaze, trying to look as sympathetic as possible, your earpiece silent.

And then he smiles.

“You’re underestimating us.”

Your heart stops. “No, I—”

He points at his chest. “You’re underestimating me. I’m not an idiot.”

You smile quickly. “I know, I know you’re not—”

“You never acted like it.” His sharp words cut you off, silencing you. His jaw moves as he huffs out a breath. “... I saw how you’d look at me sometimes, like you were, like you were cringing. Embarrassed of me. And you never invited me to hang out.”

You frown, swallowing. “What?”

He gestures at you. “With you and Steve. When I’d say why don’t we do something, and you said you already had plans to meet with Steve you never invited me. Why?”

Your mouth is moving as you desperately search for an answer that will appease him. “I—”

“Is it because you were ashamed of me?” He’s staring at you, eyebrows raised. “Think I wasn’t good enough to meet him, huh?”

You’re shaking your head, trying to smile. “No, no, not at all, he’s just, he’s just a private man—”

“How long have you been fucking him?”

A rush of breath leaves you as you pause, your lips parted. “What?”

His jaw moves, his features tight as he tilts his head. “Were you fucking him when we were together?”

“No.”

He scoffs, tapping the gun against his leg. “You sure about that? Sure you want to lie to me right now?”

Your breath is caught in your throat but you still manage to implore, “I’m telling you the truth, I didn’t cheat on you, I—”

Gunfire erupts from somewhere close outside the room.

Both of you jerk at the sound, you stiffening and staring at the door, Joe spinning and raising the gun.

“What’s that, what’s happening?” you demand and he stutters, his hand shaking, “I-I don’t, I don’t know, this wasn’t part of the plan—”

The door bursts open, making Joe stumble back as you do, a chair knocking against your lower back. Some kind of smoke pours into the room, making your eyes sting, and you cough on it as you quickly go to cover your mouth.

Joe splutters, too, bending slightly.

A voice bursts through on your earpiece, startling you again.

“Nat, Bucky and I have got a group of ‘em here, they’ve got a lot of firepower...”

Steve.

He’s close by, he’s so close—

A figure enters the room, a covering over their mouth and nose, and their arm lashes out, knocking something against Joe’s head and he cries out, falling to his knees.

Clutching his head, he groans and you stare at the figure as you cough, gunfire continuing outside. All you can make out is that they’re in black tactical gear, a handgun strapped to their thigh, and half of their face is covered.

“Come on!” the voice shouts, reaching out to you and they grip your arm, making you move.

Pulling you out of the room, you can’t stop to pause because they instantly start to move down the corridor. You try to look behind you, the gunfire rapid and unrelenting, but you can barely see what’s happening. The smoke starts to thin out as you reach the end of the corridor and the person pulls you around it before releasing you.

Your throat is prickling from the smoke and you swallow a couple of times as you catch your breath.

It has to be an agent who’s saved you, it—

You look up at the person as they pull the face covering, a bandanna, down and— 

Your heart stops.

Aaron looks at you, silent, his jaw tight.

“Oh my God...” You can’t take a deep enough breath as you stare at him, taking a step back. “... What the fuck are you doing here, Aaron?”

He presses his lips together, then grips your arm again, pulling you down the corridor.

Your mind racing, with the movement your bracelet shifts and you swiftly curl your fingers, catch it, and press them against the gem.

 Swallowing thickly, you trying to keep pace with him as he strides, staring at him. “You’re with them, aren’t you? Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe.”

Steve’s voice, the frantic tone making your heart ache, sounds in your ear. “Y/N?!”

Nat’s voice sounds a split-second later. “What’s going on?!”

“Aaron’s got her.” You can hear the anger and despair in his voice, the regret.

“What?”

Get them information, keep him talking.

They go silent as you speak, wanting to get every detail they can.

“Why are you doing this?”

He’s leading you down corridors easily, like he knows exactly where he’s going, and he doesn’t say a word.

You lick your dry lips, staring at doors you pass, trying to find something you can use to identify where you are, but there’s nothing, no plaques, nothing that stands out.

“Aaron, please.”

When he remains silent, you start to try to pull away, digging your heels into the floor. He clenches his jaw and just uses his strength to keep you moving. It’s not until you start to thrash slightly, trying to wrench yourself out of his hold, gritting your teeth, that he stops abruptly and grips both of your arms, looking down at you.

“Hey, hey, stop it, stop.”

His hands tightening makes you pause, your jaw clenched as you stare at him, knowing the anger that’s blazing in your eyes.

His jaw moves and he relaxes his grip a little, though only a little. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what.”

He exhales a short breath, his fingers flexing slightly, and his throat moves as he swallows. “Look... I like you, Y/N, I really do, I hate that you got mixed up in this, but...” You stay silent as he pauses, and so does your earpiece. He licks his lips. “... I was stationed to keep an eye on you. They planned on using your relationship with Rogers against him. As I got to know you, though, I... I took some pictures, sent them to him to scare him. I thought he’d do the right thing and leave you alone but he didn’t and you weren’t meant to be involved, they told me you wouldn’t be, but... you can go now, I’ll get you out of here, I know it’s not real—”

“What the hell do you mean?” You just say the first thing that comes to mind, your heart aching and mind buzzing because Steve heard all of that, he heard his worst fears come to life; that your relationship has put you in danger.

Aaron shrugs slightly, keeping his gaze on yours. “We hacked your phone, Y/N,” he states, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We were listening to your conversations. It was too easy, SHIELD really needs to do better.”

Despite his seriousness, there’s a faintly smug, arrogance to his tone. It makes your blood boil, and terrifies you.

“Aaron—”

He’s already pulling you into a walk again. “Come on, I can get you out of here, you shouldn’t be here for this—”

“For when they try to kill Steve, you mean.” You try to wrench your arm out of his grip but he pauses once more, his fingers tightening.

Exhaling a harsh breath, he checks the corridor behind you before turning his attention to you. “Look... I’m sorry that this is going to hurt you, but this has to be done.”

“No, it doesn’t—”

“Yes, it does.” He shakes you in his grip in his certainty. At your eyes widening, his features soften a little and his grip loosens, though again, only a little. “Rogers symbolises the evil of America. The America that starts wars where they don’t belong and takes what isn’t theirs.”

Your throat is dry but you speak anyway. “That’s not Steve’s fault, he doesn’t stand for that—”

“Doesn’t he?” Aaron’s brow dips. “He’s the emblem of America. I’m sorry, Y/N, but it has to be done if America is to be free of its poisoned patriotism. Let’s go.”

You’re moving again and you don’t know what else to say. You feel sick but not unsafe with him and it’s an awful blend that has your stomach turning.

In the silence, Steve is talking, his voice low and quiet, he must be taking cover somewhere. “Nat, didn’t you check him out?”

“I did,” comes the reply, then a burst of gunfire, then she continues, “He came up clean, absolutely nothing on him.”

Aaron pushes a door open, taking you down a winding flight of stairs. Looking at him, Nat words ring in your ears.

“Aaron isn’t your real name, is it?” you ask quietly, your fingers remaining on the gem.

He glances at you before looking ahead again, taking you further down into the depths of the building. “No. They created a new identity for me, pulled me out of the deepest depression, you can’t even imagine. Gave me a purpose.”

You suddenly hear gunshots from somewhere above, faint and echoing, but you continue talking. “What’s your real name?” 

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments.

“Evan.”

Your voice softens as you look at him. “Evan, please, who’s ‘they’?”

You could hear Nat in your earpiece, telling Steve she’s searching the database for Evan along with the scan of him she has logged from the sunglasses.

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Yes, you can. I can help you.”

“I don’t need help.”

“Yes, you do.” You lick your lips, swallowing as you try to think quickly. “This group, whoever they are, they don’t have your best interests at heart—”

“And you know all about my best interests, do you?”

He doesn’t say it with any anger or malice, his calmness so unsettling.

“I know what’s right and wrong, Evan—”

“So do I.” You stare at him, so sure of himself, so absolutely certain. “And America? This is all very wrong.”

“Please—”

“They said it was too easy to hack SHIELD.” You remain silent, letting him talk, letting Steve and Nat listen. “To keep who I am and they are concealed. Oh, that reminds me...” Stopping on a landing, with his free hand he removes your bracelet. All you can do is watch as he presses his thumb against the gem, holding your gaze as he speaks, knowing they can hear, “Suppose they got some information, huh? It won’t matter. They won’t find anything.” He tosses the bracelet aside, the clattering of it on the metal stairs echoing, and then he’s removing your earpiece, and the last thing you hear is Steve saying he’s coming, you’re going to be okay, you’re—

He drops the earpiece.

And then he’s leading you down the stairs again, and as you peer over the side there is an end in sight, only two more flights to go to wherever he’s taking you to. You lick your lips, trying to think of what to say, hoping, desperately, that if you keep talking Evan will reveal something, maybe more willing to speak now they can’t hear you.

“Evan, when we... when we talked, all those messages we sent each other... was that just you or was it them, too?”

He looks at you, and a light smile suddenly lifts his lips. “It was just me.”

You take a breath. “I know you’re a good person, then.”

He scoffs, almost laughing, leading you off the last step, on to concrete and to a metal door. “C’mon, Y/N, I know I am. You’re just not willing to open your mind and see the truth.”

Opening the heavy door, that, due to the power being off, now freely opens, he pulls you through as desperation and panic starts to claw its way back up within you.

You’re in a larger, darker corridor now, pipes running either side of you with a tank to your right. Three steps take you down into it, the door closing loudly, and you just start talking.

“Evan, you said you liked me, if you really did then you’d let me go, I want to be with—”

He sighs. “I’m trying to save your life, Y/N—”

“And I’m trying to save yours, do you—”

“I already have been saved.”

It’s no use, you know it is. You go for your last resort.

Pulling a face, you release a rush of breath as you slow as best as you can, Evan still pulling on your arm. “Evan, please, wait, I can’t walk anymore.”

He doesn’t look at you, nodding ahead. “We’re nearly there, we’re—”

You dig your heels in once more, pulling back. “Please can I just have a moment, my feet hurt, I think glass got through my shoes.”

Finally looking at you, he pauses and presses his lips together, but after a few moments he nods and releases you. Trying not to exhale too relieved a breath, you lean against the wall.

You grip your bag with both hands to try and hide that they’re shaking, when you feel it.

Your gaze darting up to him, you watch him fold his arms, looking along the corridor in the direction he was taking you, trying to keep control of his impatience.

Keeping your eyes on him, your hand slips into your bag, finding the gun, and as you withdraw it you take a couple of steps backwards, and aim it at him. He hears you moving and his head whips round, his mouth opening. He pauses when his gaze lands on the gun, then you. You don’t say anything as you take another step backwards.

He doesn’t move, his arms remaining folded. “You don’t know how to use that.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you—”

You both hear the ‘click’ of the safety as you press it off.

“Are you sure you want to try me.”

Evan lets his arms fall slowly to his sides, and your eyes dart down momentarily to where his hand is, inches from his gun.

“You’re not a killer,” he says gently.

Your jaw clenches. “Who said anything about killing.”

He inhales a breath and exhales it slowly, a note of disappointment to it. “Y/N, I can get you out of here, both of us out of here. We can both walk away.”

You almost want to laugh at that. “I don’t think you will.”

“I would for you.”

The words hang in the air. You hate that his features have softened, hate that he sounds genuine, hate that part of you believes him. Your fingers flex slightly, adjusting your grip on the gun.

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not.”

Your lips press together and for some reason you feel tears pricking at your eyes because you hate this, you hate that—

The door behind you crashes open suddenly.

Evan freezes and you spin with a sharp inhale.

Thor moves down the steps slowly, Mjolnir in his hand, swinging slightly by his side. Raising his eyebrows, the god smiles easily. “Hello. Is this one of the little party poopers? I was having such a nice time.”

“Thor,” you breathe with a smile, relief washing over you as your arm lowers.

His smile widens, but there’s a hardness to his eyes as he locks them on Evan. “Sam and Steve are on the way, and they’re both very angry. I really wouldn’t want to be you right now.”

There’s silence.

And then it happens in seconds.

One hand is on your arm, the other on your wrist, and you’re wrenched backwards, your back colliding with Evan’s chest, and then the gun is out of your hand and your bag is dropping to the floor and then—

The barrel of the gun is pressed against your temple.

Thor has stilled and you’re frozen, eyes wide, heart pounding, staring at him.

“You’re gonna let us go,” Evan says evenly, his other arm around your chest, high up on it, nearer to your throat.

The god raises his free hand slightly, his smile lingering, almost like he’s amused at the sheer audacity. “You think you’re a smart little man. You won’t get far, though.”

“Far enough,” comes the sharp answer. 

He’s already moving you backwards, keeping your body tight against his, and Thor’s gaze shifts to meet yours, a lighter smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. You assume it’s to reassure you, but you don’t feel in any way relieved or optimistic as a gun is held to your head and someone you had once trusted hauls you backwards to an unknown destination.

“Oh, you would for me, would you,” you echo his words from only moments before, your voice shaking.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he murmurs, and you latch on to it, your mind too frightened to think it through.

“Thor, he won’t hurt me! He—”

The gun suddenly disappears from your head. His arm darting out, Evan pulls the trigger and starts firing at Thor. You cry out as you flinch, bullets ricocheting off of pipes, denting them and making some burst, steam erupting. 

You hear Thor grunt as he’s suddenly obscured from your vision, white-hot steam filling the corridor and you have no time to call out to him as Evan continues to haul you down the corridor, his arm now practically around your neck.

“Let me go!” you shout, trying to push his arm away but he only tightens it.

“I won’t hurt you,” he repeats but you can hear how distracted he is, his head going from whipping back to check behind him is clear to looking ahead to see if Thor will emerge.

“You already are,” you hiss, your nails digging into his arm, but he ignores it, barely feeling them through the material of his shirt.

The gun suddenly moves out of your sight and you hear the sound of a heavy door opening and a rush of cold air. Pulling you through it, he releases you finally, but only to shove the door shut and then he’s gripping your bicep and forcing you to walk beside him, having to keep up with his strides.

You’re in an underground parking lot, another fucking underground parking lot, and it’s filled with cars, lights illuminating every step of the way. Your shoes echo across the concrete floor, the only sound that fills the area. Glancing at Evan, his eyes are looking ahead, knowing where’s he going.

He’s going to take me to a car and then he’s going to drive us away and—

The lights go out.

Evan stops abruptly, his fingers digging into your arm. You hiss slightly at the feel of it but it’s quickly forgotten, the darkness surrounding you making you swallow. A light behind you, by the door you’d exited through, is the only one still on, flickering, going out completely for a few seconds before resuming its flickering.

All you can hear is your own, short breathing and Evan’s, harsh, tense.

Then, there’s a loud, echoing sound not too far away, like something heavy denting metal.

You hear it again before what sounds like shoes landing on the concrete floor. Then there’s footsteps, drawing closer.

Evan tightens his grip on you, pressing the barrel of the gun against your arm, looking around. You feel him freeze suddenly, and as your eyes dart about and then you do the same, watching the figure emerge from the shadows.

The flickering light barely illuminates Steve but you can make out his hard features, eyes burning into Evan, his suit jacket gone, sleeves haphazardly rolled up, and his shield glinting on his left arm.

Your heart almost stops in relief.

You hear Evan take a breath, but it sounds steady; he’s not afraid.

“Rogers.”

Steve’s jaw moves minutely. “Evan.”

Neither of them move, but you’re not frightened anymore because there’s no way Evan can win against him, not on a normal day, and particularly not today when Steve Rogers looks like barely restrained rage personified.

Evan knows that, too.

The barrel of the gun returns to your temple, but you’re still not afraid.

“I’d let us pass if I were you, Rogers.”

Steve's gaze, which so far has been fixed solely on Evan, flicks to you. He gives no indication of a reaction as he gauges yours, assesses how calm you are, Evan’s words, then his eyes return to him.

“You aren’t going to hurt her.”

You try to keep your breathing even, try not to let Evan know how relieved and relaxed you are because he won’t. In his own twisted way, he likes you, really likes you, enough to risk all of this and take you away. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure. Desperate people do desperate things, like cling on to a former way of life.”

You see Steve’s shoulders drop slightly, like he’s just exhaled a breath... No, he sighed.

“If you’re trying to insinuate that’s me, then you’re even more stupid than you look.”

You freeze, and Evan pauses... and you realise that this isn’t what he’d been expecting. Of course, he’d probably never spoken to Steve properly before. He’d have been shown old reels of film, been told the stories that, over the years, had grown in detail, left in the good parts, omitted the bad, glorified Steve and everything he’d done. He knew the legend, not the man. He’d been expecting some kind of pontificating, to be talked down, an attempt at reasoning, and Evan expected to be able to counter every word. With this, with the man Steve Rogers actually is, weary, angry, and fiercely protective of those he loves, he can’t do that.

Steve continues as silence stretches. “I don’t know exactly what you’ve been told, some of it might be true, but your fight is with me, not her. She doesn’t need to be part of this. You’re getting her out of here? Let her go, then. She can leave and it can be just you and me.”

You’re almost holding your breath because his grip on your arm has relaxed a touch, and you desperately hope his ego or fear will get the better of him.

Instead, though, Evan smiles suddenly. “Very heroic words, but she won’t go. Will you?”

He tugs on your arm, making you look at him and it’s so sudden you can’t hide the panic in your eyes because it hits you; he doesn’t need to appeal to Steve.

He needs to appeal to you.

You’re the weak-link.

From Evan’s expression... Steve isn’t going to have to try to save you, you’re going to have to try to save him.

He shakes you lightly, suddenly, and you realise it’s not a rhetorical question, he’s waiting for an answer.

“I...” 

Smiling sympathetically, he then lowers his head and whispers in your ear so quietly, “They’re on the way, Y/N. You think they would’ve let him just slip away? They could be here right now, hiding, aiming at him, waiting for the right moment. Waiting to see if I’ll handle it. Maybe this is a test for me, huh? Maybe I planned this all along. Maybe I have an earpiece of my own, or a tracker on me.”

You don’t know, even with his hearing, if Steve will have heard but it doesn’t matter because Evan’s got what he wanted; you’re rattled, doubt in your mind.

And he knows you won’t risk anything when it comes to Steve.

“I don’t think we’ll be alone for long,” Evan almost croons, making you swallow because you don’t know if he’s bluffing or not. “I might not be table to take you on but me and six other guys...”

“You don’t know Steve, then,” you snap quietly.

You think you catch a corner of Steve’s mouth lifting slightly.

Evan just continues to smile, though. “And he doesn’t know us. So what’s gonna happen, Y/N? Are we staying or going?”

‘We’.

Whatever happens, he won’t be letting you do it alone.

And you don’t know what to do.

“Make a decision, Y/N.” The gun moves from your head, and he aims it at Steve as he keeps his eyes on you.

You look at Steve, your heart pounding. He’s watching you and you have no idea what he’s thinking, his features unreadable. You must look as panicked as you feel, though, because his expression softens a touch, and then his gaze falls for a split-second, and your eyes follow, dropping to his hand. His fingers are curled; he’s pressing down on the gem.

Nat has heard every word.

Hope starts to build within you.

Evan might have people coming, but so does Steve.

You lift your chin an inch. “Staying.”

Evan pauses, his eyebrows rising. “Are we?”

He’s still looking at you so he doesn’t catch Steve’s small nod.

A smile starts to pull at your lips. “Yes.”

“Calling my bluff, huh.” Evan exhales a breath.

He lowers the gun.

Two gunshots ring out.

You cry out, the sound echoing horribly, hands flying up to cover your mouth as a bullet buries into Steve’s chest and shoulder, making him grunt and lurch forward from the impact.

You watch in horror as three men in unrecognisable tactical gear suddenly appear from behind a column, moving forward, their guns raised.

Another shot fires, tearing through Steve’s leg, forcing him down onto one knee with a grunt.

“Steve!”

You try to lunge forward but Evan’s tightened his grip on your arm and is pulling you to an elevator nearby.

“No! Stop it! Stop!” you yell, hitting at his arm but he just carries on and all you can do is watch as the men near Steve, their weapons still trained on him.

You hear the elevator doors open behind you, keeping your eyes on Steve, watching as he grunts again as one man kicks the back of his knee, making him drop down onto his hands, the shield clanging against the concrete.

Evan drags you into the elevator and jabs a button on the panel.

The last thing you see as the doors slide shut is Steve pushing himself up, and just before they close there’s a burst of gunfire.

You stiffen, your breath catching in your throat.

Silence.

You can feel tears sliding down your cheeks as you stare at the doors and release a jagged sob, the only other sound the humming of the elevator as it moves.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no...

Despite the fact you have nowhere to go, Evan hasn’t released you. He exhales another breath as he glances at you. 

“You can save your tears.”

“You watch someone you love get shot then try and tell me how to feel,” you snap, your voice breaking.

He scoffs. “You love him? What a twisted case of Stockholm Syndrome—”

“Shut up. Shut your fucking mouth.”

He does but you can’t feel any relief because oh my God, Steve...

He’s stronger than the average person, he can recover more quickly, they won’t have hit anything vital, they won’t have, they won’t have, they won’t have killed him, they won’t have, they can’t have, the gunfire could have been agents, they could have come for him, he isn’t dead, he isn’t dead...

You don’t realise that you’re shaking and actually murmuring the words out loud, over and over again, Evan watching you with a faint frown.

He isn’t dead, he isn’t dead, he isn’t dead...

There’s several minutes of nothing but the humming and your muttering. Evan stays silent.

You don’t notice that he’s holding your arm tighter, though you’d never believe him if he told you it is because you are shaking so badly.

The elevator doors open once it reaches the floor he’d requested, you haven’t bothered to look which one, and he leads you out and down a corridor, again like he knows where he’s going.

You let him, having no strength or energy to resist, just chanting over and over in your mind as you stare, unseeing, ‘He isn’t dead, he isn’t dead, he isn’t dead...’.

You’re then in another elevator, chanting it over and over like a prayer and a wish while Evan opens the control panel and overrides it. Chanting it as the elevator ascends. Chanting it as he tugs you out and across a room. Chanting it as he—

The freezing night air hits you like a slap in the face, forcing a rush of breath out of you as you blink and return to your body. Taking in a gasping breath, the air almost burning your throat, you head whips round to take in where you are.

You’re on a balcony, a huge balcony, with a glass railing around it, some kind of a runway to your right and behind you there’s a huge room with sofas and a bar and it’s all so familiar—

Oh, no, you know where you are.

You’ve seen this balcony before thousands of times, on the news, in newspapers, in adverts and shows.

This is the fucking balcony where the Battle of New York ended.

Evan has pulled a radio from his pocket and holds it close to his mouth. “Delta Four to base, over...”

The answer is instantaneous.

“Delta Four, this is base, tell us what’s going on and why you’ve abandoned your post.”

The voice is masculine, American, stern and cold, but Evan is unfazed. “I’ll tell you when you’ve sent the helicopter round and I’m on it, I’m on the balcony, over.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands, Delta Four.”

“Oh, you’ll want to come and get me. I’ve got her, over.”

You pause, staring at him. He glances at you briefly.

“So we heard.” There’s a short silence. “... The helicopter will be there in two minutes. Over.”

“All right, I’ll see you in two minutes, then, over and out.”

He shoves the radio back into his pocket, and meets your blank gaze.

“I thought I wasn’t meant to be involved.”

Your skin prickles at his light smile. “Have to get us out of here somehow.”

Denial is turning to anger now and the sudden way you wrench your arm back takes him by surprise, leaving you finally free of his grip.

“You don’t care about me,” you hiss, “You just want to save yourself.”

“Save us,” he’s pleading almost wearily, taking a step towards you as you take one back. “I’m doing this for us.”

“You’re either lying to yourself or to me!”

“No, I’m not, I just want—”

He breaks off, staring behind you and your brow dips as you turn after a moment. 

Relief and elation washes over you.

Sam hovers metres above the balcony, wings stretched wide, hands on his hips, incredibly pissed off.

“You know, man, I’m real tired of chasing you around and getting this rented suit messed up.”

A smile spreads across your features as he moves closer and you hear Evan take a few steps backwards.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking, Sam.”

Your head whips to the side at the voice, that voice, and you release a gasp of relief because Steve Rogers stands in the balcony doorway with his shield, alive. He’s resting his weight on his good leg and there’s blood staining his shirt where he was shot but he’s alive.

“Yeah, you’re not gonna be able to return that.”

You can hear the smile in Sam’s voice, your eyes remaining fixed on Steve, tears filling them again. He smiles softly and you can see his breathing is slightly laboured, but then his gaze shifts to Evan and the smile vanishes.

“There’s nowhere else to go, Evan. Don’t make this any more harder than it needs to be.”

You turn, watching Evan’s gaze dart between the two of them, weighing his options.

“I’ve got back-up coming.” The way he says it, so matter-of-fact, so arrogant, makes Steve chuckle, and the sound of it gives you the courage to take several steps back, finally putting some distance between you and Evan.

“Oh, yeah. Sam, you wanna go and take care of that?”

“Love to.”

You hear Sam surge higher into the sky and race off as the faint whirring of a helicopter draws nearer.

Evan stares at Steve and you can practically see his mind racing again, trying to figure out his next option, how he can win this.

He can’t.

He raises the gun, so swiftly, and aims it at Steve again. You freeze, closer to Steve but still some distance away. Steve raises his shield in front of his torso, his lips in a thin line. 

“Evan. Think about what you’re doing.”

You can’t read the other man, his features blank. He’s going to do something desperate, you know he is, he’s not going to just—

Evan lowers his arm and aims at Steve’s shield.

“Get down, Y/N!” Steve yells as he twists his arm so the shield is slanted away from you.

You drop to the floor just as Evan pulls the trigger. A bullet screams out and collides with the shield, shooting off in another direction and shattering part of the glass railing.

Lifting your head, you stare at Steve who’s darting forward, towards you.

What had been the point in Evan—

You feel a hand on your arm and the gun on the back of your head.

“Get up.”

Steve has come to an abrupt halt, one arm reached out, the other keeping his shield close to his body.

You stare up at him, his hand too far out of reach.

You flatten your hands and push yourself up slowly, obeying Evan’s order. He had said he wouldn’t hurt you, but at this point...

The gun remains at your head as you get to your feet and straighten, Evan’s grip on you tight, and he starts moving you backwards, using you as his own shield. Steve follows, moving slowly, one step at a time, his arm remaining outstretched.

“Evan, c’mon... It’s over.”

Evan is silent behind you and you have no idea where he’s taking you or what he’s even planning on doing. You can no longer hear the helicopter, he’s completely alone, he’s completely out of options.

He stops suddenly and Steve does, too, opening his mouth to try and reason with him again.

But nothing comes out as you watch realisation flood Steve’s features.

“No, Evan, don’t!”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Evan murmurs sincerely.

Before you can speak, before you can breathe, the gun is gone and he shoves you to the side, through the gap in the broken railing.

And you’re falling.

You hear Steve yell as you scream and you’re falling and you’re going to die and — 

A hand grabs your forearm.

Your body slams against the building with the momentum, and you’re dangling, crying out as your arm screams in protest at the sudden pull on it. Your head snaps up to find Steve gripping you, nearly his entire torso leaning out, on the broken glass. He hisses out breaths as his wounds pull and the shards bite into his skin through the shirt. His other hand, shield gone, presses against the flat of the intact glass to his left. 

“I’ve got you, Y/N, don’t worry, I’ve got you, look at me...”

You’re sobbing, your heart pounding as you hold his gaze, and you can feel him shaking just slightly from how tense his body is.

 “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God...” you breathe raggedly, shaking yourself, your body dangling.

“It’s okay, it’s all right—”

An explosion erupts somewhere close-by in the building, making it tremble, and you shriek as you feel like you’re falling again but Steve has tightened his grip, keeping you in place.

“It’s all right, sweetheart, you’re okay, I’ve got you!”

Frozen in terror, all you can do is stare up at him, his teeth gritted... and then you see the glass around his hand starting to crack slowly.

“I’m gonna pull you up, all right? It might hurt a little with all the glass here but I’ve got you, okay?”

You nod several times, unable to speak because wind is making your dress whip about you, making you very aware there’s absolutely nothing between you and the ground.

“Hold onto my arm with your other hand, all right?”

You nod again and raise your arm quickly, gripping his arm, your nails digging in but he doesn’t react.

“Ready?”

When you nod once more, he grits his teeth and starts to haul you up. He has to twist his body as he does so, more glass piercing him, but he manages to turn so he can press his shoes against the intact but still cracking glass and use it as leverage to push against.

Even though he moves quickly, it feels like a life-time and you can’t quite catch your breath as you sob, glass starting to prick at you now as he lifts you higher, pulling you over the edge of the building.

And then finally, finally, finally, you’re over it and in his arms, gripping at him, your face pressed into the crook of his neck as you tremble and cry.

You hear his heavy exhale of relief, his arms wrapping tight around you as he holds you, rocking you slightly, and you flinch as the glass his shoes rest against finally shatters.

“You’re all right, you’re okay, it’s okay...” he murmurs, his cheek resting on the top of your head.

You lift your eyes suddenly, looking behind him because oh my God, Evan...

Your gaze darts about frantically but you can’t see him anywhere.

“He got away...” you manage to say through your tears.

“I know, it’s okay,” he hushes you gently, continuing to rock you.

“He got a-away, what if he...” You can’t finish the sentence, can’t contemplate any more pain or hurt.

He presses a lingering, tender kiss to the top of your head, murmuring, “It’s okay, you’re safe.”

Those words have fresh tears sliding down your cheeks and you can’t speak anymore so you just close your eyes and cry into his shoulders, trembling, tightening your arms around him and holding onto him because he’s alive and you’re alive and you can’t believe it, you just can’t believe it.

“Steve! Y/N!” Sam’s voice startles you, your eyes snapping open, and a moment later he lands on the balcony. “What happened? Is everything okay?”

“We’re okay, it’s okay,” Steve answers, and you realise then, from the flatness of his voice and the slight break in it, that he must be crying, too.

“Nat’s on her way up, all right? I’ll get ‘em to send a medic up, just hold on...” 

He’s turning away and talking into his earpiece, but you just close your eyes again and cry, gripping onto the man you love as he holds you tightly, wind howling around you.

“ ... Breaking news! We interrupt this programme to inform you of more information we’ve received of tonight’s dramatic events...”

“... the as yet unnamed group still have members at large and, according to SHIELD, operate a recruiting system online, preying on the disillusioned...”

“... engagement was actually part of the operation to catch the group...”

“... the two explosions have caused significant damage to several floors of the building and an elevator shaft...”

“... ex-boyfriend has been arrested and associated with the group, though he’s denying any knowledge of...”

“.... just been announced that the three men who went to attack Captain Rogers on the carpet were actually decoys so the group could enter the building...”

“... the group infiltrated the system and organised the release of a Marise Daniels...”

News vans line the street outside the Tower, but, mercifully, you haven’t glimpsed any of them.

Nat, a group of agents and five medics had arrived minutes after Sam had. You’d been forced to separate from Steve, though it had taken some convincing from Nat for either of you to even move. He’d needed a little more attention than you so he’d been swiftly whisked away to one of the many medic-bays the Tower had, some of them still intact. You’d stared after him, watching him limp away, wincing every few moments and pressing a hand against one of his wounds.

“I won’t be long,” he’d whispered in your ear before kissing your cheek softly, but that had been three hours ago.

You’d been taken away, too, but to a different bay, and as you’d been patched up and made to change out of your beautiful dress, the garment torn and blood-stained, into sweatpants and a sweater, you’d had to give statement after statement, to the medics, to Nat, to various SHIELD agents, repeating every single little thing that had happened until your brain felt numb.

Sam had sensed your weariness, so tired tears were coming to your eyes, and had gently ended the questioning. He’d then asked you what you wanted to do.

You knew seeing Steve wasn’t an option, if you could he’d be here by now, so you’d said you wanted fresh air.

Sam had taken you outside, to the high-fenced, guarded, immaculate gardens towards the back of the Tower and asked if you wanted him to stay.

Knowing he was needed elsewhere, though he would stay if you asked, you’d said no with a small smile, and he’d hugged you as tightly as he could given your injuries, exhaling a breath.

“Thank you for everything, Sam.”

“Any time. Any time at all.”

After he’d left, giving you his phone in case you needed anything, you’d wandered a little further in, gazing at the gorgeously bright flowers, and then, realising just how damn tired you were, sat down heavily on a bench, stretching your legs out.

You’d stared at his phone in your hand, then unlocked it with the code he’d told you, went to his contacts and scrolled down until you’d found the name.

“Sam?!”

“It’s me, Bridge’.”

“Y/N?! Oh my God, oh my God, are you okay? Doll’, she’s okay!”

You’d burst into tears all over again as you heard them crying, too, and then Dolly’s frantic voice, hearing her sobbing as well.

“I’m so sorry, you two, I’m so sorry I couldn’t tell you about everything—”

“Oh my God, stop it, don’t you dare apologise, we’re just so fucking glad you’re okay and we’re so fucking proud of you! You’re the fucking best, are you okay?!”

You'd told them what you could, given how tired you are and how fresh tears seemed to come every few minutes. They’d listened quietly, sniffling and sobbing at various intervals at what you’d had to go through.

When you’d finally said goodbye, your voice almost hoarse, they’d promised to visit you tomorrow if they could, telling you how much they love you over and over. You’d hung up after your goodbyes and wiped your face, even more exhausted.

You’ve sat there for you don’t know how long now, your arm in a sling, the force with which Steve had grabbed your arm having strained muscles and tendons in your arm and shoulder, a bandage around your head from when it had hit the floor after the first explosion, the little cuts from the glass on your arms and hands cleaned, a few bandaged.

You don’t even really think about anything, just staring at the flowers.

I wonder if I could just fall asleep here.

“Hey.”

Lifting your head, Nat approaches, smiling lightly.

You return it. “Hey.”

She folds her arms as she stops before you. “How you holding up?”

You wrinkle your nose, your lips twitching a little. “Uhm...”

She laughs lightly, raising her eyebrows. “Yeah, thought so. If it’s any consolation, you did fucking great.”

Tomorrow you know it’ll blow your mind that Natasha Romanoff has just said that to you, but for now you just smile wearily, nodding. “Thanks.”

Her smile widens a little more briefly, before she takes a breath. “I thought you’d like to know we got Evan.”

You freeze. “What?”

“Yeah, Sam got him about an hour ago. Found him just sitting in a park, on a bench.”

You exhale a long breath. “That was easy.”

“Yeah, it was.” She seems... off, for the briefest of moments, before she smiles again. “For now, though, I say we both get the rest of the weekend off, what remains of it.”

You laugh softly, your eyebrows rising. “Oh, I fucking think so.”

She drops her arms, her smile lingering. “Great. I’ll call you tomorrow, all right?”

“Okay. Oh,” you say just as she’s about to turn, “Will you thank Thor for me? And everyone else?”

Her lips twitch, though it’s almost in endearment this time instead of hinting at a smirk. "Of course. I’ll see you later, make sure you rest.” 

“I’m absolutely planning on doing nothing but.”

“Good. See you later.”

As she turns and heads back into the building, you hear her announce, “Right, all of you can fuck off now, I can finally sleep.”

It brings a smile to your lips as you watch her walk away, and then you see Bucky pass her, heading out to you.

“Hey, kid,” he greets you with a wide smile, wearing the most complicated tactical gear you’ve ever seen.

You find yourself standing and hugging him as best as you can before he can say another word, and if he’s surprised he doesn’t show it, his arms going around you instantly, hands patting your back.

You feel like you want to cry all over again.

“Thank you,” you murmur, and he squeezes you gently.

"Don’t mention it.”

Pulling back, his features have softened and he pats your shoulder. “I’ve got some things to deal with but I just wanted to see how you were. You okay?”

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah. Be better after some sleep I think.”

“I think so, too. I’ll see if I can get ‘em to bring a car around for you, all right?”

You nod again, relieved, and his smile widens. “All right, wait here.”

As he heads back into the Tower you close your eyes, just letting yourself feel the relief because they’ll have to have enough agents to take you back to the hotel so you can sleep, or you wouldn’t even care if you were taken up to a room in the Tower, you just want—

You hear someone clear their throat.

“I really do have competition, huh.”

Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you try to stop a wide smile, swallowing again because tears are pricking at your eyes again. Opening them, you find Steve stood a few feet away, his own arm in a sling, a few bruises on his cheeks and jaw, and smiling softly. 

You sniff and shrug, saying as nonchalantly as possible, “What can I say, I’m a complete catch. A literal one actually, I was literally caught—”

He’s suddenly in front of you, the smile still there but he swallows, shaking his head slightly. “Oh, I’m not ready to joke about that yet.”

You manage a smile. “Neither am I, actually.”

Then his arm is around you and your cheek is against his chest and your eyes are closed and he just holds you, his lips against the top of your head. You don’t know how long you stand like that, holding each other, grounding each other, but it’s you who finally lifts your head, needing to see him.

“Hey,” you murmur.

“Hey,” he says just as quietly.

For a few moments you just look at each other, and then he closes the short distance between you and kisses you so tenderly it almost breaks your heart.

“Hey, now that we’re no longer engaged...” he murmurs after he draws his head back, gazing at you. “... would you like to go on a date with me?”

You laugh, and the sound warms his soul. “I’d like that very much.”

“Oh, good.”

He kisses you again, lingeringly, softly, and it feels like home.

So you say it.

Breaking the kiss, you exhale a breath and smile. “I love you, Steve Rogers.”

His eyebrows lift a little, one corner of his mouth lifting higher than the other as he swallows. “I love you, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

It was the easiest thing in the world, to say it, and the most beautiful thing in the world to hear it.

Taking his hand, you blow out a breath and sniff as you both start to wander back towards the Tower.

“I want to go on holiday.”

“Yeah?”

His thumb strokes against your skin, and if you were to look up at him, you’d find pure love and adoration shining in his eyes.

“Yeah. Maybe to that island that was on that programme.”