Thor had told Steve and the other Avengers of Asgard often, the land, the culture, and the incredible buildings. But Steve didn't even begin to understand it all until the Avengers had come here on a diplomatic visit. Every corner of the world was amazing, filled with structures and things more beautiful than Steve had ever seen in his life. He didn't want to give Thor another excuse to brag about his home, but damn, it was nice.
Steve had always been good at drawing; from a young age he had a talent for it. His love of it continued even after he was freed from the ice, finding it a wonderful escape from the harsh realities that could be his life. Now in Asgard, when he wasn't doing diplomatic meetings or training with Thor and the other Avengers, Steve would often go off alone to sketch the realm, the buildings, the people. His sketchbook became filled with these drawings, all in various stages of completion.
Today, Steve was busy drawing someone in particular.
He sits on a balcony, his sketchbook and pencil in hand, his body partly hidden by a gigantic pillar. Below him stretches the training field where the asgardians practice. Steve's eyes are fixed on the Lady Sif, busy using her spear to disarm her advancing opponent. His heart pounds a little as she twirls her spear in the air, her face set in concentration, using one of the sharp points to knock the man's feet out from under him. He falls to the ground with a yell, and Sif's lips curl into a smirk as she turns a way and looks for another opponent. None of the other warriors seem very enthusiastic.
Steve takes a quick breath before turning back to his work. It's difficult to draw Sif, she moves constantly, but eventually he settles on the position she's so often in, a warrior's stance, her spear held tightly in both hands. He already has her armor and the basic outline of her body. His pencil moves to her head, beginning to sketch Sif's masses of dark hair. For a second Steve worries it won't come out right, that he won't really capture the beauty of her hair. Or her eyes. Or how pretty she looked when she smiled. Or how much Steve wanted to tell her how pretty she was . . .
Feeling his face flush a shade darker than Natasha's hair, Steve glances back over at Sif, who's dusting off her armor from another sparring match, before turning back to his sketchbook. He wishes she was closer, so he could draw her armor in greater detail. He sighs, then looks up again, hoping to see Sif holding her spear so he can see it better.
But she's gone. Startled, Steve looks around the training yard, but she's nowhere to be found. His brow furrows in disappointment. Well, maybe he can just work on the armor until he sees her again . . .
"What is that you're drawing, Captain?"
Steve spins around. Sif's standing directly above him, her hair gleaming in the sun, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Oh, well, I was just . . .um." Steve tries to flip to another page, but it's too late. He flushes a deep red as he sees a bright smile start to form on Sif's face.
"It is truly a remarkable likeness, Captain. You have a gift. But you need not hide it from me. I would be happy to allow you to draw me whenever you please."
Steve stands, still blushing, and gives her a tentative smile. "Well you are . . . a really great model. Thank you Sif."
Sif's beautiful smile widens. "Whenever you please, Captain,"and walks away, her hair swinging behind her. Steve lingers by the pillar, wondering whether Sif would want the drawing framed and displayed in the hall of Asgard.