I'm no slouch when it comes to bedding my partners and my list is not as extensive as others presume, but it's a lot longer than I ever wanted it to be. My eyes were opened when I was seventeen years old; I was sat across a crap table, a booth crammed in the corner of small diner. My arms were stuck to the sticky tabletop and my eyes were latched onto the bluest pair I had ever seen.
I had looked at those blue eyes a hundred, no a thousand, well, probably a billion times before, but that was my moment.
They were wrinkled at their edges, bright and full of amusement, and dammit, reflected every goddamn light within their vicinity. In fact that whole face was lit up with a light that I'm pretty sure would solve all sorts of problems, if anyone knew how to convert that into energy. Hell, if they did that it'd solve a lot of money problems.
I let the moment pass and turned my attention to a rather nice pair of brown eyes. They were crinkled and full of amusement—Stevie always underestimated himself when it came to dames. All he had to do was smile and make 'em laugh.
I was lucky. I got to have another.
I came to; I was once again strapped down to a gurney with this huge blonde guy hovering over me, except this wasn't just anyone looming over me. This was Steve Captain America Rogers. No. This was my Stevie, with a heart that was always too big for him. His body finally matched what I had seen within him all along, wait hadn't I already said something like that before?
"I thought you were dead."
"I thought we already had this conversation."
He smiled and it lit up his whole face. His eyes crinkled at the corners in the way that had me thinking about that day in the diner all those years ago. Sticky table tops and jokes I can't remember.
"Jerk."
"Punk."
I smiled.
Still the bluest eyes I've ever seen.