A/N: Stop the presses! I wrote fluff! Seriously! Pure! Unadulterated! Fluff! I swear! Promise even! How did I manage? Well, I wrote out the story, then deleted all the flash-back and flash-forward angst. Pretty easy when I do it that way. ;) (That said, I do hope you at least choke up at the end. :))
From my usual Captain Hill A/U story arc, however, I do not reference that arc at all so, if you think that at some point Maria and Steve will be happily married and have a kid, this story will work for you.
Written for Captain Hill Week, minor prompt: Snofall/First Snowfall. And for StillWaters, who wanted to know the story behind the leg lamp in Ch. 28 of "I Don't Dance." Title is from the Kurt Vile song and has absolutely nothing to do with the story, I just liked the title. :)
Please R&R.
"It's snowing." Maria giggled, her laughter reverberating throughout Steve's body as he lay atop her, still catching his breath.
"That's the last time you have any Asgardian anything," he told her, trailing kisses down her neck, tasting the salt from the sweat on her skin.
"You don't mind me a little drunk," she said. "It makes me easier to take advantage of."
"Wow, you are really wasted if you aren't checking your own grammar." He joked as he slowly rolled off her then readjusted their bodies so he could spoon her while they stared at the snow falling outside the window of the cabin.
"Besides," he whispered in her ear. "You don't need to be drunk to be easy."
Maria snorted at that and Steve had to laugh. That was not a sound she usually made for any reason.
"You're so cock sure of yourself," she said, then broke into a fit of laughter.
"Yeah, and your puns needs some serious work," he said.
Maria's laughter subsided and Steve thought she might drift into a deep sleep. Maria didn't usually drink and never enough to get drunk, but Thor had brought Steve some Asgardian mead as a Christmas present and Maria had wanted to share a glass. They'd watered it down to almost nothing, but it had still delivered a punch. She had laughed and giggled through almost the entire movie they'd watched with Hope this evening.
Steve sighed as he waited for his wife to fall asleep. It looked as if he was going to have to pull off the Santa gig all by himself this year. That was really too bad, he always liked what came after he delivered the presents and Hope "snuck" back into her room.
"You know what I like?" she said.
"What?" he asked, then lifted her hair off her neck and placed a kiss at the base of her skull. That earned him a satisfied groan.
"That," she moaned. "I like that."
"Already?" He whispered huskily in her ear as he moved his hand to her breast.
"No." She whined and pushed his hand away. "You have to go be Santa."
"You like the Santa suit?" he asked and smoothed his hand down her side to her thigh while he placed languid kisses on her bare shoulder.
"Mmhmm," she said, but pushed his hand away again as he reached around and tried to get it between her legs.
"Santa," she said in a commanding voice.
"OK, OK," he said with a chuckle.
He moved out of the bed and began the search for his clothing. He found his t-shirt and pulled it over his head, then his sweater, and his pants.
"What happened to my briefs?" He mumbled to himself.
Maria broke into giggles again and pointed at the ceiling. Steve followed her gesture, then sighed and shook his head.
"Really, dear, you need to contain your excitement," he said in chastising tone, then stood on the bed to retrieve his underwear from the light fixture.
"That's not what you said earlier," she said.
When Steve looked down at her he saw her perusing his body with her eyes.
"Santa." He reminded her.
"Your legs," she said.
"What?" he asked with a huff as he jumped off the bed and pulled his on briefs then reached for his pants.
"I like your legs," she told him.
"Well, I'm glad to hear it," he said and walked over to the dresser to pull out a pair of socks.
"I want one," she said.
He turned and gave her a questioning look.
"'One' what?" he asked.
"Leg," she smiled.
Steve opened his mouth and shut it several times before Maria started to laugh again.
"Lamp," she explained.
"Oh," he said. "Like in the movie."
Maria nodded enthusiastically.
"Only, a Captain America one," she told him.
"They make those?" he asked as he pulled on his snow boots.
She nodded again.
"You want me to help?" she asked.
"Help get a leg lamp?"
She giggled again and Steve started to think maybe he would let her have a little more mead before they left and went home after the New Year. Only, he was going to record all her giggles. She was never going to believe she'd done this.
"No, silly, help you get into your Santa suit," she said.
"No, I think you are probably going to be snoring by the time I get back," he told her. "I don't want you to fall asleep in the shed."
"OK," she said, which surprised Steve who had expected at least a little argument.
He pulled his extra coat out of their closet so he wouldn't have to retrieve his usual one off the coat rack by the door. It might wake Hope and he didn't want her to catch him leaving.
By the time Steve was buttoned up and ready to go out the French doors of their bedroom, Maria was sound asleep. He took a moment to watch her and smiled, then leaned down to kiss her on the lips before he slipped out the back.
Steve stepped as quietly as he could onto the deck and pulled the door shut behind him. The snow was still falling but only lightly. Hope would be excited to see it when she woke. They'd had nothing but freezing temperatures without the benefit of snow since they'd arrived at their cabin a week earlier.
He quickly made his way to the shed beneath the trees. Here they'd stored all the gifts in a large red cloth bag. As soon as he entered, he began to strip down to his underclothes, then pulled on the huge pillow-like wrap that would make him look more like Santa. That was followed by red pants and black boots, then a red coat. A white beard and wig were topped off by a red hat. He looked in the mirror as he reached for the spectacles and he smiled at his reflection. This had become his favorite Christmas tradition.
He grabbed up the bag and hefted it over his shoulder, then pushed open the shed door and stepped out into the frozen night. The snow was still falling and it was deep enough now that his boots sank down an inch. He hoped it would continue and they could build snowmen in the morning.
Coming around the corner of the cabin now, Steve glanced up at Hope's window. He saw her staring out at him, just as she had been each Christmas Eve for the prior three years. The first year she did it on her own. Now she "secretly" set an alarm to make sure she woke to wave at Santa. Steve waved back and smiled beneath his fake beard, certain he was never so ridiculously happy as he was on Christmas Eve.
At the door, he slid open a panel and placed his hand on the scanner. It was incongruous to the rustic nature of the place, but a necessity none-the-less. He'd had Tony install it when he'd bought the place for Maria as her wedding gift.
The door popped open and Steve stuck his head in to scan the room. As he stepped into the cabin, he heard quiet laughter in the hall. He pretended to be unaware of Hope's presence as he set the red sack next to the tree and began pulling out the gifts. When he was done he sat down on the sofa and picked up the note Hope had written to Santa that was set next to the plate of cookies Maria had helped her make earlier, and a glass of milk.
Finally, Hope snuck a peek around the corner and Steve gestured to her to come closer. His daughter squealed in delight and ran over to him, jumping into his lap.
"This is such a nice note," Steve said, making his voice as deep and gravelly as possible. "From such a sweet girl."
She smiled up at him and snuggled deeper into his embrace.
"Did you make these cookies?" Steve asked.
"Mommy and I did," she told him. "She taught me how to do everything just right."
Hope pulled back to look at him and the scrutinizing look she gave Steve caused him to fear he'd been found out.
"I asked her if she loved you and she said, "Very much." Then she winked at Daddy," Hope told him and Steve held his breath while he waited.
"She had to do that so Daddy would know that she still loved him more." She finished then reached over to pick up a cookie and hand it to him.
Steve let out the breath slowly, relieved he'd dodged that bullet. Hope was very smart and they'd already had to make up an elaborate story about how, due to the security around the cabin, Santa had to park his sleigh and walk in, and had to use the front door and not the chimney. Maria had assured him that considering the type of people they knew, the excuse of magic helping Santa get all over the world in one night would be quite feasible for some time.
"Would you like the other cookie?" Steve asked.
Hope shook her head and told him, "No, thank you."
"I already brushed my teeth," she explained. "And I had two earlier after they came out of the oven."
Steve finished one cookie and the milk while Hope chattered on about what she'd been doing in the year since she'd seen Santa last. When he was finished, he pocketed the other cookie, 'To share with Mrs. Claus,' when he got home because they were the best butterscotch oatmeal cookies Santa'd ever tasted.
Hope beamed at him, then gave him another hug. Steve was glad to leave, his emotions were starting to get the best of him. The Asgardian mead must have had an effect on him too.
His daughter clambered down off his lap, then walked back toward the hall. She turned and gave him a little wave before she scampered on reindeer-slippered feet back to bed.
Steve rose and grabbed the empty bag, then walked out of the cabin and back around the way he came. He waved "goodbye" to Hope and trudged back through the snow to the shed. He walked several paces beyond, to the edge of the clearing before returning to the shed. He'd fix his tracks later before they brought Hope out to play after breakfast and presents, but she always loved following "Santa's" tracks to the edge of the forest and imagining him "magicking" himself back to his sleigh.
Ten minutes later he was back in his bedroom. Maria was still asleep. Steve quickly shucked his cold clothing and pulled on some pajama pants and a t-shirt. He crawled under the covers and put his arms around Maria. She turned and mumbled something about cold hands before she snuggled up against him.
Steve lay awake for a long time listening to her slow, even breaths. In the room down the hall, his daughter was curled up under warm blankets in the midst of at least a hundred stuffed animals and dolls. In the morning she'd skip down the hall to the kitchen where he and Maria would be making pancakes. They'd eat breakfast while Hope bounced in her chair, her long blonde curls bobbing up and down. Once the breakfast dishes were in the sink, they'd open the presents. So many presents, more than he and Maria would ever have dreamed for themselves as children. And, at the end of the carnage, while Hope set up a tea party with the new "real" tea set, he and Maria would start their argument over who had made whom happier only by merely existing. If there was ever a time in his life he'd imagined his future happiness, he was certain he'd never imagined it would be this good.