Steve Rogers' POV

Love is the extremely difficult realization that something other than oneself is real.

- Iris Murdoch, Existentialists and Mystics Writings on Philosophy and Literature

"So, guess what. I got the new Batgirl comic a week or two ago. I'm sorry, but Barbara Gordon is freaking amazing. I think it's so cool that people are making up fake superheroes and drawing and selling comics about them and making movies. I know they're fake, but it's a nice break from all the real, angsty heroes in the real world. I think you'd like Superman, Steve. Personally, I think he's a bit annoying - I mean, he's so perfect that no one can really relate to him. And Tony would adore Batman, I bet, since his secret identity is a billionaire playboy, and he's got no power, just money, like-"

I cut Sam off with a kiss on the mouth.

"Well, that was a bit rude," she sat back and glared, but the leaned forward to kiss me on the mouth again as she snaked a hand around to the back of my neck.

We (meaning Samantha Silver and I, Steve Rogers - better known as Captain America) were sitting in Tony Stark's private jet, en route to Chicago, Illinois. Sam had just returned from a two-week trip across Europe, helping Tony with S.H.I.E.L.D assignments and with Stark Industries' new nuclear division, and re-visiting her old home and friends in Rome. I hadn't talked to her since she'd left. As cheesy as it sounded, it hurt to be away from her for so long - it reminded me of how she left for Rome all that time ago, and how I never got to talk to her then.

But now she was back, and I was honestly so, so glad to see her. It seemed the feeling was mutual – she wouldn't stop talking.

"I'm so tired, Steve," she moaned, leaning into my chest and burrowing her head in my armpit. "The flight from London to New York was, like, 7 hours, and even though it's Tony's freaking private jet, it's still uncomfortable. I was in New York for twenty hours before you showed up and Tony left for Avengers Tower and BAM, we're leaving on the two-hour flight to Chicago. And then we're returning to New York City later tonight," she groaned.

"You can have a nap, Sam," I said, examining a strand of her golden-blonde hair.

"But I haven't seen you in two weeks," she blushed, sitting back.

"I won't mind if you fall asleep, honey," I smiled softly to show her it was okay. "The time change is messing you up anyway."

She made a grumbling noise, and then leaned against me again. "I'm excited and, well, kinda scared for you to meet my family," she said into my chest, her voice muffled.

"Don't worry about it, Sam," I wrapped my arms around her. "It'll be fine."

She sighed, her chest rising and falling. "I have no doubts that they'll love you, Stevie. Everyone loves you. You're the most decent man I've ever met. Seriously, I should be more worried that my mom will fall in love with you than that they'll accept you," she snickered. "But . . . I don't know. It's still scary."

"Can't believe I haven't met them yet," I murmured. Today, Sam and I were flying to Chicago so I, as her boyfriend, could meet her mother and brother; Mrs. Silverman was preparing a special dinner -

"Wait. Do I call her Mrs. Silverman?" I asked Sam, thinking of how her mother and father had been divorced for over a year and a half now.

"You know you can call her by her first name, Grandpa," Sam teased. "But, uh . . . I think she goes by her maiden name now. Um, Engebretsen." There was a pause. "You know what, just call her Mrs. Silverman."

"Is Engebretsen . . . Norwegian?"

"Yeah," Sam yawned. "So technically, my great ancestors worshipped Thor and Loki. And stuff. Which is actually really weird if you think about it."

We sat in silence for a while, staring out the window at the clouds below us until Sam finally said, "Stevie, I'm really sorry, but I can hardly keep my eyes open. I think I'm going to have that nap . . ."

"Don't worry about it," I smiled at her. She rested her head on my shoulder and was asleep quickly.

I stared down at Sam thoughtfully. After, what, how many months of dating? Six? In any case, we began dating as soon as she returned from her university exams in Italy, and after all that time, I knew her better than she knew herself. I recognized that her nail polish was chipped not because it was old, but because she had anxiously picked at it; I knew that the blue stains on her fingers were from a pen, which she probably had used to write a list of to-do things: she did that when she was stressed. The pizza stain on her shirt wasn't a result of messy eating, it was a result of nervous distraction; and the skin irritation on her neck only acted up when she was distraught – it was acting up now. Either Sam's time in Europe had been stressful, or she was more nervous about me meeting her family than she was letting on. But that scar on her forehead, just under her hairline – the one she got while fighting the Mandarin – that scar only turned pink, like it had now, when she felt safe. Secure. And Tony told me that usually happened when I was around.

It wasn't just the little things that I recognized about her. I knew what she would dress up as for Halloween before even she did (a unicorn), and I knew that whenever I caught her eating Nutella with her Autumn-scented candle burning beside her, it meant it was her time of the month. Sam couldn't hide anything from me; not anymore. I loved her. I was in love with her.

Everyone knew it was bound to happen eventually. We had met in the month of May the year before, and "technically" hadn't started dating until July of the next year; it was December now, and I wasn't afraid to admit to myself that I had fallen in love with Sam. But admit it to her? I wasn't quite ready for that yet. As Tony Stark liked to point out, my biggest weakness was women.

The rest of the flight was smooth; we landed safely, so I woke Sam up. Even after less than two hours of sleep, she was incredibly refreshed: she started talking even more than before, telling me about Europe and barely breathing and she told her stories. I loved this side of Sam. Towards strangers, she was sullen and sarcastic; a lot like Tony. But when it was just the two of us she was a lot different, and I loved her like this. I guess it was because she knew me so well, and that she was more comfortable around me; she let her guard down.

We arrived at her family's place forty minutes after landing; it had been a short taxi ride from the airport. I'd been to Chicago to visit her before, but never to meet her family; we had stayed outside, usually walking around the city.

Sam's mother and brother Luke lived in an apartment near Luke's high school. Her brother was in the eleventh grade now, and I had actually met him briefly, back when he was in grade nine. If there was one person in this world who Sam loved the most, who she would do anything for, it was Luke. Their sibling bond was amazing – they were best friends.

Sam let herself into the apartment with a spare key she had. She hadn't grown up in this apartment – rather, she had lived in a house while her father was still around – but since she finished high school, her mom and Luke had moved to the apartment. It was on the fifth floor of the high rise, with a balcony and state-of-the-art kitchen. It was spotless, and every horizontal surface was clear. The apartment looked exactly like the cover for a home living magazine, styled with modern furniture; yet, it had a distinctly well-loved and lived-in feel. It was an awfully nice place: not really my taste, but definitely something high-end and popular. It was only one floor, with three bedrooms and two bathrooms. The front door opened into a hallway, and Sam kicked her shoes off into a closet before walking down the hall to the living room.

Sam snorted. "Looks like Mom actually cleaned the place. Shows how much she's actually excited to meet you."

"Hello?" she called out to the apartment; no one responded. I followed her, marveling at the space as she walked over to the kitchen. There was a note on the counter, and she picked it up and read it. "Mom's at the grocery store," said Sam, "buying stuff for dinner. Says my old best friend called and wants to meet you, Steve. We're supposed to meet Penny in a half an hour at Cloud Gate," she scrunched up her nose distastefully. "Sorry, Stevie. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, fine!" I smiled. "I'd love to meet Penny. You talked about her a lot when I first met you."

"Uh-huh," Sam put the note down. "I'm hungry. You want anything to eat?" She opened the fridge and peered inside. "Go check that pantry, will you? I think there might be cookies or a box of cereal . . ."

I leaned over, opening the low pantry door in the wall, having to bend down. Looking back at Sam, I caught her staring at my backside; I straightened up quickly, my face pink.

Sam blushed, caught red-handed. "Sorry, Stevie," she apologized. "Just, uh . . . I dunno. You have a nice ass," she hid her head in the fridge, turning as red as me. "I was just appreciating that your Cap costume is made of spandex."

There was a small throat-clearing noise; we both whipped around to see Luke standing in the doorway of his bedroom, one eyebrow raised. Her brother looked exactly like she did, except with short, straight blonde hair and paler skin. Sam squealed and ran over to crush him in a Thor-like hug; he coughed awkwardly, motioning for her to let him go.

"How're you?" she asked, smiling widely. "I've missed you. How's school going? You on winter holidays yet?"

"Fine. Missed you too. Good. No," he said dully - and I noticed with surprise that he was glaring over Sam's shoulder at me.

It was only then that I remembered the nature of our last, and only, meeting. Sam had been missing for a week, helping the Avengers fight Loki – but her family hadn't known that. So when she randomly showed up at her house with me by her side, Luke had jumped to conclusions. At first, he had thought Sam had run off to elope with me; afterwards, he thought I was a kidnapper. After she explained that I was "Like a brother", Luke had angrily wanted to know if he was being replaced. Things had cleared up in the end, though we both had to reveal our superhero identities to the young boy.

Now, Sam said, "Lukie, this is my boyfriend Steve Rogers." She grabbed my hand and tugged me forward.

"Yeah, I know," Luke said icily. "Captain America." I couldn't help but think of how Sam had described me as a brother back then. Things had certainly changed.

"Nice to meet you again, Luke," I nodded respectfully; he didn't stop glaring.

"You're the reason my sister left for Rome."

"Uh, no," Sam snapped. "I left because I wanted to study history."

"Well then, it's his fault you're back."

That was true, but Sam shook her head. "I'm back because it wasn't working out for me."

"I saw that article in the newspaper. 'Love on the battlefield.' And the video clip of Captain America kissing Masquerade."

"So?"

"So you've hardly talked to Mom and I since meeting this guy," he didn't talk his eyes off me. "You've been all secretive and it's only now that you've let us meet him."

"She's a superhero. It's part of the job to be secretive," I said.

"But not to ditch the family and move to New York City."

"She's an Avenger. The Avengers are in New York," I frowned.

Luke narrowed his eyes. "You're the only reason she's staying around." He was right, but I didn't say anything. "You're the reason Sam keeps putting her life in jeopardy as Masquerade."

Sam laughed awkwardly. "Luke, you're overdoing the protective-brother thing . . ."

"You keep getting hurt because of him," Luke snapped.

"You got a problem with us?" she raised her eyebrows. "Honestly, Lukie, Steve's the nicest goddamn person you'll ever meet-"

"I don't like him."

"You've barely talked to him!" she shouted, throwing her hands up. "You don't get to pick who I date, Luke-"

"What about that Mark guy from high school? He was nice. He didn't make you move to Rome and get freaking depression. Captain America's a thing of the past. That famous shield belongs in a museum," he spoke to me now. "You belong in a museum."

Sam turned on her heel, matching to the closet and grabbing her shoes. "C'mon, Steve. Let's go meet Penny."

"I-"

"Now, Steve," she said, walking out the door and slamming it without waiting for me. By the time I turned around, Luke had retreated back into his room and slammed the door, too. I had no choice but to follow Sam.

We said nothing on the elevator ride down, or on the walk to Cloud Gate. I knew Sam well enough to know not to talk to her – she was in a bad mood, and if anything she didn't want to talk about it. Instead she sulked, a dark look on her face.

"He'll come around by dinner time," was the only thing she said.

Cloud Gate was a famous public sculpture in Millennium Park that basically looked like a big mirrored bean, sitting on the ground. Chicago was known for its architecture, so it wasn't abnormal to have a sculpture like this in the park. You could see your warped reflection in the polished silver surface that resembled liquid mercury; Sam and I stood underneath Cloud Gate, looking at our faces in the endless mirrors. Penny showed up right on time, a bubbly young woman the same age as Sam. She had pin-straight dark brown hair, and she wore a black headband to keep her hair off her face, along with a large brown overcoat, as it was winter and the wind was cold – we were in the Windy City, after all. To our surprise, Penny showed up with a companion.

"Dana?" Sam squinted at the tall raven-haired girl with the glasses, who smiled weakly. I recognized the name: Dana was Sam's ex-best-friend, who had abandoned her after Sam burnt down their high school by accident.

"She wants to talk to you and make up," Penny glared at Dana, explaining after introductions had been made, "while I talk to this yummy boyfriend of yours!" Penny smiled brightly. Sam pouted, but went off with Dana while Penny proceeded to threaten me in about five different ways - all things she would do if I hurt Sam, including "Buy you a puppy, make you fall in love with it, and then drown it in front of you!" Seemed to me she was a bit odd on the inside – a bit immature.

Over on Sam's side of things, there was a lot of yelling – Sam was still sore about the Luke mess - but they came back to us all smiles. Dana apparently "approved" of me, and we set off for a walk around the park.

Somehow, our conversation got on to talking about the Avengers. "It's so weird, isn't it?" Dana scrunched up her nose, just like Sam did sometimes. "How those superheroes are really just normal people, walking among us right now. They could serve you coffee at Starbucks in the morning, or they could yell at you for not paying your rent. They act just like us, but they're so much more." Sam and I exchanged a glance.

"Yeah, I mean, you never know," Penny chuckled lightly. "Steve could secretly be an Avenger! Who do you think he'd look best as?" she frowned.

Dana made a frame with her fingers and stuck it out in front of her, squeezing an eye shut and looking at me through it. "Captain America, I think. He's certainly got the jaw," she giggled.

Sam coughed. "Nah, Steve's nowhere that interesting. He's a museum curator in New York City," she stumbled over her words. That was our cover for me – we very well couldn't tell people I actually worked with S.H.I.E.L.D, and split my time between them and the Avengers.

"Museum curator?" Dana raised her eyebrows. "That's kind of . . . boring."

"I used to be in the army," I defended myself, but then regretted it. That wasn't part of the cover. Immediately, the girls had all sorts of questions, which were rather awkward to answer, since I had been in cryogenic state for the last seventy years and had no idea what the military had been doing since World War II.

I saved myself with a quick excuse, though: "It's . . . kind of a difficult to talk about," I said, which wasn't untrue. "A lot of good men died, and I saw a lot of horrible things. I . . . it's too hard to talk about." The girls were falling over themselves to apologize.

"So, how did you guys meet?" Dana asked afterwards.

I cleared my throat. "Tony Stark's a mutual friend. He introduced us after I came back from the army, before I was a curator."

"And how do you know Tony Stark?" Penny asked Sam, her voice filled with awe.

"Um, my dad and mom used to work with Doctor Hank Pym, who's friends with Tony." That was, surprisingly, true. "I met him through Hank." That, not so much.

"Oh my god, did you hear? Mark's studying at U of Chicago," Penny gushed. "He's going to be a doctor. Like Henry Pym."

"Dr. Pym's a scientist . . ." I trailed off, but Sam's friends ignored me, obviously meaning the hospital sort of doctor.

"You really missed out there, Sam," Penelope said woefully. "Mark's going to be so rich when he gets older. And he only gets hotter with every year," she sighed happily. Sam bowed her head awkwardly: Mark was her ex-boyfriend. They had gone out for almost three years in high school; he had been Sam's first love, her first kiss, and her first time. The breakup had been Sam's idea, though, in grade twelve – she wasn't acting funny now because she still liked him or something. No, it was because she found it an awkward subject to talk about around me. Mark had been all those firsts for her, and she didn't feel comfortable talking about him with me. I found it cute – but I was thankful, as I wasn't really Mark's biggest fan. There was a point in time where I had been jealous of the boy.

"Oh my god, they used to be like, one name," Dana gushed, putting a hand on my arm. "SamandMark. With daily PDA in the halls. They were the IT couple," she said sincerely, eyes wide. "But then suddenly halfway through senior year, it was Sam. And Mark. And that was just totally weird."

"That's enough, Dana," Sam snapped, and her friend stepped away from me, looking a bit ticked off. Sam's bad mood was back, caused by the embarrassment of having me hear all those things. But I took her hand and held it as we walked to let her know it was okay. I didn't care about Mark; I still loved her. Even if she didn't know that.

"I think . . . I think we'll get going now," I said for Sam, sensing that she was tired and crabby and hungry. "It was nice meeting you, Penelope. Dana."

Penelope giggled. "Please, call me Penny. It was a pleasure to meet you as well," she smiled. "I can tell Sam's in good hands."

"Yeah, what she said," Dana re-adjusted her glasses. "You're not half bad, Steve. Even if you're a boring museum curator."

"Hey, I work in a museum, too," Sam frowned. That wasn't a cover. Ever since moving back to New York City, she really had gotten a job at a history museum on Manhattan Island, using the extensive knowledge she acquired in Rome to help her with her work.

"Right, cool," Dana nodded absentmindedly. "See you, Sam." Penny's following goodbye was a lot more heartfelt, and included a hug.

We left the girls in the park, walking back to Sam's Mom's apartment and holding hands on the way, as we watched our breath make tiny clouds in front of our faces. The skies were grey, and I could tell it might snow within the next few days; the frozen grass seemed to justify my prediction.

I looked over at Sam, who was wearing a pink beanie hat to keep her wavy blonde hair from frizzing up. "You look really pretty today, baby," I said, squeezing her hand tighter. She raised her eyebrow at the nickname, but smiled anyway. "What?!"

"I dunno. It's just a funny pet name, I guess. Very fifties."

"I 'died' in the forties."

She looked down at her feet, changing the subject. "I'm sorry my friends are such airheads. Penny's better than that, though – she just acts like a complete dumbass around Dana."

"It's okay," I said. "They're your high school friends. No offense, but from what you've told me, I wasn't expecting much."

"It's okay," she sighed. "I thought I loved them to pieces, but they embarrassed me a lot today. It's high time I get new friends in New York City. I really should go out and meet more people, rather than hang with all the old guys at Avengers Tower," she teased.

Now. Now I should say "I love you." It was the perfect time: unexpected, but it would still work. Still be romantic, in a way. Totally random, but the right moment to pop it. Just three little words.

But I couldn't muster up the courage to say it. Not yet. Instead, I stopped walking, and leaned down to kiss her on the lips instead.

Sam sighed and reached up to run her fingers through my hair, responding enthusiastically and opening her mouth; I did the same as she leaned against me heavily, and I wrapped my arms around her.

Sam broke off suddenly, gasping. "Steve – you – again -"

"Sorry!" I cried, releasing her like a hot pot handle. I had a bit of a problem, I guess you could say. I was too used to using my super-soldier strength for super-soldier things – and quite often, I ended up holding Sam too tightly and cutting off her breathing.

She didn't care, though. Apparently, she found it cute. So Sam wrapped her arms around my neck again and kissed me on the lips, standing on her tiptoes. Then she pulled back and just stared at me.

I looked right back, admiring her beauty. God, I loved her. I really did. Sam was . . . she was the first woman I had ever fallen in love with. I mean, I had loved Peggy – but I hadn't been in love with her. And believe me, there was a big difference.

We walked back to the apartment, where Sam's mother was already in the kitchen, cooking. Lena Silverman looked like an older, skinnier version of Sam, although her nose was bigger and her face more gaunt. Her blonde hair was shot through with grey streaks, and her eyes were piercing blue, unlike Sam's stormy grey ones. Mrs. Silverman was a bit shorter than her daughter, and as a scientist I could tell she wasn't the strongest of women, but her fingers moved quickly and deftly.

"Hey, Mom," Sam smiled, giving her mother a huge hug when we entered the kitchen. Mrs. Silverman hugged her tightly, the muscles straining underneath her pale skin; she pulled back to examine her daughter at arm's length.

"Mom, this is Steve Rogers," Sam fumbled over her words, "my boyfriend."

"Why, it's certainly nice to finally get to meet you!" Mrs. Silverman gushed, walking over to shake my hand and look me up and down.

"The pleasure's mine, ma'am. Samantha talks about you all the time; you've really inspired her in a lot of her work." Behind her mother's back, Sam rolled her eyes.

"Oh, well. My, my," Mrs. Silverman pressed a hand to her chest, flattered and flustered at the same time.

"The apartment's beautiful, Mrs. Silverman," I added. "It's a really nice place that you've bought, and I can tell you take care of it."

"Please, please, call me Lena," she said, a bit breathlessly. She turned to Sam, her weathered cheeks pink. "Samantha, you've told me so much about Steven, but never that he was such a charmer!" I didn't miss the wink and thumbs-up she flashed her daughter; a sign of approval that was supposed to be subtle.

"He's not, he's just sucking up," Sam bit her lip, trying to hold back a laugh.

"No, I honestly like the place," I added sincerely. "Mrs. Silverman, is there any way I can help with dinner?"

She gasped. "Of course not! You're the guest, please, just take a seat," she fluttered her hands, pulling a chair up to the bar. "Samantha, come help me with the salad," she tittered.

"I can do it-"

"No, Steven, no. But would you like anything to drink? Wine? Water? Juice? Milk?"

"Just water's fine, thank you."

She poured me a glass quickly, as Sam set about with the salad. The croutons, she found, were hidden in the walk-in pantry; as she searched through it, Lena walked in to join her. Embarrassingly enough, I heard their entire conversation.

"God, Samantha, what a catch! I mean no offense, but in all my years-"

"You never thought I'd get someone as great as Steve?"

"Well, um, maybe . . . You know I love you, darling, and I think the best of you . . ."

"Offense taken, Mom."

"But he's so charming! And – so handsome! By god, he's one of the most attractive men-"

"MOM!"

Sam stormed out of the pantry, slamming the croutons down on the counter as I tried to hide a laugh. She glared at me, obviously knowing I had heard everything; Mrs. Silverman walked out, a cheeky expression on her face.

After the basic questions – my job, how I met Sam, where I lived – Lena moved on to talk to her daughter. As they took the steak out of the oven later that evening, Sam's eyes widened.

"Mom, this is not enough steak. Steve eats, like . . . a lot," she said.

"No, no, it's perfect," I tried to cover up anxiously.

"His metabolism burns five times faster than that of a normal human," Sam added – it was true, the super-soldier serum made me eat a lot more.

". . . What?" Lena furrowed her brown, and Sam noticed her slip of tongue.

"He just eats a lot!" she squeaked. "But, you know what, this is fine. Just the right amount of steak. Forget I said anything, Mom."

Right as they were setting the table, Lena broached a sore subject that set Sam in a bad mood for the rest of the evening. "Honey," she started, "you know that at work, I still work with your father . . . The restraining order's against you and Luke, not me."

Sam dropped the fork she was holding.

"He's been asking about you, dear. He misses you and he's sorry-"

"I don't care," Sam replied icily.

"I told him you were bringing your boyfriend over for dinner tonight. He really wishes he could be here. He's still your father, after all; he wants to make sure you're okay."

"No, he doesn't give a damn about me," Sam snapped, roughly pulling a plate from the drawer.

"Actually yes, he-"

"I don't want to talk about it!"

"Samantha, please listen-"

"No, Mom," Sam's hands were shaking – and I sensed an anger spell coming on. After being in love for so long, I knew the warning signs.

"He says he might try to come over for dinner tonight, even though it's against the law, and we think it might be good for you to see him again-"

"NO!" she shouted, hurling the plate in her hands at the wall. I leapt up just in time, though; I caught the plate, set it down, and then took Sam's trembling hands in my own. I lead her out of the kitchen and into the living room, sitting her down on the couch beside me. The scar on her forehead flushed white: she was angry, and no longer in control.

Sam's father was an especially sore spot for her and Luke. He was a scientist, and back when Sam was in Grade 12, he had been experimenting with serums like mine, trying to replicate it with a touch of his own - elemental controlling. That was how Sam had gotten her powers: her dad had been drunk one night, and injected her with the serum. Six months later, Lena divorced her husband and had a restraining order drawn up for her kids' protection, even though she still loved her husband. Another six months later, and Luke was diagnosed with depression, stemmed from his father's sudden disappearance – they had been close, and the betrayal had shook Luke.

"Sam, look at me," I said gently, holding her face in my hands and turning it towards me. "He's not going to show up tonight, okay? I won't let him. You're safe, don't worry." She shut her eyes, trying to calm the shaking in her hands. "Do what Doctor Banner suggested. Count backwards from ten, and take a deep breath for each number."

She did as I said, slowing her breathing. Her hands stopped shaking; her scar faded back to pink. I gently took her chin in my hand and leaned her forward to give her a small kiss on the lips.

"I'm sorry, Stevie," she said, opening her eyes. "I don't – I don't know what I'd do without you. Thank you."

"It's okay," I said, brushing her hair out of her face.

Now I could say those three little words. But when I looked up and saw both her mother and Luke standing in the doorway watching us, I couldn't say it.

Lena had a dishcloth in one hand and the telephone in the other; they were both clutched to her chest, as she looked on apologetically. "I . . . I called your father. He's not coming," she said, ashamed. "Steven – thank you. I . . ."

"It's all right. Don't apologize," I said, looking at Luke, who was glaring darkly at me.

Lena said, "She doesn't usually do that, it's only started up since Rome-"

"Mom!" Sam screeched, getting up to storm away; I grabbed her and tugged her back, holding her on my lap as I pressed a kiss in her hair.

"Calm down, love. It's okay," I whispered, catching a whiff of the lavender smell of her hair. "Just sit here with me, okay? Calm down."

Sam exhaled, looking over at her family awkwardly; they got the hint and left, although Luke sent me a particularly nasty look over his shoulder before he disappeared.

"I'm sorry, Stevie," she said again, as I planted a kiss on her neck.

"Don't worry, Sam. Your mom . . ."

"She doesn't understand," she wrapped her arms around my neck, a pained expression on her face. "She doesn't know about," she had trouble getting the word out, "about Daken."

Back in Rome, Sam had gotten into an emotionally and mentally abusive relationship with Wolverine's son Daken, who was known as a villain to the super-world. He left her damaged – more violent than before, more prone to angry outbursts, a bit less controlled. Ever since he convinced her to become the villain Rampage and assist him with his attacks, she'd been a bit off-kilter – she enjoyed the fights with criminals now, finding them more fun than she ever did before. It was . . . unfamiliar and unusual, but I was working on getting her back to her normal, wouldn't-hurt-a-fly self. Of course, hardly anyone knew about the damage Daken had left behind – and therefore, her anger attacks were unexplainable to almost everyone who knew her.

"Dinner's ready," Luke called; Sam and I stood up.

"Hey, by the way," I said, "I'm sorry. About Luke. I'm jeopardizing your relationship with your brother, and-"

"Oh, my God, Steve. Not everything is always your fault," Sam snapped. "Luke's being an ass. You have no right to feel bad. I'm sorry that he's so rude to you," she shook her hair over her shoulder.

"Yeah, but-"

"No buts," she kissed me quickly on the lips to shut me up. "Can we just . . . have dinner, and then get out of here? I'm sorry I ruined everything. I'm just – I'm so tired, and it's been such a long day, with all the airplanes and time change and drama."

"You need to stop apologizing."

"So do you," she narrowed her eyes.

"Don't worry, we'll hop on Tony's jet back to New York City as soon as this is over," I said soothingly. "I'm sure you'll be glad to get into your own bed."

"Yeah," she nodded enthusiastically. "I – thank you, Steve."

"No problem."

C'mon, Steve. Say it now. Tell her you love her. Make this day not a complete waste.

But still . . .

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get the words out. It's so simple: "I love you." And yet . . .

Wouldn't it change everything?

Author's Note: Welcome to those of you who have continued to the second chapter - and thank you! :D

So, I set up two arcs in this chapter. It was relatively fluffy and didn't explain much, but fear not - the next chapter shall answer any and all questions! If you're wondering anything, just pop your question in a review and I'll hop to replying.

Speaking of questions, a lot of you were wondering about Spider-Man and the Winter Soldier. I suppose I may as well respond now: yes, Spider-Man will be in this story, although his part won't be very big. And yes, technically the Soldier (Bucky) will be in it too, although he's not going to come in until the end. But trust me, he'll be the topic of many conversations in the chapters between then and now ;)

Spectacular feedback on the last chapter! Thank you all so, so much for the many great reviews, and thanks to everyone else who followed or favorited this story. I'm so glad that so many of you have followed me and the Avengers over here :D You're in for quite the ride! And special thanks to the astounding reviewers: Guest, LunaTheLoneWolf, cucumbersrockursocks, Chester-Grey, brandibuckeye, Laurafxox, Tbonechick2011, scott6130, Lady Firewing, GoForTehGig, Human-Wolf Hybrid No.008, Shadow Realm Triforce, Torilovesu and CeffylGwyn! The feedback on the first chapter was wonderful, and it made me so happy :) so thank you all!

Thanks for reading, guys, and please leave a review, telling me what you thought of this second chapter! I really appreciate everything you guys say :D

READERS ASSEMBLE!