Thanks to Little Weasley Girl, Archer83, Steph the bat 11, WhatsGoingOn, ConfettiRiot, brucy LittleMissMia123, ren-hatake, garnet86, Magical Faerie, Jen Lennon, aaroniteXkryptonite The Dark side of the Mind, Invader Ivy, Lyssa, and jackiez32. You guys are too much!
Archer83: I absolutely love hearing feedback from you. You don't mind point out what's good/what you like and that helps me go in that direction. Also, thanks! They're all doing a lot better now. :)
ConfettiRiot: Glad to know I'm on the right track. ^_^
LittleMissMia123: Squee! I'm glad you liked it, I really don't know much about specific art supplies and was hoping I didn't screw up there.
ren-hatake: Thank you! 333 And I agree, I think I'm going to make the tension be the death of Steve. Or at least some of morals. Muahahahha.
jackiez32: With all that's happened (the the note), I have to say your review made. my. dayyy. I lost everything on my computer, and then just happened to see your review and perked up and started writing again. You are amazing, miss. 3
Everyone Else: I can't thank you all enough for sticking with my slow ass. You're all absolutely divine and wonderful. xo
*PLEASE, PLEASE READ*:
I am SO sorry about being late, again. My laptop decided to die (of all times...) and well...I have no luck when I really need it. I've done all of this on my iPhone. SOOO, that being said, I'm going to boost the rating to M and give you two mild fluff/very mild smut chapters in close updates that still slightly advance the plot, while I work on re-writing the real chapter 4...or rather 6, now.
Everyone is still in character (I hope). I kind of wanted to explore the more intimate side of Steve, not Captain America's, personality.
I hope that's a fair trade...and I hope it's not horrible. This was done pretty quickly (one and a half afternoons).
Please don't kill the authoress. T^T
6/24/12 edit: Spelling and grammar errors have all (hopefully) been fixed. Thanks for the heads up kristendotcom! ^_^
Warning: Light smut ahead. Skip to the break if you don't like.
*Several Months Later*
His sculpted body tensed as delicate fingers slowly, agonizingly traced small patterns, going lower and lower. She was sitting beside him, lips swollen from all the kisses he'd left on them, but still smirking. Her hair covered her face, obscuring it from his vision. She always did this; always started at his neck, fingers and nails idly and lightly dragging down to his chest.
He sucked in a breath, and knew he was powerless like this. But he was clever; he had a plan in mind, like always. He waited until she leaned in to nip at his neck to pull her close to his powerful chest and flip her much smaller under frame him, pinning her. The sly smile and wriggling in retaliation only served to arouse him more. His pink lips crashed against her full, rosy ones to stop her from getting the upper hand again, while he used one of his knees to part her legs.
The look she gave, full of want for him, for this, was enough to send him over the edge. So, with a fluid snap of his hips, they became one. The rhythm pushed them both into the throes of ecstasy.
Steve Rogers awoke with a flutter of his eyelashes at the morning sun shining brightly through the windows. He felt wonderful, as light as air. The nightmares and the coldness of that cabin, along with thoughts of lost life and time he'd never have back, had slowly been replaced (more often than he'd like to admit) with inadvertent, quite steamy thoughts of a certain brunette agent just a few doors down from him. The fact that she was the one who was currently occupying his racier dreams, and not a certain woman from his past, would concern him had he not been still half asleep. In his present state, he happily went with it.
He stretched his tall body, arching his back and curling his toes. The small pull on his tense muscles felt like heaven; the cool sheets did wonders to calm his racing pulse. This was the closest thing to paradise he'd ever known.
Life, even just surviving, had been a lot harder growing up as a child during the Great Depression. Being a sick child had been nearly impossible.
Removing his face from being buried in the pillows, he glanced down at himself. What he found caused a husky, almost breathy, laugh accompanied by something between a toothy grin and a smirk.
It'd happened again, and he'd lost count how many times this was. The Amy in his dreams had done it to him. She was such a tease in his dreams, so seemingly in control and dominant, even when she was pinned under him. It damn near drove him insane. It didn't help that his hazy, still-sleepy mind let him indulge in the thoughts without any guilt or shame at the moment.
In his current mind frame, he was silently contemplating doing something he'd never done, or even thought of doing. The household he'd been raised in had been highly religious and repressing, and it was engrained that you did not indulge in such vulgar activities for worldly pleasure. It was nothing less than sinful.
If he had been anymore awake, he'd have been disgusted with himself. Yes, he had been in the military, and yes, he had seen some raunchy things. He wasn't exactly a blushing virgin (at least not all the time), though former descriptor was accurate. He was just so...curious. About everything. He had gone his entire life with out any sort of intimate contact, and it ate at him a little. He still didn't have a clue when it came to women, nor did he really have a clue about his own bodily responses.
Using that as his reasoning, he convinced himself to do a little 'exploring', of sorts.
He closed his eyes and let his hand slide up under his plain white shirt, letting his fingers trace over the ridges of his abs. He kept his breath in check and continued to lower his hand, under the sheets and even further under his boxers. He hesitated for a moment, gliding his fingers slowly over the curve of his hip. A small moan escaped his lips. After regaining a little composure, he almost timidly gripped his hardened flesh. He began his ministrations, filling his thoughts with the dream again, and quickly found that the pleasure he was rewarded with was absolutely mind-numbing.
Unfortunately, though, the unfamiliar feeling shocked him into wide awake mode.
Letting go, he let out an embarrassed groan. His arched hips fell back on to the bed, abruptly stopping everything.
What the hell had he been thinking? It wasn't right to degrade someone like that, not to him. He had survived sickness, bullying and the subsequent beatings, Dr. Erskine's experiment, fighting countless HYDRA soldiers, and was still just fine after being thawed out from an icy prison after the better part of a century. His character hadn't been affected by any of it, either.
...So what the hell was this lone woman doing to him to get in his head?
Feeling completely humiliated and ashamed, he quickly got up, and made a bee line for the shower.
Recurring incredibly awkward mornings aside, Steve felt a little more comfortable in the current millennium. He had also grown much more comfortable with Amy, in the sense of having a someone to talk to and not feeling like she had to lead him by the hand through everything.
The super soldier had become quite a bit more independent. He'd gotten a bike, a vintage Harley-Davidson, and thoroughly enjoyed touring Brooklyn on it. Even more, he loved just getting out of the city sometimes. Things were definitely different, but the exhilaration he felt on his bike never failed to make him happy.
The pair still did quite a few things together, though, from cooking to long conversations and stories to watching old war documentaries and movies he could relate to.
He'd particularly enjoyed Cinderella Man, and one series he and the brunette had gotten about halfway through. Band of Brothers, he'd believed was what she called it. The young Captain had been thoroughly engrossed in that one, and was curious to know what happened to the soldiers of Easy Company. It reminded him of himself, Bucky, and his unit of mismatched soldiers. He'd wait on Amy to see the ending, however. He liked the time they had been spending together, and she seemed to get as equally engrossed in it as he did.
Occasionally, she'd even be stirred enough tell both war and personal stories about her grandfather, and he would fill in the blanks of the ones he knew. She'd found his memory of her grandfather addressing him as the 'Star Spangled Man with a Plan' particularly hilarious; she had laughed to the point of tears.
In short, they'd become fast friends, bonding well over what little they had in common.
However, in the few months he'd been living there, he was still struggling with his other feelings about the woman he'd been living with that had slowly come into bloom; the ones that left him a bit...stiff...in the morning. His feelings refused to die down, and he had really no clue on how to handle them. He couldn't say he was in love with the younger woman, and the interactions between them weren't really anything like he'd had with Peggy. They were much more casual and friendly. He just knew he really liked her and was incredibly attracted to her, more than a friend should be, and didn't know how to act on it.
The things his body had been doing in opposition to his mind (and moral fiber) because of his feelings confused him horribly at times.
Further complicating matters was the fact that in his time, relationships and anything intimate were much more of a sacred matter. It was all just so...different now. Completely different, and in a way, the polar opposite. To boot, he still had no clue if there was another lucky someone else for Amy.
...That notion made him inadvertently frown. That wasn't the first time it had crossed his mind, and it probably wouldn't be that last.
Pushing the thoughts aside, he concerned himself more with making a sandwich. That was one thing he absolutely loved about present day. The types of food to try were almost limitless; he did enjoy trying it all. And with a tenfold speed metabolism, he could put away quite a bit of it too.
Steve never forgot how much of a luxury all of this excess was, though. He'd had it pretty hard as a kid. He'd grown up in a poor area of Brooklyn that had been hit harder by everything, and sometimes, any food had been the luxury. Looking back on it, with the medicine he'd needed to just help make breathing easier, it was a bit of a miracle he was alive at all.
The soldier was jarred out of his thoughts by soft, muffled curses and the lock to the garage door turning. Was Amy back already? Usually when she left before he even woke up in the mornings, she didn't return until late.
Naturally, he was surprised when a fairly tall blonde carrying a small, steel case and a variety of files and folders came through the door. She shut it with her foot and did not even seem to notice that he was there as she continued her grumblings about 'having too many damn keys'.
His uneasiness escalated, but nonetheless he was polite. "Do you need some help, ma'am?"
The other blonde glanced up towards him, and gave him an slight smile. It was clear that she was not very weary of him, if at all.
"No thank you, Captain Rogers. I'm just dropping some things off for A.I." Her voice was quiet, calm, and almost soothing. It was just a bit too cool and disconnected for him. Unnerving, even.
"Oh." His tension eased a little. "How do you know my name? And A.I...?" He left the last question open ended, not wanting to sound completely daft.
"You've been the making waves at headquarters since we found you in the ice, Cap, not to mention your little bust out. Both pretty noteworthy, if you ask me." She paused, setting the parcels down on the counter. "And unless I somehow procured keys to another house, which in all honesty isn't unlikely, A.I. is my sister, Amy." The odd woman's voice had the faintest traces of humor in it.
Oh. So this was the older sister that Amy spoke so highly of. Or rather, half-sister. Based on looks alone, he really would have never seen the resemblance. This girl was tall, maybe half a head taller than Amy, and more slender. Definitely pretty, with a grace the brunette didn't really have. Her skin was porcelain, and her shaggy, short mop of hair was even paler; platinum locks peaked out from under her knitted beret. Those fair features made her eyes shine an almost inhumanly deep blue.
He thought it was just a little amusing at how opposite the siblings were.
Trying to ease the tension he felt, he picked up the conversation again. "So you're Riley." He smiled, extended his hand. "Amy talks about you, a lot. It's nice to finally put a face to a name."
The other, smaller blonde walked behind the counter to the soldier and took his hand, shaking it. "Nice to meet the legend himself, as well. I have to say, I'm a big fan."
The soldier's ears tinged red a little, and he brought a hand to the back of his neck. "I'm flattered."
Riley actually smiled a little and leaned against the island counter next to the Captain. It didn't take a genius to see that he was flustered. Deciding to curb her bluntness a little so that he wouldn't feel as awkward, she took a different route in the conversation.
"So how's 2012 treating you? Definitely not 1940 anymore, eh, Dorothy?" Her voice did not change its tone, and she remained completely straight faced beneath the jagged bangs that framed her well-defined features.
It took just a split second for him to catch the reference. When he did, he couldn't help the laughter that erupted from him. He needed that. He was nearly thrilled that he finally heard a joke he actually caught the punch line of.
Catching his breath, he actually answered her question. "It's definitely...eye opening. I don't think I could handle it if it wasn't for your sister. She's...she's something else." His features softened at the mention of Amy.
Riley instantly picked up on his tone and body language. Was this just the repressed forties in him or was he that easy to read? She knew infatuation when she saw it. She had lived it, after all. "I agree. I have to admit I didn't expect her to be this...docile, but I'm glad. She's been a lot happier since she met you, and a hell of a lot less banged up."
He definitely did not miss the tail end of that last statement, and it definitely drew up more questions. He'd often seen Amy come home with little scratches and bruises when she was gone for extended periods of time, some times worse than others. He never questioned it, but that didn't mean he didn't want to know.
Steve was a bit hesitant to ask, but curiosity got the better of him. "What exactly does Amy do, Riley? I see how tired and sore she always is after she's been gone, and I don't like it."
Riley sighed a little, crossing her arms and leaning into the counter more. "I can only tell you this since you're already...involved...with S.H.I.E.L.D, but...you've only met off-duty, sweetheart Amy. She's essentially one of the best spies we have, save for probably Natasha...who's quite a bit more ruthless. They can both blend in to almost anywhere, do almost anything. Give or take quite a beating if they need to. You'd be surprised how many 'people of interest' seem to get off on that." Riley spoke thoughtfully, staring off into space, like she was talking to herself. "Helluva shot too, Amy. It's really impressive, but I think I'll stick to my blades."
She definitely knew how to throw the super soldier off guard. Something was not normal about her. And blades? If she wasn't a spy, why would she need blades? Who – or what– exactly was this woman?
"So...what about you? You're a spy, too?"
She actually looked him in his eyes, and he was slightly taken aback by the emptiness in her own. They looked soulless, almost like a china doll. If the hair on the back of his neck wasn't standing before, it was now. This woman was just slightly creepy to him.
"Nah. Not my thing. I'm one of the heads of weapons and development...but honestly...let's just say I'm a more of a science experiment." She seemed to be choosing her words a little too carefully.
"I definitely know the feeling, believe me." He meant it. There were some days he was shocked he could reach the top cabinets in the house, or finish a workout without an asthma attack.
Riley, without warning, extended her hand with her palm open and fingers slightly curled, towards the bowl of apples sitting on the counter opposite them. With ease, one of the apples popped out of the bowl and zipped across the room and into her hand.
If Steve hadn't been standing right there, he'd have believed what just happened was a clever magic trick. He was completely lost for words, staring at the smaller woman slack-jawed as she began to munch on her apple, looking positively bored.
After taking another bite, Riley answered his unspoken question. "I could tell you were incredulous, Captain Rogers. I'm a little more dangerous than you think. We're a little more dangerous than you think. Things aren't always what they seem."
With that, the woman bid him a short farewell, to which he only nodded, and she left as swiftly as she'd came.
He stood there for a moment, silent, tying to process what exactly just happened.
And here he didn't think things could be any more bizarre.
There! Again, I hope it's not too horrible. I hope to hear from you, reviews let me know what I'm doing wrong and right, which means quicker chapters.
I'm working on Riley's back story leading up to the events of Full Circle as well, if you like her and want to check it out. ^_^
Also, I was thinking of doing a post-Avengers Clint/OC fic. Possibly an dark/human/non-agent OC, which is new territory for me. I love ClinTasha but, there's soo many (really good ones) on here already. Any suggestions for what you'd like to see? I'd like to start taking suggestions.
I'd love to hear them, and will give credit where it's due! :)
'Till next time!
xBreeze
