AN: Sorry about the wait guys. I've been ridiculously busy because finals suck ass. To make up for it, this is a huge freaking chapter. The good news: its basically Christmas break so I will have 4 blissfully uninterrupted weeks of writing. I've got some more chapters lined up so we'll be getting back on our weekly schedule.
Some of the stuff in this chapter is probably not lined up with strict Marvel Comic Universe backstory, but it serves its purpose. Happy reading!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. :)
"Oh, no, Charlotte, that's just-" Steve stopped, standing next to me as I stared down at a sketch of my face. It was incredibly well done and detailed, down to the small birthmark on the tip of my left cheekbone. It was beautiful, I was beautiful. In his eyes, truly beautiful, all rounded curves, plump lips and huge eyes. It was like looking in a mirror if the mirror automatically made the viewer younger and more perfect.
"Steve, is this, is this how you see me?" I asked softly, looking up at him. Steve sighed, taking the sketchpad from my hands and setting it back on the table. He reached over, gathering my face in his hands, pulling my gaze up to his.
"It is. You're beautiful. I saw it the first time I met you. You fell into my arms and looked up at me with such bewilderment," Steve chuckled, his thumb tracing my cheekbone, blue eyes smiling down at me. "You were beautiful when you called me 'boy scout' and when you told me for the third time that you did not need to go to the hospital." his eyes met mine, and his smile fell a bit, "I don't know what it is, but since then I haven't been able to get you out of my mind. Charlotte, I-"
"We should eat." I blurted out, thoroughly rattled by the words coming out of his mouth. Steve's face fell a bit and he looked down, dropping his hands from my face, shoving them into his pockets.
"Yeah, we uh, we should," he turned toward the table, taking his seat. I sighed and closed my eyes briefly, feeling like an idiot. That had been just a bit too much to handle but I definitely hadn't dealt with it like a grown up. Steeling myself silently I walked around the table, taking a seat opposite Steve.
"I'm sorry Steve. I just-"
"No, its fine. Don't worry about it," he replied, smiling softly, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. I kicked myself internally, reaching my hand across the table to touch his.
"No, Steve, it's not. I didn't mean anything by it, I was just kind of surprised. I haven't had the best luck with guys in my life and we've only known each other for a few days, but," I paused, trying to work through my feelings, taking a deep breath before continuing, "I know how you feel. I feel the same way and it's kind of scary." I looked up at him, meeting his gaze, blue eyes staring into mine. "This is happening fast, and I'm having a hard time making myself take a step back. But for now, lets just eat, okay? We can figure these things out later." Steve smiled softly and nodded slowly, turning to his plate.
"This looks great Charlotte, I haven't had a homemade burger in forever," He piled on toppings, and I watched in amazement as the burger seemed to grow three inches. I chuckled.
"Enough toppings Blue Eyes?" I smirked and Steve looked up, grinning.
"There's so much of everything now. So many options, so many choices. I've never considered putting onion rings on a burger," he mused as he did just that, "but someone at the diner we were going to go to recommended it and its delicious." He smushed the burger to a more manageable size and took a huge bite. I chuckled, munching on an onion ring absentmindedly. His eyes closed and he smiled around his mouthful of burger.
"Good?" I asked. He nodded, swallowing his bite.
"Fantastic. I think it might be better than the diner on 23rd," I grinned, taking a bite from my own burger, "Where'd you learn to cook? First the apple tarts, now these. You didn't even use a recipe." Steve wondered aloud.
"Oh I always follow a recipe," I admitted.
"Really? I didn't see one." I smiled, tapping the side of my head.
"The recipes are up here. I like reading cooking blogs and watching Food Network, probably a lot more than I should. Whenever I read or see a recipe I just kind of remember it. Especially if its something that's bad for you. Which is why I make a mean burger. Salad, not so much." Steve chuckled.
"What about you? Do you cook at all?" I asked, Steve shook his head.
"Not like you. I can barely heat up a can of soup," he smiled self-deprecatingly, shyly look up from his meal. "I can however, put together a great breakfast." I smirked.
"Is that an invitation?" I asked suggestively and Steve choked a bit on his beer, looking up at me in surprise. I laughed, grabbing my last onion ring. "I'm kidding boy scout. Calm down." I stood, grabbing my plate and his, returning to the kitchen and placing them in the sink. Steve followed as I hopped up onto the counter next to the sink. Steve began stacking dishes, filling up the sink with water and soap.
"Now for my favorite part of cooking. Not having to clean up." I smirked, crossing my legs primly. Steve smiled at me. From my seat on the counter, we were actually eye level for once.
"You had that rule growing up too huh?" he said and I chuckled.
"Kind of. It was sort of my own rule when I was living at school. She who cooks shall not clean. Simple as that. I didn't wash a dish my entire junior year," I replied smugly. Steve chuckled.
"It was my mom's rule in the house growing up. Dad didn't mind cooking or washing, so it was a toss up most nights," he replied.
"What were your parents like? We already established that you were an only child, but where'd you grow up? What'd your parents do?" I asked, curiosity getting the best of me. Steve smiled at me, brows raised, obviously surprised at this line of questioning.
"Well, they got married young. Mom was a teacher, Dad worked in construction. We lived in Brooklyn. It took them a long time to have a kid, my mom had a lot of miscarriages before she got pregnant with me." Steve's eyes filled with sadness, taking on a far away look as he scrubbed the dishes. "They were thrilled when I was born. Mom quit her teaching job to stay home and take care of me. When I got sick, and trust me, I was always sick as a kid, things got rough. They were tough though, and so in love. We didn't have much, but we made do. There was never any lack of love in that little apartment. When dad died on a site when I was 16 mom was at a loss. We barely got through those years. I began studying art after high school, paying for it by working as a clerk and mom scraping pennies whenever she could. Suddenly there was the war and the serum, and then here we are." He drained the sink, eyes still downcast.
"What happened to your mom?" I asked softly.
"She passed away in the fifties. Thankfully Peggy had arranged things for her after they thought I died. I sent mom any money I earned while I was deployed and Peggy made sure that she still got the money every month. They took care of her, gave her money for a place to stay. She didn't want for anything those last few years and for that I'll always be grateful. I just wish-" he stopped, drying his hands.
"Wish what?" Steve looked up at me, his eyes grieving, a glimpse of the small boy that had lived in Brooklyn nearly 80 years ago showing through.
"I just wish I could have seen her again," he finished. My heart broke for him and I opened my arms, bringing him in for a hug. I rubbed his back slowly, wishing to give him the chance to go back, the chance to live the life he would have had waiting for him had he not been in that plane. I could feel him breathe deeply, his shoulders rising and falling with each too evenly controlled breath. He was just so solid beneath my hands, and as his arms wrapped around me, I felt an immediate sense of comfort and safety, so much so that I began to wonder who was soothing who. Even in his grief, Steve radiated security and immovable strength.
After a moment or two, he pulled back slightly placing a large hand on my cheek, cupping my face. I mirrored the gesture, watching him nuzzle his face into my hand. I watched my hand draw patterns over the left side of his face, tracing those high cheekbones, strong jaw and poet's mouth. He returned the favor, thumb skimming my brow, cheek and along the bottom of my lips, leaving the skin tingling from his touch.
His eyes met mine, the sadness I had seen before fading away as he focused on my lips, watching as they parted slightly beneath his thumb. It was as if we were both trying to learn each others faces, trying to uncover secrets and pieces of each other without using any words at all. He gently guided my lips to his, his hand on the back of my neck. Our lips met, warm and tender at first, and my mind went fuzzy. Slowly but faster than I could anticipate, the kiss grew more fervent, more desperate. His hand tensed on the back of my neck, changing the tone of the kiss. My hand, resting on his broad shoulder tightened, grasping the fabric of his shirt as heat pooled within me. I found myself desperate for him, lips moving urgently, hands grasping harder, kisses growing deeper. His hand found the small of my back, pulling me toward him. I opened my legs unconsciously and scooted toward the edge of the counter, my hips meeting his, sending a burst of heat through me. I whimpered in pleasure softly at the feel of his hips against mine and Steve drew back quickly as if I had burned him, taking a step backwards before turning away and rubbing the back of his neck nervously. The places where we had touched cooled quickly, and I crossed my legs again, feeling doubts and shame creeping in.
"Steve?" I asked hesitantly. I had done something wrong, I was sure of it. I had upset him somehow and I hated myself for it. The molten heat that had been pooling low in my stomach cooled and hardened fast, leaving me feeling slightly queasy.
"I'm sorry Steve, I-" Steve turned, a fierceness in his eyes that made me swallow the rest of my words.
"Sorry? What could you possibly be sorry for?" he asked, frustration in his tone, "I should be the one saying sorry. I lost control, I shouldn't have done that."
"Done what?" We were just kissing," I replied incredulously.
"Just kissing? That was not just kissing. For godsakes Charlotte I almost took you on the kitchen floor!" My brows shot up in shock.
"Steve, that was a long way from you taking me anywhere," I countered.
"It was too intense. We barely know each other. How can it possibly be this difficult to control myself around you," he trailed off, talking to himself rather than actually addressing me. I blushed in pleasure, but he continued, obviously upset with himself, "That wasn't appropriate, and its all my fault," he finished, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring at the floor. I hopped off of the counter and walked over to him, taking his face into my hands, pulling his gaze to meet mine.
"Steve, we were just making out. Yeah, it was kind of intense, but not in a bad way. I was enjoying myself, weren't you?" I asked softly. He nodded.
"Of course I was. That doesn't give me an excuse to take advantage of you," he replied quietly.
"Oh Blue Eyes, I would have stopped you if I felt we were going too far. You may be Captain America but trust me when I say I can hold my own, okay?" he met my eyes hesitantly, a smile ghosting over his lips.
"I have no doubt that you could Charlotte." I grinned, dropping my hands from his face and taking a step back towards the living room.
"Good. Now, what are we going to do with the rest of our night?" I asked, "Its still barely 9. The night is young." I opened my arms wide, gesturing out to the city. Steve looked unsure.
"I don't really know. I didn't plan this far," he admitted.
"That's fine. We'll find something." My eyes focused on the huge flat screen TV on the other side of the room and I grinned.
"I know! Wanna watch a movie?"
"Uh, I don't really know how to work that thing, but if you can get it to cooperate, by all means," he replied, taking a seat on the couch.
"Fair enough. Considering how well Tony stocked the kitchen I would expect that he would at least hook you up with Netflix." I squatted down to fiddle with the TV, turning it on and playing with the remote.
"Netflix?" Steve asked. I worked my way through the home page interface on the television before my eyes finally caught sight of that well known little red icon.
"Yes, Netflix," I clicked on it and the app opened up. I rose, taking a seat next to Steve, "It's an online streaming service that lets you to watch movies and television shows whenever you want. So," I mused," what cinematic treasures from the last 70 years do you absolutely need to see..." Steve's face lit up and reached over to grab a small journal from a nearby table, flipping through the leatherbound pages.
"The team's been giving me suggestions nonstop over the past few months, Tony mostly. Lets see, Star Wars, Rocky, The Godfather, Lord of the Rings," Steve listed off. I shook my head, scanning through the options on the screen.
"Eh, all very important, but those are movie marathon worthy, not exactly conducive for a date." I mused, scrolling up to find the perfect choice.
"Aha! Perfect!" Steve looked up from his notebook to study the screen.
"Forrest Gump?" he asked.
"Yes. It's a classic and it basically takes you through the major events of the 20th century, but through a different perspective then you'd get in any of the history briefings I'm sure you've had. Very well done movie, won a bunch of awards." Steve shrugged.
"Sure, sounds good." I grinned and clicked play, taking a seat next to him and sneakily grabbing the leather bound journal from his lap. I flipped through pages and pages of little notes and lists, all written in even and surprisingly elegant cursive, just another reminder of what decade Steve had actually grown up in.
"Who's been giving you these recommendations?" I asked, "They're all over the place. 'Try thai food', 'go to 3D movie', 'play Call of Duty'." Steve looked down from the movie, watching me play with the pages.
"Everyone really. Those are from Barton and Dr. Banner," I flipped to one and pointed it out.
"'Go to strip club'?" Steve blushed all the way to his ears.
"That would be one of Tony's." He gently eased the book from my hands and set it on the table next to him. I chuckled, popping off my heels and curling my legs next to me on the couch, trying to get comfortable. As we watched Forrest break his leg braces mid run, I couldn't help but begin to lean towards Steve. He was so warm and solid, and perfectly positioned for me to lean on him.
Apparently I wasn't exactly being subtle about it, because Steve smirked silently and shifted his arm, making room for me there. I snuggled closer, placing my head on his shoulder, his strong arm wrapped around me, holding me close. The thumping of his heart sounded evenly against my chest and I couldn't help but smile.
I turned my attention back to the film, but Steve's hand had not so subtly wandered to my knee, long fingers tracing patterns in the fabric, burning through the fabric of my dress and stockings. I shifted, looking up at his neck, the tendons and muscles moving with his adam's apple when he swallowed, a vein on his neck pulsing with each heartbeat. Giving into temptation, I leaned up, placing a kiss there on the pulse point. His skin was soft and warm and he smelled amazing.
Tracing kisses over his neck, I worked my way up to his ear, nibbling gently. Steve shuddered quietly and I grinned, tracing a finger down his jaw line to bring his lips to mine. The kiss was gentle at the beginning, but as heat courses through the both of us, the tone changed, becoming more demanding. Swinging my leg around to straddle him, I took his face into my hands, deepening the kiss. His hands grasped my thighs, hands tightening and bunching the fabric, revealing the tips of my stockings and the beginning of my garter. His lips left mine, only to find purchase in the sensitive skin right below my chin, working their way down to the hollow of my collar bone. Heat pulsed through me and I arched into his touch, one of Steve's hands now there at the small of my back, supporting the arch, the other cupping the back of my neck, bringing my lips back to his. I whimpered softly against him, arching to press my body against his once more. Steve broke the kiss, and stared at me breathlessly for a moment, his blue eyes fiercely trying to figure me out.
"Charlotte, we can't do this." he murmured, trying to be reasonable, "As much as I want to. For godsakes, we don't even know each others' full names." I sighed, sitting back on the couch, knowing full well that he was right. We sat in awkward silence, my hands clasped in my lap as we watched Jenny run to Forrest through the reflecting pool in Washington D.C.
"Charlotte Alexandra Samuels," I blurt out, almost blurring the words together.
"What?" Steve asked, looking down at me, brows knit in confusion,
"Charlotte Alexandra Samuels," I repeated, "that's my full name. Yours?" I asked, smirking up at him mischievously. A smile slowly crept over Steve's features as he began to realize what I meant, turning into one of his signature million-watt grins.
"It's Steven Thomas Rogers," he answered.
"Good. There we are, now we both know each othe-" I barely get the sentence out before I was back on the couch again, this time with Steve's firm body pressed against mine, being kissed senseless. Giggling against his lips, I wrapped my arms around his neck, anchoring his body to mine. His right hand began to wander, playing with the fabric of my dress and tracing his fingers up over my hips and waist to where my torso flared out to my breasts. His hand paused ever so slightly, tracing the curve hesitantly before cupping my breast softly. I let out a little sigh of contentment, moving against him, feeling his hardness press against my thigh. A sudden sense of nervousness leaked into his movements, his hands becoming more hesitant, kisses less sure. My brows knit in confusion and I pulled back from the kiss, framing his face in my hands to look into his eyes.
"Steve, what you said earlier, about pressuring me, I don't want you to feel like I'm pressuring you into anything either." I told him softly, trying to read his expression. I could see his eyes cloud over with some sort of internal struggle, finally clearing to meet mine nervously.
"Its just-I've never done this before Charlotte," he said, his voice faint and low.
"Neither have I really. I don't usually do this on first dates-"
"No, you don't understand," he backed off, sitting up next to me. I sat up, kneeling next to him. Steve sat, staring at his hands, refusing to meet my eyes. I touched his knee softly, trying to recapture his attention.
"What's going on?" I asked softly.
"Charlotte I've never done this before," he repeated, looking up at me, eyes full of meaning, a glimmer of fear on his strong features. Understanding washed over me and I sat back on my heels slowly.
"Oh," I said dumbly. We sat for a moment in silence, watching Steve stare at his hands.
"So?" I asked, breaking the silence.
"What?" Steve looked over at me.
"So?" I repeated, "That doesn't matter Steve. What matters is whether or not you want this."
"Of course I want this-" Steve turned quickly to me and I held up my hands to stop him.
"I know. I want this too, but if we're going to do anything, you need to be sure that you want to take this step. I don't want to pressure you into anything." I leaned over, kissing him on the cheek softly before making myself put my shoes on and rising. We both needed to take a step back. This was moving entirely too fast and I wasn't about to take Steve's virginity on a whim. He deserved more than that.
"It's better this way, I promise. As much as I want this, I could never forgive myself if I ever hurt you, Steve." I tried to keep the emotion out of my voice as I gathered my things and walked over to the elevator. I was going to need a long cold shower tonight but Steve deserved the chance to think about this before it happened. This was the honorable and right thing to do. It was a simple kindness that I wish that I had been afforded.
"Charlotte, wait!" Steve called out, rising from his seat on the couch. I turned at the elevator, ready to reason with him.
"Steve, this is-" I started, but swallowed the words as Steve kissed me, trapping me against the door with his body. He pulled back briefly to search my eyes.
"Do you want this Charlotte Alexandra Samuels?" I nod.
"Yes, of course," I answered breathlessly.
"Are you turned off because I've never done this? Is that why you're leaving" he asked, his tone surprisingly even. My brows knit in indignation.
"Of course not! That doesn't matter at-" he silenced me again with a knee weakening kiss.
"Do you trust me?" he asked, his blue eyes blazing into mine, fierce and sure. I nodded.
"Of course I do Steve," I murmured, bringing a hand to his cheek.
"Then trust me when I tell you that I know what I can handle. I may not be experienced but I know how I feel. I want you Charlotte. I can't stop thinking about you, can't get you out of my mind. I know its insane, I know its too soon, but I want this, and I'm sure. Are you?"
AN: Because consent is SEXY you guys. Is Charlotte sure? Are they gonna let their passions take control? Lets see...
Review!
