Day 60:
Have you ever had that moment where you feel like you should
speak, you should express your emotions and feelings through words.
That you should say something?
Only to realise that by keeping silent you've said more than you
could possibly have through words. Because sometimes
moments are so powerful alone, words need not
be there to add to the effect.
"Okay, I'm running late, but Skye knows the rules. She hasn't had dinner yet; there's stuff in the fridge. Thank you so much for doing this."
Steve's standing awkwardly in the foyer of Phil's apartment, watching as his friend rushes around, and he scratches his head, trying to recall how he got roped into baby-sitting a nine-year old on his night off.
"Dad. Don't worry, I'll take care of Uncle Steve."
Steve wants to point out that he has plenty of experience taking care of children, well sick children. Well, he's operated on sick children before. Several times. That's pretty much the same thing isn't it?
"Behave." Phil says as he unlocks the front door, giving Skye a quick hug as she runs to his side, before waving to Steve and stepping out of the apartment.
As soon as the door closes, the lock clicking into place, Skye turns to him with a grin.
"Dad's going out. With a lady friend."
She's wiggling her eyebrows and Steve doesn't even want to know what's going on in her mind. Shuffling on his feet, he scratches his head again.
"Um, how about you go and watch some television or something, and I'll go make your dinner."
Within seconds she's running off into the living room area, and he heads towards the kitchen. He's been to Phil's apartment before; it's not their number one pick in spots to hang out, because of the whole Skye situation, but Steve's familiar enough with the place.
He is however, not familiar with whatever Phil has stocked his fridge up with.
There are packages of raw meat on the top shelf; the rest of the main storage area filled with bags full of various fruits and vegetables. Eggs, milk and bottles of sauces line the door, and with a sigh, Steve lets the fridge close and opens up the freezer.
It's almost completely bare, a tray of ice cubes in one corner and a tub of ice-cream sitting near the back.
No frozen pizzas, no ready-made meals. None of the things that he actually had the capability of making.
How was he supposed to feed her?
Steve's almost sure that throwing a combination of ingredients into a pot and letting them boil until they're probably way over-cooked is not something a child would enjoy eating.
Pulling out his phone from his back pocket, he almost calls the first number on his speed dial, out of habit. Moving his finger over to the number three, he presses call button and holds the device up to his ear, listening to the continuous ringing, until it stops and a female voice comes through.
"Hey Cap, what can I do for you?" Natasha asks, chipper as ever.
"I'm at Phil's with Skye, and I'm supposed to make her dinner.. but.." he trails off and she laughs.
Loudly.
It's a little offensive.
"I'll be there after I stitch this guys chest back up."
There are other people speaking in the background, and Steve can make out the faint beeping of the heart monitor. Figures that Natasha would find a way to answer her phone in the middle of operating on someone.
To her credit, Natasha shows up less than an hour later with Clint in tow.
Skye runs to them as they enter the apartment, excited shouts of "Natasha!" and "Clint!" echoing throughout the room as she hugs them.
Steve's a little miffed at that. Why were they just Natasha and Clint when he was "Uncle Steve"? He can only assume that it's a jibe at his age; but he's not even that much older than them.
"How'd you get stuck with the kid?" Clint asks as they enter the kitchen, Skye having quickly lost interest in them and gone back to her television programs.
"Bumped into Phil on my way out of the hospital. His normal sitter has the flu, and everyone else was occupied so I volunteered," Steve recounts, leaning against the counter as Clint begins to rummage through the cupboards.
"Like a good soldier."
Natasha's hopping up onto the bench beside him, her legs swinging as she finds a comfortable position.
He's only known her for just over a year; they'd started at SHIELD memorial around the same time, and from their first meeting she had attached to his side like a virus to a host cell, and had wheedled her way into his life. She'd even bought the apartment across the hall from him, which wasn't creepy at all.
He had just completed his second tour in Iraq, as an army trauma surgeon rather than a soldier, and she had just finished a two-year cardio fellowship in San Francisco.
He had almost mistaken her for an intern when they first met, because of her age. She's a prodigy of some sort; studying medicine back in Russia and advancing well ahead of everyone else.
Steve's not sure what skill she has that had her identified as a child genius, but if it's mastery is anything like her ability to annoy people, she must be brilliant.
It's entirely her fault that everyone at the hospital calls him Dr. Captain Rogers.
Melinda's slipping into her shoes when the sound of the doorbell ringing announces Phil's arrival. The heels are much too high and her feet will undoubtedly be in pain before the evening ends.
Taking one last glance in the mirror, she hurries out to the front door, grabbing her phone from the kitchen benchtop as she passes.
When she opens the door, Phil's standing there, all dressed up in a suit and a bouquet of pink roses in his arms. The gesture is cheesy, but she's never received flowers before, and takes them with a smile.
He stays by her open door as she walks off into the apartment to look for a vase to place them in. He's watching her with an expression that she can't quite figure out as she moves around the room.
She ends up leaving the roses in a jug that must belong to Peggy, before walking over to him and leading him back out into the hallway, pulling her front door shut behind them.
Phil's made reservations at a restaurant; somewhere fancy, and they're already running a little late, but she still finds herself stopping him before they head out to his car.
"Thank you for the flowers Phil, they're beautiful," she says as she kisses his cheek, not even having to lean up because that is how ridiculously high her shoes are.
He beams at her as he takes her hand, and together they head down the hall to the elevators.
This restaurant is much classier than the diner where they had their first date, and had Melinda felt overdressed earlier, she now feels the opposite. Some of the rocks that adorn the necks of the wealthy women that they pass probably cost more than her salary for an entire year. And as a surgeon she already earns more than most. The thin silver chain around hers pales in comparison.
They're sat at a table near the back corner and Phil pulls out her chair for her once again, like a perfect gentleman.
She watches him over their entrees; spinach and ricotta cannelloni with a tomato basil sauce, admiring the cut of his suit.
She had already found him good looking and adorable the day they met, when he was wearing a pink gown over his scrubs; but he's more than handsome with his red tie and suit jacket and cufflinks, which he had excitedly shown her in the car earlier.
He catches her watching him and his corners of his lips turn upwards, and his eyes don't leave hers as he takes another mouthful of food.
Her hair is curled and swept to one side, and it had been a bitch do to, but she's glad that she made the effort. Her dress is old; the same one she wore to the intern mixer the week before she started her residency. It's a deep red colour with half length sleeves, a square cut and almost nonexistent back; she had shivered earlier when Phil's hand had settled against her skin, his fingertips brushing along the base of her spine.
They each have a prime cut of steak for their main course; accompanied by an iced tea, because Phil has to drive and Melinda isn't big on drinking.
She continues sneaking glances up at him as she eats, almost unaware that his gaze has been lingering over her the entire evening.
Dessert is rich and heaven for chocolate lovers; sweet, but not as sweet as the smile that forms when she allows him to reach over and feed her a spoonful. His face flushes pink as she grabs a napkin and dabs a smudge of chocolate off his upper lip.
They're walking the down the hall, heading back to Melinda's apartment. She's barefoot now, carrying her heels in one hand, the other claimed by Phil. She unlocks the door and drops her shoes and purse inside, before turning back to him.
He smiles into her hair as she wraps her arms around his neck, going onto her tiptoes to rest her chin onto his shoulder.
"I had fun tonight," she whispers into his ear as his arms wind their way around her waist.
"I did too."
She presses herself closer against him and turns her head, kissing his cheek lightly, like she had done just hours ago in this very same spot. His arms loosen, and he's about to take a step back, but she holds him in place with her left arm as her right hand moves to brush the side of his face.
He takes a deep breath as she leans up, simultaneously pulling him down, and presses their lips together. Their eyes fall shut as she runs her fingers through his hair, and his hands move along her back, trying pull her as close to him as possible.
He is distracted when she nips at his bottom lip, and in a flash finds himself pinned against the wall outside her apartment as she continues to explore his mouth. Her hands are gripping the lapels of his jacket, and she doesn't let go, even when she slowly pulls away.
They're both out of breath, faces flushed and hair mussed. She giggles softly, and he can feel his heart beating wildly as he looks down at her. She leans up once more, and presses a chaste kiss against his lips before she slips out of his arms and heads back into her apartment, leaving him leaning against the wall.
He finds himself unable to move for at least another minute, and when he finally does, he raises a hand to his lips as he recalls how incredibly soft hers were.