Oh man. I am so evil.

Crystal-Wolf-Guardian-967: Thank you! I'm glad you love it!

Tippy: I had to make Zinny self sufficient. I mean, she's had a lot of free time and honestly I think Tony would want his kids to be self sufficient. But yee! They are so cute!

BuckyBarnes07: Aren't they adorable!?

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Enjoy!

Life was going well, living in D.C. Steve and I had settled into a rhythm, his morning jogs while I made breakfast before sending him off to SHIELD training while I cleaned and took care of the apartment and any errands that needed to be done. He'd come home to dinner, except for the few times where he'd text me telling me he'd be gone for a few days on a mission. He'd always come back, tired and beat up, but otherwise okay.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't worry about him while he was away on missions. Hell, I worried about him while he was training. I knew he was tough and he had chosen to do this, but I still worried that something would happen. That I'd be jinxed again and this perfect little world we'd created would be torn away. Steve had already been through so much, the thought of him losing this sense of normalcy made a painful knife twist itself into my gut. That, and I was terrified of losing Steve.

Yeah, I had fallen that hard.

We had gotten closer over the past few months, more physically comfortable around each other. Steve was still the perfect gentleman, but we were more relaxed around each other now. Our spots on opposite sides of the couch had been abandoned for sitting next to each other in the middle. We stood closer when we cooked together, not afraid to squeeze around each other. If anyone who didn't know us had seen us together, they might have thought we were a couple. But we weren't.

I wanted us to be though. I was afraid to make the first move, terrified that I would be too forward and scare him away. But I was also worried that if I didn't make the first move, it would never happen. We were stuck, and I wasn't sure whether or not he wanted things to move forward. I was determined to find that out.

Steve had weekends off of training unless he was away on a mission. We had spent the day inside, Steve hiding from the masses since the Smithsonian museum had got him to agree to doing an exhibit on him. He had finally revealed his secret identity to the world. It was a big deal for him, but I promised I'd be there to fight of paparazzi. I'd been doing that my whole life.

I was currently sitting in front of the TV, watching the news while Steve worked on my hair. My hair was always a constant battle, and with the humidity of the summer it was even worse. I had all but given up that night when Steve had offered to help.

"Steve Rogers knows how to do hair. Who'd a thunk that."

Steve shrugs, running the comb through my curls section by section. "I used to be around showgirls all the time. I got a lot of experience doing hair."

"None of them had hair like me though." I didn't mean to sound disappointed, but I had seen the tapes. None of the girls had looked like me.

"Not exactly. But there were some with some pretty stubborn curls. All it takes is some patience and the right kind of comb."

I must have not seemed very convinced because he stops, and I can feel him lean over me a little. "Hey, don't compare yourself to them." I lean back, looking up at him. "You're far more beautiful than any of them ever were."

I don't completely believe him, but I can't help but smile. "Thank's Steve."

I straighten back up, letting Steve continue to work while I watch the TV. The news anchor was talking about the exhibit and how there was no news about what Steve Rogers was doing currently. Currently he was trying to get a comb unstuck from the venus comb trap I called my hair.

"You know there's going to be rumors."

He pauses in brushing my hair, and I can sense his question without him even having to ask.

"As soon as someone sees us out together, there's going to be a flood of rumors. Are we dating? How long have we been together? Does my dad know we're together or are we in a secret relationship? How does my dad feel about his daughter dating one of his fellow Avengers? Stuff along those lines."

Steve's silent for a while, working the rest of the way through my hair, before braiding it back for me. His fingers are rough and calloused as they brush against my neck, and I can't help the goosebumps that form on my skin. The thought of those fingers all over my skin have my stomach twisting in a delicious way. I fight back the blush that threatens to form on my face, focusing on the news reporter's ridiculously bright shirt instead.

"You think there will be a lot of rumors?"

I nod. "Yup. The press is going to go crazy. Of course it'll blow over in a couple weeks, but there's going to be a lot of crazy press trying to follow us, figure out what's going on."

"Is there any way to prevent that?"

"Besides hiding out here and not going out in public together for a long time? Not really. But if it does happen, the quickest way to get rid of it is to just face it head on and tell the truth."

"And what would we tell them?"

"Can't a guy and a girl be friends? Go out and do stuff together and have it not be a date? I'll just have to do damage control and try to make sure my dad doesn't make things worse by being himself as usual."

Steve is silent as he finishes my hair, deciding to call it a night early. I can't help the nerves that eat away at my stomach all night long, the fear that I'd said too much and had already driven him away before I could even tell him how I feel.

Steve is up early the next morning as usual. But instead of a quiet apartment, I hear music playing. I had gotten Steve a record player for his birthday so he could play his records. One of them was currently playing, one of Steve's favorites.

I slide out of bed wearing one of Steve's shirts and a pair of leggings. I head towards the door, barefoot as I make my way into the kitchen. Steve's standing at the fridge, looking through it.

"Someone's in a mood this morning."

Steve turns around, smiling at me as he holds a carton of strawberries. "Yeah, I was just doing some thinking."

I slip into the kitchen, grabbing the orange juice as Steve slices some strawberries to put on the French toast that was currently cooking on the stove. "What kind of thinking?"

He smiles. "Oh, you know, just about life."

I snort. "That's rather specific."

He smiles, sprinkling some powdered sugar on the French toast before handing me a plate. "Eat up. There's plenty."

I know he's avoiding talking about something, but I brush it off as I carry my plate and the orange juice to the table. He plates up his half a loaf of French toast before joining me, and we eat while listening to the record play. I can tell there's something on Steve's mind as we eat. He tries to distract himself with the newspaper, but I can tell he's not really paying attention to what he's reading.

The song changes, one of my dad's favorites coming on. The Irving Berlin classic "Cheek to Cheek." I grin, standing up, offering Steve my hand. He looks at my hand, up to my face before looking back and forth a few times.

I giggle. "Dance with me!"

He stutters a little. "I've never...I haven't...I don't know…"

I gape at him. "You don't know how to dance?" He shakes his head, his cheeks pink. "Come on. I'm teaching you." I grab his hands, pulling him up.

I get him in the right place, putting his hand on my back before taking his other hand, starting to sway a little to the beat of the music. He does surprisingly well, not even stepping on my toes. We dance through the song, and it changes to a different one, "How Deep is the Ocean?" I smile, leaning in closer to him, letting him lead.

"Do you want to tell me what you were thinking about?"

He's silent for a moment. "What you said yesterday. About the rumors." My stomach drops a little. "I've been living with rumors about who Captain America is since New York. If he was the original or if he was a descendant. And now the truth is out. In my experience, though it's not much, it's always better if the rumors are true."

I smirk a little bit, butterflies fluttering in my stomach as I turn my head to look at him. "What are you implying, Captain?"

He smiles a little. That ridiculously cute half smile that I love. "That this one should be true before it even gets a chance to be a rumor."

It takes me a moment to make sense of his words. We're still dancing swaying to another romantic Irving Berlin song, Steve's grip around me tighter than it had been. Our breaths are mixing with how close our faces are, and I can see the bit of green in his blue eyes.

"Do you mean…"

He cuts me off, leaning in to press his lips to mine.