Ch. 2

Three weeks. It was three weeks of bliss. Steve had traveled before. He had seen wonders that had blown his mind. But he had never been with Stacy.

When he looked back on his life and he was asked to pinpoint some of his happiest moments, those three weeks of his honeymoon were always mentioned. The way her skin smelled like the sun after a day at the beach, the taste of salt at the nape of her neck, the way she looked as she walked around their hotel room wearing nothing but a smile, her musical laughter as she dissolved into a fit of giggles, the soft pressure of her fingertips massaging his scalp.

In his darkest hours, during the hardest days of his life, he would replay those three weeks with his wife on a loop in his mind, remembering what was worth fighting for, who was worth dying for. He was loved and accepted and, in the end, that was all that really mattered.

00000

The day after the wedding, they took Tony's jet to Madrid, staying in a lovely hotel near the Prado Museum. They spent hours wandering the city, eating tapas, drinking sangria filled with fruit, whiling the stuffy summer afternoons away in their hotel room, listening to a different band play every night in the bars and clubs that lined Calle Huertas and the surrounding streets. They spent the better part of one day just at the Prado and Steve must have stood in front of "Las Meninas" by Diego Velázquez for a good thirty minutes, trying to memorize every brush stroke, every curve and line on the canvas.

Then it was off to sightseeing in Sevilla and, after that, sunbathing in Ibiza. After Spain, they made their way to Italy, hitting nearly every museum in Rome, dining in Florence, marveling at the cathedral in Assisi, shopping in Milan, picnicking in a small park in Lake Coumo region.

They ended their time in Paris. Steve remembered the last time he was there, over a year ago. He had been so lonely, so resentful of the happy couples that walked by him. And then, there he was with the love of his life. They spent two entire days at the Louvre and Steve still felt like he hadn't gotten to see all that he wanted. He promised himself that they'd return one day and see all of the paintings that he'd missed.

As Steve and Stacy boarded Tony's jet to go back home, Steve shook his head. He wasn't ready to go back, to break the spell he'd been under. New York, The Tower, S.H.I.E.L.D., everything in their old life seemed like some kind of odd dream. To Steve, the only thing that seemed real was the way Stacy smiled at him, the feeling of her fingers laced in his. Nothing else seemed to matter.

00000

Hours later, Steve and Stacy waited hand in hand for the Tower elevator to take them to their floor, their luggage next to them.

"I can't believe we're back already," Stacy said.

"I know. We should have planned for a longer trip. I should have asked for more time off," Steve said, regret tingeing every word.

She gave his hand a quick squeeze. "Hey, it's fine, honey. Really, it is. We had to come back to reality sooner or later."

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too. You know, I don't know what I'm going to do with myself. I haven't had a summer off work since I was fourteen years old."

Steve smiled. "You deserve it. And, I know you'll be busy. We've got the move coming up."

Stacy nodded. All of her belongings had been deposited in boxes in Steve's apartment the day before the wedding. There was no real need to unpack since they were planning on moving a few doors down to the new three bedroom apartment that Tony had given them.

"I know it's only a few feet away, but it's going to be a pain," she sighed.

"Good thing I'm an expert at heavy lifting," he teased.

"That's true," she said with a giggle.

The elevator doors opened and Steve gestured for Stacy to go first, her wheeled luggage trailing behind her. He had argued that he should carry both bags, but she just shook her head and said she was fine.

They reached the door to Steve's apartment and Stacy looked over at him expectantly, waiting for him to place his hand on the device to unlock the door.

"You do it," he said.

She cocked an eyebrow, but obeyed, her face lighting up with joy as it opened for her.

"You're my wife. You've got the same rights and privileges as I do at the Tower," he said. "This is your home as much as mine," he said. "Well, until we move."

She started to step inside, but he shook his head. "No, I want to carry you across the threshold."

"Sweetie, you did that on our wedding night. And at every hotel room throughout Europe."

"It's tradition," he said firmly.

"Okay, okay," she said and he scooped her up and carried her across the threshold.

"I love you, Mrs. Rogers," he said, as he still held her aloft, walking through the apartment.

"And I love you, Mr. Rogers," she said saucily, her fingers caressing his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

00000

Later on that afternoon, Steve woke up and quickly donned a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. He padded quietly from their bedroom to the dining room, not wanting to wake his sleeping wife. His internal clock was still a bit off from the time change from flying back from Europe earlier that morning. He was not looking forward to work the next day. He decided to rummage through his emails to try to suss out if he'd be staying in for a few more days or going back out on assignment.

Steve regretted that decision.

00000

Fifteen minutes later, Steve gave a start as he felt fingers massaging his shoulders as he sat hunched over his laptop shifting through the hundreds of work emails he received in the weeks he was gone on his honeymoon.

"Hi, sweetie," Stacy said, leaning over, placing a kiss on his neck, and then hugging him from behind. "Any good news?"

"Not really. I've got to go in the next few minutes. Some type of urgent mission. It'll just be for a few days," Steve promised Stacy. The email he saw said that he was needed for an assignment in D.C. When he turned on his phone, he found several texts from Natasha and Director Fury, so it seemed rather important.

"Alright," she conceded, taking the seat next to him. "You know, I checked my texts and Erica and Michael have been begging me to go on this camping trip with them. Maybe I'll tag along."

"That's the spirit. Back to nature. Fresh air. Hiking. You'll love it," Steve said off-handedly as he got up and went to the bedroom to began to repack all of his clothes for the assignment.

Stacy followed him, helping him refold his clothes. "I hate the outdoors. Bugs, dicey bathroom situations, snakes. . . Ugh! But it'll be nice to see them. I haven't gotten to hang out with Erica much since they got married."

Steve stopped his packing for a moment to lean over and kiss his wife. "I am going to miss you," he said huskily, his hand cradling her cheek.

She smiled, leaning into him. "Me too . . . . " After a moment, she shook her head. "Oh, I Erica texted me that there's dodgy cell phone reception up there, so I probably won't be able to call you until I get back."

"I understand," Steve said, gathering up the last few things he needed. "I found out that Peggy is living in D.C. I think I'm going to try to see her if I can. I should have as soon as I woke up nearly three years ago," Steve shook his head. "I don't know why I didn't. Fear maybe. Regret."

He was looking forward to telling Peggy about Stacy and showing her their wedding photos. He was mad at himself that he hadn't gone to visit her sooner.

"You take care," Stacy said, "I love you."

"I will and I love you, too," he said as looked at his wife's anxious face. He lifted up her chin, crouching down a bit to look at her, eye to eye. "Don't worry. It's a standard assignment. I'll be back before you know it," Steve reassured her, tugging her closer for one more kiss.

It would be nearly six months before they were together again.