Day 14
The night before, after lying in bed for hours with a bad case of sexual frustration, I actually got a decent night of sleep. When I woke up, Steve was nowhere to be found. It was early, but I wanted to spend my last few hours in D.C. with Steve. I quickly showered, feeling the familiar anticipation of loneliness settle over me.
No lights were on inside the apartment, casting a certain melancholy feeling over the place. If I were alone in such a state, it would put me in a very sad mood. Steve didn't seem to mind as he poured over his morning newspaper, coffee in hand. The curtains by the table were open, revealing a light drizzle of rain. Steve's presence practically lit the room.
"Good morning," I said.
Steve smiled when he saw me. "Morning," he said, standing up to offer me his seat. "How did you sleep?"
I sat with a grateful nod. "I slept great, thanks. How about you?" Glancing over the newspaper in front of me, I noticed the headline: "Stark Industries to Expand Avengers Tower in NYC."
"Pretty good," Steve said, pouring another mug of coffee. "Cream only, right?"
"Yes, please."
I was beginning to associate early morning coffee sessions with Steve. Usually when I drank coffee this early, it was purely for the caffeine and not at all enjoyable. But with Steve, it made for good memories. I felt a tug at my heartstrings when I remembered my flight back to NYC that afternoon.
"You're in the paper," I noted, accepting a steaming mug from Steve. He sat across from me with a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"Stark is in the paper, you mean." Steve took a long swallow of black coffee. "As usual."
My eyes skimmed over the article, catching the phrase: "Pepper Potts has been no stranger to controversy since becoming CEO of Stark Industries." I shook my head at the sensational journalism. "People do love Ironman," I murmured, glancing up at Steve.
He quirked an eyebrow. "Do you?"
I carefully swallowed my sip of coffee before it went down the wrong pipe. "I guess you could say I'm a fan." Steve feigned a hurt expression, and I laughed. "It's hard to live in New York and not know who Ironman is. I remember watching him on the news as a kid."
Steve nodded with a knowing expression. "He has his flaws, just like everyone. But he is a great man. He cares about people." His tone was one of respect. "I'll introduce you to him one day."
My coffee did go down the wrong pipe this time. I coughed into my elbow while dismissing Steve's concern with a wave of my hand. "I'm fine," I rasped, clearing my throat. "But that's a terrible idea," I added.
"Why?" Steve deadpanned.
"I would embarrass you. And myself." I met his doubtful look with a weighted one. "I don't know how to function around famous people."
Steve crossed his arms, half smile in place. "You seem to function fine around me."
A blush crept up from my neck to my cheeks. "Well...," I began, searching for words. "I … didn't know you were famous when we first met."
"I'm teasing you, Kate." His voice was low and amused.
I let my face fall into my palm while embarrassment rushed through me. "Steve," I breathed out. "See what I mean?" I looked up to find him holding back laughter.
"You don't have to if you don't want to," Steve said. "But you wouldn't embarrass anyone. If anything, Tony would be the embarrassing one."
I mulled the idea over my mind, feeling anxious just picturing it. "I'll think about it."
Breakfast was quick and delicious. Steve stated he wanted to show me one last spot in the city, which hastened his actions. The dishes were washed, dried, and put away by the time I was ready to walk out the door.
Instead of taking the metro, we called a cab. Steve wanted to keep the destination secret, but I heard him murmur to the cabby. "Washington Cathedral, please," he said.
The cathedral looked like something out of a 16th century documentary. I had seen cathedrals in NYC before, but not nearly as impressive or well maintained. The taxi dropped us off at the side entrance, where giant wooden doors dwarfed even Steve. We entered the lobby to see tourists and tour groups scattered about, studying plaques and artifacts behind glass.
"Behind on your confessions, Steven?" I teased as I followed him through the crowd. My heart fluttered when he laced his fingers loosely with mine.
Steve shrugged. "Not a Catholic."
My feet came to a halt when Steve side stepped around a red velvet cord that blocked the entrance to a stairwell. Shocked by his disregard of the rules, I looked up to find an equally shocked Steve.
"What are you doing?" I asked, eyes scanning around for a sign or instruction. A standing plaque read, "Please use main elevators to ascend. Thank you."
"Just trust me," Steve said with an uncharacteristically rebellious glint in his eye.
I would have laughed if I hadn't been worried about someone spotting us. "Okay," I whispered, quickly following him into the stairwell.
A service elevator peeked out from behind a sliding door, which Steve opened with ease. The words "Staff Only" vanished as the elevator doors slid open. Steve gestured for me to enter first. We met eyes as the elevator closed, and Steve gave me a sheepish look.
"So naughty," I taunted. "I didn't know Captain America could break the rules."
Steve laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know a guy who knows a guy."
Deciding not to question him, I glanced around to see the elevator was more of a lift with iron slats for walls. Floor after floor sped passed until we reached the top. I felt the squeeze of nerves as we stepped off into a small area with construction equipment scattered about. Yellow tape stood in for safety rails all around the open area. With a start I realized we were on one of the decorative balconies of the cathedral.
"Are we supposed to be up here?" I asked, feeling my heart rate pick up.
"Depends who you ask," Steve hedged, tucking his ball cap into his back pocket. He walked haphazardly close to the yellow tape and looked down, causing my chest to tighten with worry.
"Steve! Be careful, please," I said shakily.
Steve looked at me in alarm, seeming to realize I was still on the lift. "What's wrong, Kate?"
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the floor to stop lurching back and forth. "I'm—" I swallowed, trying to get rid of the sudden dryness in my mouth. "I don't like heights."
Steve's concerned expression melted into an amused smile. He approached me with an outstretched hand. "You've got to see this view," he said gently.
I took his hand, trying to ignore the fact that my hands were cool and clammy. Eyes pinned on the ground beneath me, I stepped towards the edge with Steve. My stomach twisted into knots as I felt the cool breeze rush through my hair. When Steve urged me to look up, I did.
The first structure I recognized was the Washington Monument, standing just beside the Pool of Reflection. Other memorials and government buildings popped out among the green parks and gray pavement. The buildings looked like little toys placed here and there throughout the city. Cloudless and blue, the sky above wrapped the horizon like the backdrop of a painting.
"Wow," I breathed, feeling my voice carried away by the wind.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Steve said beside me. I realized that his hand had moved to the small of my back, protective and supporting.
"It is," I agreed, taking in a lungful of clean air. My nerves had almost completely disappeared. Just don't look down, I reminded myself.
Steve's thumb traced small circles on my back, and my mind recalled the scene from the night before. I spent a minute trying to think of how to bring it up without sounding like a horny teenageer. "I used to come here a lot," Steve said, breaking my train of thought, "after I woke up."
Sobering at the thought, I felt my lips form a line. I wanted to see his face, but I didn't want to break away from him. "I can't imagine what were going through back then," I murmured.
Steve let out a rare sigh; I imagined his icy blue eyes gazing out over the city. "I felt more lonely than I ever thought was possible. Lonely and lost …," he trailed off.
My chest clenched as I pictured a younger Steve, suddenly ripped away from the world and the people he loved. I pictured the longing look in his eyes at the museum as he recalled Bucky and Peggy, two dear friends—now ghosts from his past life. I bit my lip when an icy feeling shot through my veins at the thought of losing my own "life."
"It makes me grateful for what I have now," Steve continued, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
I did pull back to see his face then. He was already looking in my direction with the whisper of a smile on his lips. His windswept hair brushed his eyes. "You're such an optimist—I don't know how you do it," I breathed.
"I've lived a blessed life," Steve explained. "Two lives, actually." A smirk appeared.
I laughed nervously, fixing my eyes back on the landscape ahead. It was moments like these that emphasized the differences between us. Him—a well-traveled, sophisticated soldier and me—a plain, ordinary girl from NY. It was a wonder he saw anything in me other than a warm body.
A sudden fluttering of wings to our right caused me to jolt in surprise, staggering into the yellow tape. I let out a shriek when I looked straight down at the ground, about twenty stories below. Steve pulled me away from the edge with surprising force, saying, "I got you, I got you."
My heart was racing. My eyes were clenched shut and my head was spinning. I tried to slow my ragged breathing. Shaking my head, I peeled my eyes open to see Steve's incredulous face.
I flushed a deep, deep red.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah," I hedged, suddenly becoming aware that I was in Steve's arms. "Damn pigeons."
Steve let out a good-natured laugh. His eyes were almost glowing as he looked down at me. The light from the late morning sun lit his hair like a golden halo. A warm hand came up to cradle my face; I involuntarily leaned into it. "Kate …"
I reached up to place my hand over his. "Yeah?" I said.
Instead of speaking, Steve leaned down to place a tender kiss on my lips. It was soft and fleeting, but I savored it. I savored it like a drop of water in the desert. "I just want to protect you, Kate."
As I gazed up into his warm eyes, I felt moisture welling up in my own. Oh, he's going to break my heart one day.
"Even from pigeons," he added playfully, pulling my head to his chest.
I laughed into his shirt, feeling a tear slip down my cheek. "Thank you, Steve." Snaking my arms around his waist, I let my eyes slip closed. "I feel blessed."
…
On the way to the airport, I warned Steve to make it a quick goodbye. "I'm the worst at goodbyes," I had told him. He reassured me that he would, and kept his promise with a brief hug at the curb. As soon as I got through security, I called Jess to pass the time. I told her about Steve's apartment, all the sightseeing, and even touched on the Natasha situation.
"Most importantly," Jess interrupted before long. "How was the sex?"
I glanced uneasily at the passengers seated next to me at my gate, mostly younger people with headphones on. I let out a flustered sigh. "Didn't have any," I stated. I pulled the phone away from my ear at the horrified noise that came through the other line.
"How is that even possible? You stayed over for—what—four nights?"
"Three," I corrected, clicking the call volume down. "And—well, he's just not a very sexual person." I felt eyes on me and I bit my lip.
"Listen, there's no such thing as a man with a low sex drive. He's getting sex from somewhere."
Beginning to feel defensive, I decided to nip the argument in the bud. "Let's talk about this later, okay? My flight is boarding soon."
"Of course," Jess said with a short pause. "You know I love you, right?"
I laughed, feeling the invisible tension vanish. "Love you too, girl."
While pulling some odds and ends out of my carry on, I realized I was out of chewing gum. I decided to navigate back to the convenience store I had passed to right this wrong. While the teller pulled my change out of the register, my eyes scanned the eye-level tabloids at the counter. Celebrity drama had never been interesting to me, but it did help me avoid awkward eye contact with store tellers. The headlines popped out in an annoying, bright yellow font with embarrassing pictures in the background. One in particular caught my attention:
"DOES THE CAPTAIN HAVE A NEW MRS. AMERICA?"
"Here's your change," the teller said, holding out my cash expectantly.
I dragged my eyes away from the magazine in a daze. "Could I also buy this?"
Regressing to my middle school days, I soon found myself in a stall in the women's bathroom. I stared at the magazine cover, pouring over every detail of the paparazzi photo in the background. Steve wore his ball cap, but his face was clearly recognizable without sunglasses or a mask. Ironically, he faced the camera for the picture, which was obviously taken from a great distance. He held the hand of a blonde woman that was walking beside him, facing away from the camera, and wearing a beige cardigan and tacky whitewashed jeans. That woman was me.
I reached for my phone with a shaky hand. The picture had been taken on my second day in D.C., when Steve and I had gone down to the National Mall to sightsee. Snapping a photo of the magazine, I sent it to Steve along with the text:
We have a problem…
Stuffing the tabloid into my backpack, I quickly returned to my gate to board my place just in time. After finding my seat, I pulled out my phone and found Steve's reply:
Omg
Hello to readers new and old! One silver lining about this whole coronavirus situation is that my work has been cut back, allowing my imagination to run wild once more. Thank you as always for your continued support. -Scarlet
