This chapter completely ran away from me. I had PLOT to lay down. Distress to be had.

But no. My fingers decided otherwise.

So, please enjoy the (somewhat shorter) chapter of fluff filled reading

[WARNING: For those uncomfortable with mildly sexual scenes, skip the later half of this chapter]

Christmas was a somber affair, as Hermione was not allowed to leave Base. After the Hydra report of Johann's desire to capture her, Hermione was given a very strict no leave order from Colonel Phillips. She was confined to either her cabin, or the underground bunker that was known as her Office until further notice.

She was also assigned two guards in case of Hydra spies (or as the Colonel had warned her, if Hermione disobeyed his direct orders) that followed her throughout her days: Private First Class Joseph Cain from Nevada during the evenings, and Army Specialist Jack Fury from New York during the days. Both American men followed her routined days like a shadow, hands near to their weapons at all times. Neither spoke about anything close to personal information when Hermione prodded, and they didn't answer when she bounced ideas from her research off of them either. They made for poor conversationalists.

As time passed and her research continued, Steve was called away on dangerous missions that kept him gone to the unknown for weeks at a time. Hermione gave him a charmed compact a few days before he left, much like Harry and Sirius's two way mirror from her school time, but it was destroyed in a skirmish early on in the mission by a tesseract fueled gun. With no easy way to communicate to Steve outside of her confines, and condemned to a life away from sunshine and sanity for her safety , Hermione began to feel suffocated in the concrete remains of her life.

So Christmas passed with the quiet exchange of small gifts between Hermione and Howard as Peggy was shipped back to England for an MI6 update, and they raised glasses for the people that had been destroyed by the arrogance of an ideal, for Abraham and his forgotten family, and for themselves; to hope for a future that seemed murky in their blood drenched trenches and hospital tents.

New Years was spent decoding reports from Washington and working on her projects, and by the time Steve got back, they had not seen or heard from each other in weeks. He had left for the Hydra base the day before Christmas Eve, and he did not return until the 12th of the New Year.

While the mission had been completed and the factory destroyed, the information gathered had been unforgettable. Remains of human experimentation had been found in some of the laboratories, and Logan had passed on that it wasn't just men that had been left strapped to metal tables as the Hydra goons fled. And, even more worryingly, it hadn't just been adults either.

So when Steve returned, he was tired, bruised, frustrated, and disgusted. Not even Hermione could make the soldier unclench his fists the first night back. Bucky either. They carried a bitterness and anger in the set of their shoulders that she had never seen before. A dullness in their eyes whenever Hydra's name was said, and a rage at the loss of life from decoded telegraphs.

She had no idea how to fix it. She gave both men their space, unused to the anger in Steve's eyes, and unfamiliar with the knowledge on how she could help, but she felt that instead of closing the gap between her - lover, boyfriend, suitor - their distance only grew. Steve coming back to base and back home to her, only meant that the corpse of the man who used to be hers was lost somewhere in the dismantled metal fortresses of Hydra.

All the while, Hermione was beginning to understand that she was hitting a roadblock in her many levels of research for the tesseract. Some of the tests she needed for additional magical applications was impossible to do because technology and authors of information she needed had not been invented, or born yet. She was struggling to fully remember the scientific discoveries of her own past, while not wanting to 'invent' it for herself that would gain recognition after the War.

For Merline sake, the microwave hadn't even been invented yet.

J. Roy Blayney still hadn't concluded that fluoride reduces cavities in his initial studies, so fluoride based toothpaste hadn't been invented yet.

There were still only 82 out of the 118 elements currently discovered in Hermione's 1940's periodic table.

By the beginning of the New Year, Hermione was frustrated, impotent, angry, and discouraged.

January 15th 1944

Hermione dropped the stack of papers covered in Rune equations for basic spellcrafting down onto her office desk. She brought shaking hands into curled fists to the top of the wood, and breathed in deep, burying the urge to scream in frustration.

How long had she been at this? Hermione opened her eyes to the fluorescent lights in her office, and her stomach flipped over. When was the last time she'd eaten anything? Merlin, what time was it?

"Long night?" Steve's voice came from her office door.

Hermione hadn't heard it open. Her irritation swept away as she turned, and she found her soldier leaning against the doorway, the shadow of Private First Class Joseph Cain lingering outside. Stress melted from her shoulders, and a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "I didn't realize you'd be back from the Colonel's office so early."

Steve stepped in, and the door closed behind him. He walked over to her in a slow gait, enhanced eyes taking in every rumple in Hermione's sorry form. "Meeting's been over since nineteen hundred, Hermione. It's nearly midnight."

She dropped her gaze back to the desk. Shit. "Oh," she answered. "Is it?"

Steve's heat radiated from beside Hermione. He reached out and lifted the tip of her chin upwards, blue eyes meeting her brown. "I'm worried for ya, doll," he said softly, and chills raced up her back. "You're not sleepin', you're not eatin' ... Howard can barely get you out of the office most nights." His thumb traced the side of her jaw. "You look -" he trailed and furrowed his eyebrows.

Hermione's soft feelings flew out of her chest like she'd been blasted with a buckshot rifle, leaving pellets of bitterness and venom in its place.

Years worth of memories from a Hogwarts dormitory shared with caustic comments shoved forwards in her memory past her exhaustion. Bucktooth. Frizzy. Know-it-all. Steve, perfect looking Steve, was finally seeing what she was. A dishevelled mess , catastrophe of a woman, who, recently compared to anyone else in his life, wouldn't be looked at twice next to him.

She 'looked' like - like she hadn't slept in a week. Like she wasn't eating as much as she should. Like her beaten brain was expressing itself to the outside. Like she was dying from the inside out.

She 'looked' like - "What?" Hermione bit out, her teeth clenching. "I look like what, Steven?"

An expression crossed his face faster than Hermione could catch. Something more filled his eyes and he stepped closer, taking her face in between the expanse of his hands. "You don't look at me anymore, Hermione," he said, and swallowed.

Her anger froze.

Every interaction they'd had in past weeks had been around other people: while the Commandos were gearing up to go, while Hermione was in the middle of her projects, while the Colonel or Peggy presented mission intel. They hadn't been together, alone, since ... well, since the hospital visit in November, after Hermione had been in the tesseract energy explosion from Howards research office.

Conjoined with Hermione's decision to give him space after his return, she realized with a falling stomach, they hadn't properly seen each other in months. "I-" Hermione started, her anger leaving an ashamed aftertaste in her mouth.

Steve's thumbs brushed her cheek bones back towards her ears in soft caresses. "I know I haven't been to your Lab much," he interrupted. "- or was right in the mind after the last mission to be much more to you than a rock, but I still -" he stopped and swallowed again, and Hermione faintly wondered if he was going to say love. "I still - I miss you," he admitted.

Heat passed through Hermione like a fire. She felt like her chest would crack, and the weight of several months tumbled off her shoulders. "Steve, I'm -"

He shook his head. "And I'm sorry if I ever gave you the impression that I wasn't interested anymore, or too busy. Or like I was lookin for a way to break it to you - God knows that I haven't stuck around long enough to get in a good -"

"I know, Steve," Hermione said, stopping him. She held the wrists of his hands that held her face, keeping him close. "And I'm sorry I snapped at you," she answered. "I'm sorry I haven't been there for you as well, with the missions, with your new team, or with what you saw down up there with Hydra." She shook her head minutely in his hands as he stiffened. "I've just been so ... fixated on the tesseract, and Johann's plans, and trying to remember everything -" She lowered her eyes. "I just - at the end of the day, I want to save lives too."

He let out a rough laugh. "Doll," Steve breathed, and pulled her forwards. Hermione's cheek hit the broad stretch of his chest, and his arms folded around her, caccooning her close. "You don't have to apologize to me for that ," he said into her ear compassionately. "I know that feeling better than anybody. To try and help with all the chips stacked against you. I just - I don't want you to kill yourself over it either, as hypocritical as that sounds."

Relief swept over her, fierce and soothing, and Hermione tucked herself further into his warmth. Merlin, she'd been such an idiot. To even think that he out of everyone wouldn't understand, wouldn't recognize that fire - looking back, it was probably one of the stupidest things she'd ever assumed.

He paused. "Although, doll, you do look-"

Hermione froze.

Steve released an arm and tipped her chin back up to him. Worried, cornflower colored eyes filled her vision. "You look exhausted." His fingers brushed the heavy weights under her vision, and Hermione nearly cringed.

Peggy's lessons of what it meant to be a dignified working woman from years before, remaining unshakable and presentable even during the worst of times, ran through her head. Hermione knew she looked a mess, and if Peggy could see her now from London, she wouldn't have put it as nicely as Steve.

He held her tighter. "You know I'm not one to care about the material things," he said, and Hermione nodded. She did know. He'd lived off less than nothing before, and wealth didn't call to him like it did most powerful men."You've seen me when I was shorter than you and scrawny with bad eyesight. And, I've always thought you were one of the most handsome women I've ever seen." He paused again and reached behind her head. "I still do. Everyday." He fingered one of her escaping curls from her updo, and tucked it behind her ear softly.

Hermione blushed all the way down to her toes and released a breath. Her cheek came back to his chest, and he held her again. She circled his waist with her arms. "I've - I've really missed you too, Steve. I shouldn't have avoided you as I did. I am sorry."

One of his hands held the back of Hermione's head, down to her neck, and warmth filled her like a balloon. "We ought to get back into writing letters," he suggested quietly. "Even if we can't post 'em. We'll drop them off to each other every time we get back," he said. "How does that sound?"

She grinned into his shirt. It sounded wonderful. Romantic and - her forehead rubbed against the cotton of his shirt. "That sounds like a plan, Captain."

"Steve," he whispered back immediately. "When it's just you and me, Steve. Or Steven if you're mad, but-"

Hermione laughed, and exhaustion hit her like a steam train on her next exhale. "Alright, I'll remember that for next time. Although, I should probably retire for the night, Steve." She looked up at him. "And you should too. Who knows when you'll be called out again?"

He released her slowly, like he was reluctant to let her go.

Hermione held onto his hand, and his fingers engulfed hers. She loved the warmth of his skin, the feeling of home as he held her. She smiled. "Come back to my cabin with me?" she asked, and a blush instantly colored her cheeks as his eyebrows raised. "Not to - that, of course. But-" she breathed out. "Oh for Merlin's sake," she laughed. She was a fully grown witch. "I just meant - will you read to me again?"

Steve grinned and tucked his hands into his pockets. "Yeah?"

She blushed. "I liked it last time- when you read to me in the hospital," she answered. "It was very - nice."

Steve held back a laugh and tried to look serious. "Nice? "

Hermione tucked her chin down. "You could just say no!"

Steve's hands came to her sides, and the pads of fingers rested heavy on her hips. "No, doll," he chuckled, and the sound went straight through Hermione's core, "I wanna hear you say it, fully."

She looked back up at him, and rested her chin on his chest.

The fluorescents of her office shone through the neat lines of his hair and the slope of his face, shadowing his eyes. "What do you want from me?" he asked softly.

"Just you tonight," she answered, and felt the same heat rise up from earlier. "Your time, with me. Just me."

He nodded, and brushed a hand over the back of her falling curls. Shivers raced across her spine, and Steve leaned down to whisper at her, "I think I can do that."

It was Hermione's turn to grin. "Yes?" she asked, reaching to her toes.

He tipped his head and smiled. "Yeah."

Then he was pressing down, and Hermione closed her eyes. She needed this, the knowledge that he was there with her, wanting her as she was letting herself feel the same for him.

He pulled her against him, arms wrapped around her waist and clinging to the expanse of her back. He enveloped her in his heat, and his lips fell to hers. A short embrace of soft warmth, his breath fanning out over her skin, the want in his force drowning her, before he came forwards again.

He kissed her once, twice, three times, and Hermione pressed herself against him as he slid his hands down up her back and down her sides.

She responded by entwining her fingers in his hair as he grasped the back of her neck, and then she pulled the short strands down closer as he dug steel fingers through her loosening curls. She maneuvered his face as he kissed her again, to the side so she could breathe, and up so she could taste the roundness of his lips, the bite of his longing. She melted under the building fire of his insistent mouth and the heat of his hands over her clothes.

Steve pressed her ever closer, and their bodies lined up. Hermione could feel the press of his uniform buckle through her clothes, against her stomach like fire on bare skin, and she gasped. He kissed her harder, teeth nipping and wanting as he claimed her mouth, and Hermione let him lead, opening herself to him.

Soft permission turned into hot, open mouth, demands on either side; a need that craved to be filled.

She could taste the soap of his toothpaste, and the mint of his past chewing gum. She could smell the pommel of his hair gel, and the dusty gravel of gunpowder and dirt. She could faintly hear the inhale of Steve's breath with every kiss that he laid into her, and the fevered release as she met his fire with her own.

It was like every sensation was heightened. She had never known this sort of - heat, passion, want - with any other man before, and she wondered if it was because she had never known another man quite like Steve before. She knew who he was. He wasn't going to look away from her when she had driven herself to exhaustion like Ron had, or her later lovers. He was the kind of man that took hold of a situation he didn't know, and then learned it intimately to better the status of a circumstance. She found that - well, she was loving that about him.

Loved -

Her thoughts disappeared before she could articulate what was forming when Steve's breathy sigh turned into something deeper. A low moan that went straight to the heat in her panties, and the lust soaking her skin.

She wanted this, despite their time apart and her own insecurity. She missed him. His voice, his laughter, his side eyed sarcasm. Merlin above, she wanted him.

And Steve wasn't disappointing. His free hand dragged up her uniform like he'd had the same thought, rough fabric hitching upwards and causing a delicious friction under her chest and thighs.

Hermione released a hitched breath, suddenly only thinking of what his hands would feel like under her uniform. On her skin. Cupping her breast, or holding down her hips.

She released a whine, completely without thought, and Steve's hands clamped down at the roots of her hair. The velveteen slide of his tongue, and the shocked shudder of his responding breath mixed with her own.

"We have to -" Steve said, and kissed her again.

Hermione touched him, delicate hands brushing the sides of his taut stomach, and Steve broke their kiss. Hermione quivered in his arms, a 'no' forming on her kiss bitten lips.

He tipped his head back like he was gasping for air, eyes closed, with his hands still tangled in her strands. His chest expanded and retracted like he'd run a marathon, and she watched the column of his neck as he shuddered and swallowed.

Hermione followed his example, taking in a deep breath of air, and leaned away from his warmth.

Steve's hands remained firm on her waist, and he looked back down. The heat was still there. "I'm sorry," he started. "I didn't want-"

To fuck her in her office.

Because that was exactly where that was going, and Hermione nodded. "No, I - I'd prefer if we made it to an actual bed as well."

Steve blushed, and Hermione did too. Never mind that she definitely was not a virgin, and Steve - well that hadn't had this conversation yet. "Have you," Hermione started, and Steve stared at her lips. "Have you done this before?"

His eyes came back up, and he sighed lowley. "Yes," he answered, and Hermione wasn't sure if it was relief or disappointment that ran through her.

"When?"

"Right after I turned 18," he said, and licked his lips. "There was a dame - a woman, Bucky had set me up with for the night from the Lower East Side. About as tall as me, the bookish type, timid, and - quiet." He shook his head. "It wasn't ideal, and I didn't love her, but we both wanted somethin' that needed taking." He licked his lips again. "That okay?"

Hermione froze. "Course it is," she answered instantly. She looked down. "I'm not either, if we're going to talk about this," she admitted. "Mine was around the same time. With one of my best childhood friends."

Steve nodded, and his hands didn't leave her. "He take care of you?"

Hermione smiled. "He loved me, back then. Or with what he thought was love."

Steve smiled back. "It was Ron, wasn't it? Couldn't have been Harry because he loved - uh, Ginny- right?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I'm surprised you remembered. Ron and I were together for just over a year before we called it off." She shrugged. "Wanted different things in the end."

He pulled her closer, their bodies flush against each other once more. "I know I'm being real selfish when I say it, but I'm glad he let you go," he confessed softly.

Hermione huffed an easy laugh.

Steve shook his head and held her. "I wanted you since I first saw you at that baseball field - like an oil painting come to life with your jacket and your curls - and then I met you, and - it was so much better," he recalled. "You were fierce about what you wanted and what you stood for, completely different than any other girl I'd ever met. Generous, even to a little guy from the bad side of Brooklyn, and smart - so smart. You run rings around me every time you're talkin numbers, and it gets my head all twisted most times, but I love it," he said and smiled.

Hermione didn't dare even breathe.

"The way your eyes light up when you figure somethin out, or remember somethin. It's like I can physically see the change in your head when you put somethin together for the first time, and you just -" he shook his head and chuckled. "You light up the room, and people can't help but stare and fall for you just a little," he said. "Me included. Bucky. Pinky - more than half the Commandos," he laughed again. "You ought to hear what they tell me every time we leave."

Steve changed his voice a little higher to mimic his team and friends. "'Better not remind her how out of your league she is pal.'" he said, and Hermione stared. "'You don't come home, and I'll happily make her a Mrs.' 'How did she pick you outta all the crowd ?'" he shook his head.

Hermione was astonished. Surely, he didn't mean that- they didn't all say that. "And what would you say back?" she asked quietly.

The corner of his mouth lifted. "Just -" he shrugged. "Things and stuff," he licked his lips and laughed.

She laughed back, and tossed her head to the side. "Really, things and stuff?" she echoed.

Steve leaned down and kissed her lightly on the forehead, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Hermione would have melted to the floor right there if she wasn't biologically incapable of doing so with just his kiss.

His lips hovered over her forehead for a second longer, and the brush of his skin against hers sent a shiver down her spine. "I just said some words we're not ready for - not just yet."

Hermione tilted her head back. "We're not ready for - or I'm not?"

"A little of both I think," he answered softly back and smiled.

Hermione didn't know what that meant, or what to make of it. What she wasn't ready for? Between them? He'd been the one to stop them before clothes were left on the floor!

Steve stepped away and grasped her hand. "Come on, it's late enough outside only your bodyguard should see me walking you to your cabin."

Her earlier thoughts slipped away. "Will you still read to me?"

"From 'The Wonderful Wizard of Oz', like last time?"

"But without me unconscious."

He grinned. "Isn't the point of me reading supposed to put you to sleep?"

Hermione paused. "Well yes, but that's completely different."

Steve's laugh echoed down the nearly empty hallway as he walked her back.

Trivia: Fluoride HAD been added to toothpastes by the 1940s, they actually were first added in the 1890s, but they did not become ADA approved until 1960 after several years worth of clinical tests. (Also, I thought Hermione would DEF know this kind of information as her parents were dentists, and she's a little bit of a know it all.)

Thanks for reading!

~Missmusicluver