Rain always made Steve think of her. Rain was cleansing and pure. It soothed him. As a scrawny, sickly kid in Brooklyn, he'd lie in bed and listen to the rain. He always wanted to walk in the rain, simply because he couldn't. His health problems wouldn't allow it. Five minutes in the rain could kill him.
Five minutes with her was the same. She set his insides on fire. All because she was so pure.
Women were one of two ways around Steve. They ignored him when he was younger. They threw themselves at him, or fawned all over him now that he was famous, and deemed sexy and desirable.
Not her. When he saw her in Stark Tower, walking through the lobby, her smile said "hello" instead of "I want to take your clothes off." He glanced back at her as they passed each other, and expected to see her check him out. She didn't.
For the next week, Steve sat in the lobby until he saw her again. She came in carrying two trays of coffee cups and a file folder under her arm that looked ready to drop at any moment. He rushed over to her.
"Can I help?"
She smiled brightly at him. "Yes, thank you. I would appreciate that."
He took the trays of coffee and she grabbed the file to hold it in her hands against her chest.
"I've been carrying coffee every morning for two years, and no one has ever stopped to help."
"That's awful. You've been here two years?"
She nodded.
"I don't remember seeing you before."
"No, I don't guess you'd remember someone as insignificant as me."
"No, that's not what I meant."
"Oh, I know. But I saw you last week. Maybe for the first time."
"I remember that. I remember you smiled at me. I meant I don't remember seeing you before then."
That conversation began what Bucky called "the most sexual-tension-filled relationship I've ever seen."
Steve wanted her. Oh, God, how he wanted her. But he'd never been with a woman that way. Close, once or twice, but he always stopped it. It never felt right, and the women never stayed after that. She was so different. She was pure. She was waiting for the right man, and Steve prayed it was him.
He could swear she wanted him, too. Natasha said it was obvious, and Steve should just make a move, but every time he looked at her, he chickened out. It felt wrong. Too soon. Was it just his old-fashioned sensibilities? Or was it her?
Their first date was dinner and a walk through the park. He kept his hands to himself, except to guide her around a large section of uneven sidewalk, but she took his arm after that. So innocent.
The sky seemed to just open up that night. The rain came from nowhere, and Steve tried to cover her, but she pressed her hands against his chest.
"I love the rain," she said. "I used to play in it when I was a kid."
Steve's heart clenched. And they walked in the rain. Strolling and talking as if they weren't getting soaked to the bone, until they reached her apartment building.
"Can I see you again?" he asked.
She smiled so bright it might as well have been daytime.
"I'd love that."
It was three months before Steve worked up the nerve to kiss her. He really didn't want to mess this up, and she was so not like the other women.
But they sat on the sofa in her apartment one night, and talked for hours. Their hands were locked together, fingers laced, resting in Steve's lap as she leaned into him. Her closeness was overpowering, and he couldn't stop the thoughts of kissing her from taking over his brain.
So, he leaned in, slowly, and waited for her to make eye contact before he pressed his lips to hers. She sighed so softly he barely heard it before she kissed him back. He pulled his hands from hers to cup her face and caress her neck. He slanted his mouth over hers and leaned her into the back of the sofa before she pressed a hand to his chest and turned her head.
"Steve…. Wait."
He stopped, but kept his forehead pressed to hers.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"Don't be. I've been wanting you to kiss me."
"Yeah?" He smiled at her, and brushed a thumb over her cheek.
"Yeah. But I think we need to talk before this moves forward any more."
Steve sat back.
"I'm…" she hesitated. "I've never… been with a man."
Steve slowly smiled. "Me either."
Her eyes shot up to his, and he mentally slapped himself in the head.
"No, I mean…. well, yes, I've never been with a man, but what I meant was… I've never been with a woman."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Well, that's the first thing."
"What's the next thing?"
She took a deep breath. "As much as I like you, Steve… and I do, a lot… I'm not looking to rush into a sexual relationship."
"Neither am I."
"I need to be sure."
He tucked her hair behind her ear. "I understand."
"Do you?"
He pressed a soft, quick kiss to her lips. "I do."
"A lot of guys don't."
"A lot of women don't."
She smiled. "You're really a virgin?"
"I am."
"I didn't think it was possible for you to become more attractive to me, but you just did."
Steve closed his eyes and shook his head. "You're so different."
"So are you." She brushed her thumb over his jaw. "Kiss me?"
That went on for four months. Touching, kissing, and talking, and generally driving everyone around them to insanity because they were "sickening" according to Tony.
"Just do it already. It's obvious you both want to. Then maybe we won't have to watch you act like a couple of horny teenagers."
But Steve wasn't concerned. He loved the anticipation that waiting added to their time together. He loved kissing her, knowing he didn't have to worry about how far he could go. He already knew. There was a line, and he wouldn't cross it. Not without doing it properly.
So, he watched the weather, and planned a picnic date on a cloudy Saturday. They'd just finished eating when the rain began, and they lay on the blanket and kissed. Steve knew the time was right. He pulled her to sit up, then reached into his pocket. He opened a small box and her eyes widened.
Steve brushed the wet hair from her forehead and pressed his against it.
"Marry me?"
She grabbed his face and kissed him. She broke away long enough to mumble a "yes" and then dove back to his lips.
Tony gave them the wedding of their dreams as his gift, and her dress was the most virgin white Steve had ever seen. But he knew that dress wasn't half as pure as the woman wearing it. Not until later that night, when it lay over the chair of their motel room, long forgotten as Steve lay with his bride in arms, snuggled into his side, her head on his chest, as the rain pattered against the window, lulling him to sleep.