The third and fourth days are as full as the first, and pass just as quickly. Then, early in the morning of the fifth day since Steve and I had gotten together, his health started to decline again. In a way it was a relief. We'd be able to solve the problem more definitively if there was a detectable pattern. But my heart still went out to him, as I watched his renal function decline, his heart start to struggle to keep rhythm, and his breathing labour. I wanted to go to him right away, to make things better, and soothe his body with my touch. But he insisted on waiting it out until the radiation returned, to get a better timeline on how long he could go before he became a danger to others. His doctors agreed, as long as his condition didn't decline too far. But the very minute that the radiation display detected the telltale glow, emanating from a point in his heart, they whisked out of the room, and ushered me in.

I entered into his room again, for the first time since I had left him slumbering, my heart hammering in my chest. I'm so keyed up with nerves and excitement. The last time we had been in each other's presence, I had been buoyed by the certainty of my decision and the confidence that came from knowing what needed to be done.

This time was different. There was no urgency to get physical right away, although we both understood where this was heading. But more than that, I realised to myself, I wanted to win him over. I wanted him to love me. I had said I would be there as long as he needed me, but it was more than that now. I never wanted to let him go. With the stakes higher, so was my anxiety about how to start.

That eased somewhat when I walked into the room. Steve had been reclining on the sofa, resting a moment, his eyes closed with a tense expression on his face. But, when he heard me step in, his face cleared, and he turned a sunny smile in my direction.

"Rachael, come sit with me."

He squeezed over to make room for me, and I slid onto the sofa, resting my back against the side arm so I could more fully face him.

It was strange, in some ways it felt like I was meeting him for the first time, and yet we had just been talking half an hour ago. I wanted to start on familiar ground, so I asked him tell me more of the story of the time Clint had convinced Vision that he needed to grow hair.

It occurred to me that while we had been chatting before, separated by the glass window, I had longed to reach out to him, but now I could. In fact, I should. It would help him recover.

I reached out and trailed my fingers up the back of his neck, idly caressing the short hairs at his nape. It was a bit of an awkward distance to reach. In response, Steve scrunched closer to me, drawing up my legs from the sofa to make room, and placing them across his lap.

I sighed contentedly. "There, that's better.
"Tell me about your childhood."

He started to share a bit about what it was like growing up, poor and invalid, in Brooklyn. I wanted to hear more about what life was like in the 30's, but that could wait for another time. Right now it was Steve himself I was interested in.

He talked about Bucky, sharing a few hilarious anecdotes about them pal-ing around New York before the war, and about how he stuck by him when his mother died, and things got really hard.

"Even when I had nothing, I always had Bucky. I couldn't bear it when I thought he had died during the war. He was the first person I had lost while in command, and it hit me very hard." His voice dropped low, "He was the last family I had left and he was gone.
"But then the Winter Soldier showed up, and I had him back. For a little bit at least. He's in Wakanda now, back in cryofreeze, waiting to figure out what Hydra did to his head. Waiting for it to be safe."

"They're good people, the Wakandans. I'm sure they're taking good care of him."

"Do you know them?"

"I've got several Wakandan friends. We met doing relief work in central Africa, and I ended up doing some of my training in Wakanda."

His eyes tightened at this statement. "The relief workers who died in Laos, did you know any of them?"

"Not personally, no. But I'd worked with that relief agency before."

"I'm sorry."

I could see that he carried a lot of personal guilt about the event. My heart went out to him. "When you do that kind of work in Africa, you accept a certain degree of personal risk. The people who need the most help are where there's political instability, or epidemics, or natural disasters. You maybe wouldn't expect to find it in Laos, but the world's not a safe place."

"How long were you there?" he asked.

"Oh, I lived there for several years. Some of it was relief efforts, but some of it was just my own work. The Wakandan approach to science is ingenious in many ways. I learned a lot there.
"But, even though I had lived in Africa for a bit as a child, and in many ways it felt like home, it was tough living as an ex-pat. Culture shock is a definite thing. I had so much fun learning the different ways that people do things, but sometimes you just get tired of every little thing being an extra level of effort. Things like renting a car or opening a bank account are relentlessly an exercise in picking up social cues, and trying to figure out what you should have looked up ahead of time."

"Oh man, can I ever relate. And the pop culture references. I never realised how common they were until half of them went over my head."

I laughed. "Yeah, you get tired of asking to be let in on them. I eventually just became the queen of smile and nod."

While we talked, Steve had been idly caressing my legs as they were slung across his lap, stroking his palm up the length of my leg, then trailing the backs of his fingers down to start again. As we talked, he had been getting more and more adventurous, slipping his fingers up under the hem of my skirt for a while, then pushing it up, sliding his palm up along my inner thigh. What started out as comforting reassurance was quickly becoming a distraction, although definitely a welcome one.

I trailed off mid-sentence, having forgotten what I was saying. I was only aware of Steve, head drawn close to mine, both of us breathing heavily, his eyes fixated on my lips. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to kiss him. Our kiss was slow and tender and it felt like the universe was spinning around us.

I had been aching for him. While we had been getting to know each other, separated by glass, I had just wanted his arms around me again. But, now that his hands were caressing my skin, my body remembered his touch, and responded avidly.

I reach for his hand, grasping it in mine. "Wait," I say "We're wearing way too many clothes for this."

There's so much fire in the smouldering look he gave me in response, you'd think I would melt. Maybe I do.

I swung my legs around to the floor, and stood before him. I started unbuttoning my blouse, which instantly riveted his attention to the soft cleavage I was slowly revealing. I got to the last button, and shrugged off my blouse. Steve swallowed hard, hands flexing as he watched.

"Do you want to help me with this?" I asked, quirking a finger under my bra strap, pulling it away from my body.

Steve reached forward, trailing his fingertips lightly up the sides of my ribs then wrapping his hands around my ribcage, almost encircling me. He drew closer as his hands moved behind me, fingers trembling slightly as he reached for the clasp of my bra. He unlatched it, and I let it fall from my body.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed.

I stepped forward into the circle of his legs, and grasped at his shirt, pulling upward. He lifted his arms, and it slid off mussing his hair as it went. I absently smoothed it down for him, as I ran my eyes along his naked torso, then glided my hands over the tops of his shoulders, admiring the sharp definition of each of the muscles there, and revelling in the feel of his skin beneath my fingertips.

I stepped back and, unfastening the clasp on my skirt, let it drop to the floor.

"Take your pants off." My voice broke a little on the final word.

He did so. Looking up at me, he wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my belly, and breathing in the scent of my skin.

I crooked a finger under his chin, drawing his mouth towards mine as he rose to his feet. His kiss engulfed me and I realised just how tall he was, as he bent his neck down to meet my face, wrapping his arms around me and drawing me upward. I broke our kiss, and reaching for his hand, led him to the bed.

We had our moment, and it was as perfect as the first time had been. I knew people were waiting for him, so I started to roll away from him, to let him go, but he just clutched me tighter.

"Stay with me" he said, holding me close.

"I thought you had to get moving, now that we've... sorted out your problem."

"I do, but I'm not ready yet."

That was fine with me. I relaxed into post-coital bliss. After what we'd just done, I was completely spent. I revelled in how close I felt to Steve in that moment, arms and legs entwined. I didn't want to move, ever. It was too early in the day to fall asleep, but my mind drifted into nothingness, and I just floated for a while in his arms.

I lost track of time, but after what felt like both too soon, and an eternity, Steve let out a long sigh and slowly pulled away. I watched lazily as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Reaching his arms up, he stretched out his back and shoulders; I could see his muscles flexing under his skin. He got up and I heard him walk to the washroom and start the water for a shower. He finished quickly and re-entered the bedroom to start dressing. All his tactical gear would be in the Avengers ready-room, but someone had brought up his underlayer and he slipped on a technical-looking tight blue shirt and navy cargo pants. He looked to me on the bed, and seemed somewhat surprised to see me watching him with half lidded eyes, rather than dozing.

"I'll be back in a few days" he told me, before pausing, then striding back to the bed, bending over me, and planting a soft, light kiss on my lips.

"Bye" I whispered huskily, not sure what else to say in the moment.

And then he was gone.