Steve Rogers opened his eyes lazily as the late morning light streamed across the large bed, draped in sheer white panels, where he was waking. At first aware only of the knowledge that he had nowhere to be and nothing to do, as the last cobwebs of sleep cleared from the corners of his mind, he recalled why that was the case, and smiled. A wedding gift from the rest of the team. Three days off the grid. The Avengers had gotten together and decided that, despite his opinions, they would be perfectly fine to handle whatever crises may come up for a few days, and that he should spend them with his bride. A trill of emotion welled up in his chest at the thought of Rachael, his bride, and now truly his wife. His hand reached across the bedsheets, towards the crumpled space where she had slept, next to him, entwined in his arms. The surface of the sheets were cool; she must have been up for a while. Deciding to find her quickly, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, and strode to the dresser, where he shrugged on a crisp pair of linen pants. He decided against getting dressed any further, his skin already starting to glow with the humid heat of a Wakandan day. He passed out of the bedroom doorway into the greatroom of the suite set aside for them by T'chala. Another wedding gift. The rooms were tastefully and comfortably appointed. There was clearly quite a bit of artistic taste and money put into the décor and furnishings, but it avoided the gaudy ostentation that some might expect from an African regime. No militaristic dictators, insecure in their power and their place in the world, the Wakandan royal family had nothing to prove by conspicuous spending, and a commitment to stewarding the government's resources well, despite their personal and country's affluence. Not finding Rachael to be present in his survey of the room, he strolled over to the dining table where he had noticed a basket displaying tropical fruit. He selected a red, soft-skinned fruit that he did not recognise and bit into it absently as he walked toward the open doors at the back of the room. They opened onto a private courtyard surrounded by tall cliff faces, bedecked by tropical vegetation. A natural-looking plunge pool filled the centre of the space, with a narrow waterfall cascading off the back wall, splashing off the rocks at the perimeter of the pool. It was there he found her.
She stood at the edge of the pool, water cascading down her body. He noted that she had not felt the need to dress this morning - cloistered as the were in their little suite - as she was enjoying the water fully nude. He took her in, a shining figure in the morning sun, glistening against the wet rock. She lifted and turned her arms, catching the spray of the water as it fell, dispelling the growing African heat. His eyes travelled the length of her body, lingering on the swell of her hips, the round curve of her buttocks, her twist of a waist, and rising to her smooth back, hoping for a glimpse of her naked breasts. He was familiar with the shape of them now, intimately acquainted in fact, but he still got a thrill every time he caught a flash of them. As he watched, Rachael turned in the fall, her face upturned to the water coming from above, her eyes closed. His vision filled with her. She ran her arms up the sides of her torso, raising them to her face, and smoothing her hair in the water flow. She gave a little toss of her head, to clear the last of the tangles, which set her breast shaking with the momentum. Steve felt a flush of heat run through his body, and his pants were abruptly too tight and coarse. Coming back to himself, he felt suddenly voyeuristic, watching her unawares, and yet could not draw his eyes away. He opened his mouth to call out to her and alert her to his presence, but before he could, she opened her eyes, meeting his gaze directly, and winked with a smirk. The little minx had been putting on a show for him! His morning greeting turned into a surprised "Oh" and she did a little wiggle, then folded at the waist and dove gracefully into the water below. Her head bobbed up, treading water as they both started laughing, a mix of amusement and elation.
"Come on in, the water's fine," she called out to him.
"There are lots of fine things this morning," he replied, as he hastily stripped off his trousers, and jumped in the pool with her.
The water was fresh, not chlorinated. There must be some natural spring supplying it, the continual flow of water keeping it cool, despite the sun. He took two masterful strokes and caught up his bride, lifting her slightly out of the water. She bent her head to meet his lips in a kiss, still giggling. Buoyed by the water, she felt light and insubstantial in his arms, like some ethereal water nymph set on seducing him.
"Good morning," he said as their lips parted, "I'm sorry I slept in on you."
"Well I should like to think that I tired you out, a little" was her reply.
"It takes a lot to tire me out, these days"
"I can see that," she purred, trailing her fingers along his biceps as his arms encircled her.
It had been years now since Dr Erskine's serum had stripped away the infirmities of his youth, but he still remembered, and did not take for granted the things his new-found physical power made so easy. He kicked out, leaning backward and drawing her close, onto his chest. He was acutely aware of skin against skin, and the fact that neither of them were wearing swim suits. But, the chill water served to cool his ardor somewhat, and playfulness won out over arousal. Rachael must have been of the same mind, because she shimmied off of his body, and dove down, turning in the water, and bobbing beside him. While his muscle mass, denser than water, made swimming an exercise in keeping his head above water (or holding his breath), her higher percentage bodyfat (nicely deposited in all his favourite places) made her swim manoeuvres appear effortless, merely guiding herself through the water, rather than fighting against it. She glided through the water, circling around him, as he tread water. Behind his back, he felt her wrap her arms around him, resting her chin on his right shoulder and nibbling lightly on his earlobe.
"You really do have a lot of power underneath your suit. The film footage just doesn't do it justice."
He flustered a bit at the praise of something that he felt was somewhat unearned, and yet at the same time, he wanted to show off: really show her what he could do.
"Do you want to see a bit of what we do in the field?" he asked.
She came around in front of him again, looking a little confused, but curious.
"It's just a basic lift. The water's a forgiving safety net, and I'll walk you through it."
As comprehension dawned, a sunny smile broke across her face, causing his stomach to do a little flip as it shone on him.
"Oh yes, I know exactly what you mean. I used to try these as a kid. What fun."
"You're not afraid of high dives, are you?"
"No, I've had decent swim training. And besides, I trust you," she responded while looking into his eyes.
He cupped his hands in front of himself, and directed her to put her weight onto it. As he drove her upward, he compensated slightly for her inexpert balance, still managing to launch her straight, seven feet into the air. Her landing was not quite as graceful as her earlier dive. He caught the glimpse of her surprised face right before she hit the water with a splash.
"You loon," she cried, "you should have warned me!" sweeping her arm to bring a second splash of water across his face.
"I did" he replied, somewhat defensively. But her laughter, and demands of "Again, again!" soothed his anxiety over the subject. They continued to horse around, trying various lifts and launches and gaining height and control. He was impressed at her determination to conquer a skill that was definitely outside of her field, and in which she had had little experience. She was no Avenger, but by the time she claimed fatigue and climbed out to warm up in the sun, she was clearing nearly the same heights Natasha could, and landing with a reasonable degree of grace and control.
He watched with pride as his little wife settled on the warm rock in the sun, then set himself to swimming laps across the length of the pool. He was not yet fatigued, and strengthening his swim stroke was absolutely part of his career. There would be time for more interesting physical exertions later.