Sometime during the night, they'd moved from the sitting room floor to Diana's bed. Now, with morning light sneaking around the drapes, Steve cradled her against his chest.
Steve thought he should feel ashamed of what he'd done - what they'd done. Diana wasn't a girl like the ones Bucky had always charmed into his bed, eager for a good time and not much more.
No, Diana was a woman who wanted - no, demanded - more of the people around her. She made him want to be a better man than he was, and a better man would've waited a while longer for the intimacy they'd shared.
"You're thinking so hard I can feel it," Diana murmured.
"Sorry." Steve squeezed her closer for a moment. "Just thinking that this happened a bit fast."
"We've known each other for years - two, if you insist on not counting the seventy you were sleeping. How is that fast?"
"When you put it like that, I guess it's not," Steve admitted. "I just - I want to be a man you respect."
Diana propped herself on one arm - presumably so that she could glare at him properly, if her expression were anything to judge by. "Why would you think you're not?"
"My own insecurity." Then Steve frowned as he realized what he'd said. "Where's your lasso?"
Diana laughed. "Not here - I don't think either of us are interested in those kinds of games."
That surprised an answering laugh from him even as he blushed. "No - never. Truth or Dare, maybe, but not - no." He blew out a breath. "So I'm being too honest on my own. That's even more embarrassing."
Diana settled back against him. "I think that's good - that you want to be honest with me."
"Always." Steve paused. "You're sure your lasso isn't here?"
"It's in my suitcase with my armor. I promise."
"So packing light really is your superpower," Steve mused. "A formal dress, your armor, and casual clothes all in one suitcase."
"I left my sword and shield at home, otherwise I would've needed two."
Steve laughed. "It's good to know you're not perfect."
"You've known that for decades, Steve. Don't pretend otherwise now." But she was laughing as she said it, and Steve bent to kiss her, grateful that he was allowed such a simple indulgence.
The kiss turned into more, and it was far later than Steve would willingly admit to when they finally left the bed for their separate showers.
When Steve returned to the sitting room, he was only slightly surprised to find that Diana wasn't there already. During the war, she'd been as efficient with her personal hygiene as any soldier she fought beside, and he couldn't believe she'd changed that much over the intervening decades.
He figured she wouldn't be long, so he crossed to the minibar and started a pot of coffee for them.
The coffee hadn't finished brewing before Diana joined him, her still-damp hair piled on her head in a style similar to ones he'd seen on ancient Greek vases during his few trips to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
He offered her a cup of coffee and a kiss and shoved down the sappy feeling of domestic satisfaction that swelled his chest. They weren't there, not yet, but Steve felt confident they would be, and likely sooner than he expected.
She settled at the table with him. "Surely this isn't all we're having for breakfast?"
"Of course not," Steve said. "But I thought -"
The buzzing of both of their StarkPhones interrupted him. If it had only been his phone, he probably would have ignored it to continue their conversation. Both, though, probably meant something serious, so with a resigned sigh, Steve reached for his.
Diana glanced at her own phone. "It's Victor," she murmured. "And Tony Stark."
"Both at once?" That couldn't be good.
"Answer yours," Diana said. "Put it on speaker."
Steve did so, and both Tony's and Victor Stone's faces filled the screen.
"Steve." Tony's use of his first name as much as both men's sober expressions told Steve something was wrong. "Can you talk freely?"
"I'm with Diana," Steve answered. "And you were calling her, too, so yes."
Surprisingly, Tony made no other comment. "A joint task force of Homeland Security, FBI, and various National Guard units moved against Hydra-in-S.H.I.E.L.D. this morning. It was a coordinated effort, but either the plan leaked, or Hydra had backup plans galore."
Steve glanced at Diana, whose frown surely matched his own. "What do you mean?"
"A small group - the estimate is a hundred, maybe a little more - escaped capture." Tony looked as angry as Steve felt.
"Any idea where they're headed?" Steve asked. While he'd been excluded from the stealthy assault on Hydra-in-S.H.I.E.L.D., rightly, this was an enemy, an action, he could help fight on its own turf.
"Yes," Victor Stone answered, his tone grim. "An island in the Atlantic. They refer to it as Insel der Frauen."
The Island of Women. Steve got it immediately, even before Diana's indrawn breath. They meant her home. Themyscira.
"That means something to you both," Tony said, and damn the man's perceptiveness.
"It does," Diana said shortly. "Thank you."
It was a dismissal, and Steve knew it. He ended the call, cutting off Tony's protest in mid-word. Almost immediately, their phones vibrated again.
"How do you want to handle this?" Steve asked. It was Diana's home, after all, and therefore her call.
"How big a threat do you believe they are?" Diana countered.
Possibilities swirled through Steve's mind, finally coalescing into one horrible thought. "A hundred men, maybe more, with the most advanced weapons available. If I were them and I knew about Themyscira, I'd think it was the perfect place to use as a base to regroup and rebuild."
Diana's lips thinned as what he hadn't said - about just how they'd regroup and rebuild - sank in. "I'm sorry to cut this short, but I have to warn my sisters. I have to return to Themyscira."
Steve felt his brows drawing together. "I thought you couldn't go back?"
"I have to try," she said. "Against any normal enemy, I wouldn't worry as much, but with advanced weapons, my sisters - my mother - might not survive. Even if they do, what awaits them -" Diana shook her head. "I have to try."
"Then I'll go with you," Steve said, and tried to lighten her mood, however slightly. "Just like old times."
"I can't ask you to -"
"I'm offering," Steve declared. "Just like you offered in 1943."
Their phones vibrated again.
"Seems like they're offering, too," he said.
Her expression was a study in conflicting emotions that Steve would never be able to capture on paper, no matter how hard he tried.
Some subtle shift in those emotions led him to answer the phone. When he did, only Tony's face was on the screen.
"Don't hang up on me when I'm trying to help," Tony said. "I'm offering a quinjet to get you there. Nothing's faster than that."
"I - thank you," Diana said softly.
"And," Tony continued almost as if he hadn't heard her, "since it's a squad of Hydra troops - most of them special forces types - with advanced weapons - I'm offering Iron Man's services to help defend your home."
It was only Steve's serum-enhanced senses that allowed him to see that Diana relaxed minutely at the offer. While she - and he, for that matter - were more than a match for any squad, even a legion, of ordinary soldiers, several dozen elite Hydra troops with advanced weapons were another level of combat entirely, and Iron Man's assistance could make the difference between victory and defeat.
"Very well," Diana said finally.
"Where are you?" Tony asked. "I'll be there ASAP."
"The Warwick Hotel," Steve answered. "We'll be on the roof in five. And - Tony? Bring my suit."