AN: Sorry I'm a bit late, life is crazy. Here's another chapter, some angst, some fluff, a bit of Charlotte's mysterious past. Steve's a bit cheeky this chapter, but the Steve in my head has a excellent sense of humor :) Read and Review please!

Disclaimer: I own very little in my life but the characters in my head :)

I came home Monday night more exhausted than usual, my feelings for Steve weighing on me so heavily I was surprised I wasn't hunched over. I had sulked around the store all day, in enough of a mood that not even Stella wanted to try and pull me out of it.

Steve's face kept playing over and over in my mind, taking up my vision whenever I closed my eyes. He had looked so completely devastated, so hurt by me running off like that. I climbed the stairs wearily, turning the corner to see a box sitting on my doorstep. I walked over and picked it up, going through the process of unlocking my door absentmindedly as I wondered what it could be. It was unmarked, long and rectangular, navy blue with silver ribbon. Finally unlocking the door and stepping inside, I shed my coat, greeting Penelope with a head rub and sat on the couch, peeling off the ribbon and opening the box to be confronted with two large sunflowers tied together with a blue ribbon. A note was tucked between the blooms, the same stationary from the Tower that I remembered from the week before. The note read,

Charlotte,

Don't worry. I can wait.

Steve

I set the box down and groaned, flopping myself backwards on the couch.

"Goddamnit Blue Eyes!" I exclaimed to no one in particular. He knew. The son of a bitch knew and could tell that my feelings had changed. He knew and now he was just playing with me. Frankly, it was a move I wasn't expecting from such a Boy Scout. The badass within me nodded approvingly at the move and I sat up, looking again at the happy blooms, both of them huge and beautiful. I ran a finger over the velvety petals and shook my head. That brat, I thought without heat. I couldn't help but chuckle slightly though. It was a bold move, and a ballsy one. I had to admit, I admired it. It was obvious from this little gift that Steve was not only sure of his feelings, but of mine as well.

I thought back to this morning and the look on his face when I left. Obviously he had found his confidence again, but I had to wonder if this was just a show of bravado. He had looked so genuinely hurt when those elevator doors had closed.

Ugh, I hated myself. Why did I run? Why didn't I just let him say what was so clearly in his heart and in mine? Was I that afraid of genuine emotions? I played back Steph's advice from last week, the words echoing in my head.

"But don't let your fear of actual human connection get to you okay?"

I sat up and leaned my elbows on my knees, trying to find some kind of clarity in all of this mess. Steve was going to tell me that he loved me this morning, I was sure of it. Thinking back on the night before, I was surprised he didn't say it then. The way we made love last night, the look in his eyes this morning, all of it screamed love, screamed passion and longing and affection. It mirrored every other experience I had ever had indirectly with love; the way Tim and Steph looked at each other, Jane and Thor, Tony and Pepper whenever Tony wasn't being a royal pain in the ass. I searched back in my memory to come up with more of my own eye witness accounts of real life love but was met with the familiar white noise and headache I got whenever I tried to delve too deep into my past. I stood up, shaking that train of thought from my mind.

Steve was going to tell me that he loved me this morning and my first instinct was to get the hell out of dodge. A handsome, sweet, funny, loyal, wonderful man wanted to tell me he loved me and my first inclination was to run out. What the hell was wrong with me?

That was the problem: I knew, Steph knew, but no one else knew how completely fucked up I was, and I wasn't about to tell Steve anything. Mostly because I couldn't remember it all. A missing childhood, teenage years on the streets or in foster homes, and freaky genius girl antics up until two years ago when I finally decided to be done with school. Steve could have no idea how truly messed up I was, and I would do anything in my power to make sure he never found out.

Even without all of that, even without my fucked up past, how in hell could someone like Steve be honestly in love with someone like me. I was nothing special, nothing spectacular like him. I'd seen him surrounded by fans, been to the freaking Smithsonian exhibit for fuck's sake! Beyond that, I knew what kind of a man he was. Behind the shield, behind all that propaganda bullshit, Steve was a genuinely good person. Sweet, caring, loyal, unbelievably sexy and with an unshakable core of morality that only further attracted me to him. I had known him for literally a week, but he was already the best man I'd ever known. There was no way I came even close to deserving him. I flopped back on the couch, laying an arm over my eyes overdramatically.

We had known each other for a week. Literally, I reflected, looking at the clock hanging on the wall idly. If anything he might be infatuated. But infatuations passed, and I for one wasn't about to get pulled into all of this just to be tossed aside for something newer and better, though as I had the thought, the idea of Steve just tossing anyone aside sounded so completely insane I couldn't help by chuckle sardonically. No, he would gently place me to the side in that earnest, sweet way of his and forget me forever. There was no way in hell I was going to let myself get too involved with all of this. No way I was going to tell him what he wanted to hear only to have him break my heart. I had survived this long without a broken heart and I sure as hell wasn't going to let some sneaky super soldier come in and break it for me. I stood, squaring my shoulders and headed into the bedroom.

Some time and space was exactly what the doctor ordered. Time to let both of us cool down, hopefully get me to a place where being in the same room with him didn't fluster me completely, and he wouldn't make those sweet doe eyes at me. I'd see him Wednesday after dress shopping. My stomach tied itself in quick knots at the thought of going out with all of those women, but I pushed the anxiety down, determined to stay strong. I closed the doors to my bedroom behind me. Time and space. Three days, and we'd see where we both stood.

The next day, I went to work, actively trying to be less hostile than I had been the day before. Halfway through the morning however, Stella pulled me aside at the counter.

"Honey, I don't know what bug crawled up your butt this weekend," she said gently, "but you might want to watch your expression. You've got that thing going on that I thought we fixed. Remember?" I blushed all the way to my hairline and my hand flew up to my face.

"Resting bitch face," I muttered, "I'm sorry Stella, I didn't realize." She patted my shoulder softly.

"I know dear, that's alright. Why don't you go in the back and do some work in the stockroom for a little while? Give you some time with your thoughts and you won't scare off any more customers," she suggested with a smile. I chuckled humorlessly and went to the storeroom where I stayed for the rest of the day, restocking shelves and taking inventory to keep myself busy.

That evening I walked wearily home again, only to find yet another navy box in front of my door, this one slightly smaller.

"Son of a-" I muttered, picking up the box and going through the process to unlock my door. Finally inside I untied the ribbon where I stood, disentangling the note from on top of the box. I opened it up to find Steve's neat and perfect cursive yet again.

Charlotte,

I know how much you like big knives, so I thought you might want one of your own.

Please don't cut off your finger with it.

Steve

I made a face at the warning at the end of the card, imagining Steve's smug expression as he wrote it. I opened the box, revealing the same beautiful chef's knife he had in his own apartment. Stainless steel, deadly sharp, and perfectly weighted; the cook in me sighed happily. I ran my fingers over its sheath and handle, admiring how perfect it was before snapping back to myself.

"You sneaky bastard," I muttered. He was slowly and relentlessly trying to butter me up, and I hated how much it was working.

Wednesday morning I went into work like usual, helping Stella open up the store for 10:30. I had done my hair in two french braids, falling on either side of my head. On the right one a red carnation weaved through the braid, its happy crimson bloom looking out at the cloudy December morning cheerfully. Stella came over after we'd opened, touching it briefly.

"Pretty," she murmured, " A gift from your boy?"

"Thanks, and yes, from last week. He brought me flowers for our first date and they're starting to die. I couldn't just let this one go to waste," I replied, trying to convince both myself and Stella that this was the only reason I'd put the bloom in my hair, not because I missed Steve or would be seeing him tonight. From Stella's expression, I had completely failed to convince either of us.

"Having some problems with Steve? Is that why you've been stomping around here like you dropped your ice cream cone?" she asked, as always, completely spot on. I sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, I guess. I think he has more intense feelings for me than I do for him, or maybe the same, or maybe I'm the one with stronger feelings," I struggled through the words, finally giving up. "I don't know honestly. Its been a very strange two weeks," I finished. Stella nodded sagely, and for once I found myself looking forward to whatever snippet of well meaning and probably completely inappropriate advice she was about to give me.

"Well dear. You're a smart gal. I'm sure you'll figure it out," she said, walking away and leaving me standing there, shocked.

At 4:00 I swung out the door, just starting to let myself get excited about shopping. As I walked down the street and into my apartment I began realizing that I actually was pretty pumped for a night out. Everyone I'd met on Sunday had been nothing but nice, and I looked forward to hanging out with Jane and Darcy again at least, and was hoping that Pepper wouldn't be able to use her charm to rope me into any more work in the lab. I climbed the stairs to my apartment, turning the corner to find yet another gift in front of my door.

"If this is going to be some 12 days of Christmas bullshit Blue Eyes, boy do you have another thing coming," I muttered, grabbing the large flat box and stepping inside, placing it on the couch and decidedly ignoring it until after I got ready. I changed, updated my makeup and took the now wilted bloom out of my hair, placing it on my bedside table and undoing my braids, satisfied with the curly, full mane of hair they had given me. I walked out into the living room and picked up the box gingerly, unwrapping the ribbon and opening the box.

Inside was a huge record, no labeling, no cover. My brows knit tight together as I wondered what it could be. I walked over to my record player, registering that Steve must've noticed it here last weekend and knew that I would be able to play it. I set the record to play and the soft, crackly first notes of White Christmas floated out. I sighed heavily and sank onto the couch bonelessly, Bing Crosby's velvet voice washing over me and making my eyes well up briefly. Closing my eyes and moving with the music I shook my head and laughed humorlessly.

He was getting way too good at this.

AN: So there we are! I know you guys have been waiting patiently for Charlotte to say the L word, but we'll just have to wait a little while longer. Why? Because I'm evil that's why ;)