Peggy stays in her room, warring with herself and trying to decide how to approach the change in the house.
She hears Steven pass her room and pauses, but he doesn't stop and she wonders what he's thinking.
—
She exits her room the next morning, early enough that Lorraine hasn't come to her room yet. A white envelope set against her door frame catches her eyes and she stoops over to pick it up off the floor.
Margaret
It reads on the outside. She hesitantly opens the seal and pulls out the small parchment.
Margaret,
I've gone to the Starks for a quick visit. But since I hadn't seen you since my ordeal, I wanted to make sure you knew I wasn't ungrateful. This note is just to say thank you for all that you and Ms. Davies did for me. I truly apologize for the inconvenience.
Thank you,
Steve
She looks at the neat handwriting and sighs.
—-
Even though it's cold, Steve has forgone the carriage and chosen a horse instead. Saddling it under Mr. Coulson's direction.
"Are you sure you should be riding, sir?" The man asks, clear concern across his face.
"Yes," Steve says, his breath making a puff in the crisp cold air, "I'm fine now, and I don't want to take you away from the house in case the ladies need something."
Mr. Coulson purses his lips but says nothing.
Steve swings his leg over the leather saddle and nods, "I'll be back soon." He promises, taking off at a steady trot.
—
The Stark's mansion comes into view within the hour. He rides closer and tries not to gape at the huge house. No matter how many times he's seen it, he still can't get over the vastness in scale. He rides to the stable where their stable hand, a burly but kind man named Hogan takes his horse. He walks to the door and knocks.
The Stark's butler, a kind man originally for Eporue, Jarvis, opens the door and greets Steve warmly.
"Mr. Rogers! A pleasure to see you, how are you?"
"I'm doing well, Mr. Jarvis, how are you?"
"Oh, splendid, splendid. Are you here for Mr. Stark?"
"Yes," Steve answers feeling nervous, "is he here?"
"Of course, he's in his morning study. I'll lead you there."
Footfalls on soft rugs are all he hears for few minutes as they wind their way through large grand arching hallways and past massive family portraits and maps and paintings. Eventually Jarvis stops before a beautifully carved wooden door and knocks.
"Yes?"
"Sir, Mr. Rogers is here to see you."
"Steve! Send him in!" Jarvis smiles and turns the giant brass door handle, opening the room.
Steve halts at the huge study, square in shape but three stories tall, bookshelves and nooks filled with all sorts of curious objects, line all four walls. A rolling ladder positioned on each wall and on each floor drew Steve's eyes as he briefly imagined climbing each one, exploring all the wonderful books the shelves must hold.
"Welcome!" Howard calls, "to my inner sanctum. How are you, Steve?"
"Um.." Steve hesitates, unsure how to begin now that he's here.
Howard immediately frowns, "What is it?"
"Last night I…" he swallows thickly and lifts his hand, the one he'd burnt badly last night, but now looks smooth and unblemished. "I had a fever last night, passed out… And Margaret and her ladies maid helped cool me down, but…" he bites the insides of his cheeks at the alarm Howard is displaying on his face, "but I don't think it was a normal fever you know? I feel like it's… It's part of the… You know…" he lifts his hand, "last night I burnt my hand very badly. In the kitchen, on the metal grate in the oven, and it was very painful and I knew it would scar, but today…" he holds out his hand helplessly, "it's gone. No trace and… I'm..."
He trails off. Unsure what the word is to describe the terror he feels at having no control over what's happening to him.
Howard steps forward, grabbing his hand and examining it. He grabs Steve's other hand and studies them together.
He looks up at Steve and a smile breaks over his face, "I can't believe it…"
"What?"
"Erskine and I weren't sure, but… I think this will be a long term fix, something even greater than we could have imagined!"
"Long term… what do you mean?"
"Instead of just healing you then, it's still healing you now."
Steve furrows his brow, "the surgery?"
Howard claps his hands together, "the surgery, the tinctures and healing serum, it's… it's growing, it's evolving!"
Steve takes a step back, "evolving how?"
Howard takes a deep breath, calming himself down, "we weren't sure about the long term effects, but it looks like this will be with you permanently. You won't ever be sick again!"
"But I was sick last night!"
Howard nods, "I can see how you think that… But did you feel pain? Were you coughing or sneezing or exhibiting symptoms of influenza?
Steve thinks back, all he can remember was feeling tired and… off balance. "No…" he admits, "I felt a weird sensation though, like a tingling in my hand, and my heart felt like it was beating fast."
Howard flips through some notebooks, looking and pointing and mumbling before he turns back to Steve and tilts his head. "How much physical activity are you doing right now?"
"Excuse me?"
"Are you running or riding horses? I know you're not active with your wife—" Howard says bluntly, studying his notebooks and missing the way Steve flushes from head to toe, "—so what are you doing each day?"
"I-I don't know. Not much I suppose. I'll help in the kitchens or the stables… I'll work in my studio—"
"You need more physical exercise." Howard says, pointing to a mathematical equation in his notebook as if that would explain everything to Steve. "How much are you eating?"
"I've been eatin—-"
"You're not eating enough. You need to start eating a lot more." Howard starts, cutting him off and rambling again. "Your body is trying to grow slowly because it doesn't have the tools to do it quickly. You need to start exercising vigorously and daily."
"My heart?" Steve asks.
"It's getting stronger too, it's a muscle and you need to work it. Food, lots of it, vigorous exercise and fresh air. I'd work your mind too, study a language or something. Tell me about all of it, okay?"
"Howard…" Steve interjects, "what is going on? I don't understand."
The grin Howard throws towards him is kind but excited. "Steve, you're about to get the biggest surprise of your life. We weren't sure, Erskine said it was possible, and we hoped, but when nothi—-" He slaps his palm against his forehead, "idiots!" He laughs, writing a note and signing his name, "JARVIS!"
He pulls a string that Steve recognizes in his own house as summoning a worker. When Jarvis appears, Howard hands the note to the butler, "can you make sure this note gets to Erskine?"
"Of course, sir."
"Thanks. Steve, we were idiots!"
"Howard, you've lost me."
"Here I am telling you to eat more and exercise, and I didn't even think about the last almost two years when I should have been instructing you to do the same! No wonder, the process has been slow, but! Now we can begin in earnest!"
"Process?"
"Yes! The amplification of your being!"
"Excuse me?"
"It's hard to explain, and since we've never been successful, I don't want to make any wild theories that might be off. We will have to see how it affects you."
"Howar—"
"Lots of food, you hear me? Eat till you're stuffed, and then be physical until you're exhausted and then eat some more, okay?"
"It's winter, Howard, I'm—"
"Promise me, Steve, just promise me, okay?"
And the man looks so hopeful and excited that Steve just sighs and looks at him with fond amusement. "Okay, Howard. I'll do as you say."
"Wonderful!" The man says, clapping Steve firmly on the shoulder, "now, let's go get some breakfast, Anthony will be thrilled you're here."
—-
Peggy hears the door open and she hears Steven greet Ms. Nancy in the kitchens warmly as she listens from the bottom of the stairs.
"Did you get something to eat, sir?"
"Yes, the Starks fed me." He responds cheerily, "but I'll eat again at lunch, if that's okay?"
"Of course, sir!"
"I keep asking you to call me Steve." He says with a laugh, "I promise I don't mind, I prefer it actually!"
Peggy smiles as she listens.
"Oh no, sir. I couldn't, it wouldn't be proper."
She hears Steven sigh, but he doesn't push. Because of course he doesn't, that's not who he is.
She hears his footfalls and scrambles back up the steps a few then proceeds to walk down them as if she was just descending them.
His eyes meet hers as he turns the corner towards the back staircase and he freezes at the sight of her.
"Hello, Steven." She says softly, "how are you feeling today?" It's the first time she's seen him since he left to go get changed and fell asleep in his room. She eyes him, trying to see if he looks all better.
"I'm fine." He says quickly, "I feel normal, thank you, by the way, thank you for that. I am sorr—"
"If you apologize for being an inconvenience one more time I shall have to hit you over the head with a book." His mouth shuts with a click and the apologetic expression on his face makes her laugh. She holds at her waist and laughs, feeling relieved that he's okay. When she looks back at him, his eyes are wide in surprise, and she suddenly feels self-conscious, "what?"
He looks at her in awe, "I've never heard you laugh before, it's a wonderful sound." He immediately flushes at his own words, looking down at the ground. She feels her heart melt just a touch as she descends the last few stairs. When she stands before him, she's struck by the odd sensation of change. He's… almost if not as tall as her now… had she misjudged his height? She shakes her head, clearing the distracting thoughts.
"Steven." She says firmly, making up her mind, "would you be agreeable to a conversation in the library?"
He seems surprised, but he nods in agreement and they walk, a little awkwardly, towards the large wooden door, pushing it in and entering the luxurious room.
She rings for Lorraine and when she appears, she asks, "could I have tea, please? And a coffee for Mr. Rogers?"
"Oh." Steven says, his eyes wide, "you don't have too, I know you don't like the smell—"
"A coffee for Mr. Rogers." Peggy says firmly, "thank you."
The woman nods and disappears and she looks at Steven, pointing to a chair, "please sit, this is going to be quite the conversation."
His trepidation is clear as he sits in the overstuffed chair, running his fingers along the velvet upholstery.
He sits patiently while she gathers her thoughts. After Lorraine drops of the drinks, she takes a steadying sip of the warm beverage and leans back.
"Steven." She starts, "I must admit that…" She swallows thickly, trying to wrangle down her own pride and hurt at the whole situation to address her own actions. How her behavior has affected this man in front of her. No matter how she ended up in this house, or married, it wasn't his fault, and she wasn't going to allow herself to treat him poorly anymore for the sake of her own gain. "I was very unhappy about the entire situation. I—" She starts at the beginning. Telling him about the Mayor's son and her suspicion about him rigging the selection to punish her. And she moves on to the wedding day where Angie had told her about the supposed marriage that had ended when it was more harmful to the villages than good, and how she'd hoped to make him so angry and hateful and hurtful that they would be able to accomplish the same feat.
His eyes grow wider and wider as her tale continues and she doesn't let the range of emotions he has playing over his face change or alter her story. She lays out the bare truth and leaves nothing out.
"All those horrible things I said to you. And…" she pauses, looking at him, shame in her voice, "about you. They were horrid and they were lies. I'm so sorry to have put you through that. You don't deserve that sort of treatment and I apologize for letting my anger and frustration at my own predicament hurt you."
She feels a warm hand on her wrist and she looks up in surprise. She sees Steven looking at her softly and with a smile on his face.
"It's alright." He says gently, "I forgive you. I-I won't lie and say that it was a pleasant experience, but I understand your reasons, and I won't hold them against you."
She feels her heart tighten at the sincerity in his words and she huffs out a disbelieving breath, "just like that? I'm a wretched witch to you for months and you forgive me so easily?"
His head tilts, eyes searching her face, "do you mean it? Your apology?"
"Yes…"
"Then why make you suffer? Why make you miserable by not forgiving you? You apologized, you meant it, I believe you. What else is there to be said?"
"Steven—"
"Margaret—"
"Peggy."
"What?"
"Call me, Peggy. I hate the name Margaret."
He looks momentarily stunned, she watches as he shakes his head, "Peggy?" He asks, and then he smiles, his whole face brightening, "Peggy." He nods, looking at her kindly, "it suits you. Better than Margaret."
She smiles in return, trying to ignore the thrill she feels at the way her name sounds rolling off his tongue.
"I always thought so." Peggy agrees, "my brother called me that and it stuck."
He smiles and ducks his head, "you can call me Steven, if your prefer, but all my friends call me Steve."
Her pulse quickens, "your friends?"
The color of his cheeks is so lovely when it goes pink, "I mean…" he starts shyly, "I suppose we can't remain enemies after the discussion we just had… Would you mind terribly if we became friends?"
She places a hand on top of his and her skin ignites against his. But she ignores it and meets his eyes, "yes. Friends sounds lovely."
They chat for a few minutes longer before he stands and stretches. He turns to leave and she watches as something conflicted crosses his face.
"What is it?" She asks, and he startles, as if surprised she is watching him.
"What? Oh, I…" he looks at her and then to the book of marriages she had shown him during her long apology. "I suppose." He starts, his voice wavering for a moment before he seems to come to a decision. "If you'd like, we can still try to accomplish your goal."
"Hmm?"
"The unification of marriages is very old," he states, tracing the embossed lettering with his finger, "but our villages have been living in peace for centuries now. So… Perhaps we can still find a way for you to be free. I don't know what, but I can tell that you're very clever, and I don't mind difficult work. I'm sure if we put our heads together and got some help… We might find a way to help the villages, while still allowing you to marry someone you actually want to be married to."
His throat seems to close off and his words trail off, but she sits stunned at his line of thought, taken off guard that he would listen to her whole tale and somehow decide he wants to help her anyway.
"You mean…?"
He nods and shrugs his shoulders. "I know you don't want to be married to me, or live here in Acirema, so I'll do anything to help you, whatever you need from me."
He smiles at her and is gone, disappearing through the door and leaving her staring at the empty tea cup in her hands, an internal conflict waging in her heart.
—-
Steve takes the carriage into town, feeling lighter than he has in months. He tells Coulson that he'll walk home again and the man frowns at him.
"Sir, in this cold? That's almost 5 miles, I'll happily wait to take you home."
"No need, Coulson." Steve insists, "I need to be more active anyways, this is a perfect opportunity. Please, I promise I'm fine."
He can sense the man is about to argue so he takes a deep breath and sets his shoulders firmly. "How about this, if I'm not home by supper, you can send out the search dogs for me, alright?" He smiles at his joke, and the man gives him a tight nod before driving away.
Steve bounds towards the door and knocks, feeling strange knocking on a door that was once his home. He hears footsteps and blinks in surprise as Natasha opens the door.
"Natasha!"
"Steve?" She asks in surprise, "I haven't seen you in ages!"
"It's only been a few weeks." He huffs, "is Bucky here?"
"He's in the back, I'll get him."
He waits in the tiny sitting room that also serves as the kitchen and dining room. He looks and notices that most of his art is still up. It makes him smile.
"Steve!" He turns to see his best friend entering from the hallway, "it's so good to see you." They hug, Bucky holding him tighter than usual. "How are you?"
"I'm actually doing okay," Steve answers honestly, "you'd be surprised how much can change in a day." Two sets of raised eyebrows turn in his direction and he laughs, "it's a long story."
Natasha looks at the minutiae clock on the small fireplace mantle, "I have to run back to work, but I want to hear all about it."
She kisses Bucky and ruffles Steve's hair before leaving.
"Have you set a date yet?" Steve asks, looking at Bucky with a content smile.
"I think we're going to wait for spring or summer. She doesn't want to have a winter wedding."
Steve nods, "I understand, that makes sense. I'm sure it will be beautiful."
Bucky nods and straightens his collar, "you want to tell me what has you smiling?"
Steve frowns, causing Bucky to laugh. Eventually, he joins in and just takes a deep sigh of relief, leaning forward and starting the story. He doesn't tell him about the bathtub or the talk with Howard, still unsure how to explain those moments. And he only lightly touches on his fever and how Peggy had cared for him and then their talk.
By the time he finishes, Bucky's sitting there with his mouth open and Steve gently nudges his chin to close it.
"You just forgave her?" Bucky asks incredulously. "Just like that?"
"Buck." Steve admonishes. "It's not her fault, sure I may not have liked her methods, but I can understand the sentiment behind them."
"Steve—"
"No. I don't need you telling me who I can and cannot forgive. I only came to tell you this because you have the biggest mouth in this village."
"What?" Bucky asks in a huff, "what are you—"
"Please," Steve says with a wry smile, "you're going to tell Natasha, and Natasha is going to tell Maria and Clint and a few other people who will tell a few other people and soon the whole village knows."
Bucky scowls but shakes his head, "then why tell me?"
The grain of the wooden table between them is smooth under his fingertips. "I know the village hasn't been fond of Peggy—"
"Who the hell is Peggy?"
Steve ducks his head, "that's what she prefers to be called."
Bucky rolls his eyes, crossing his arms in annoyance, "Okay, fine, go one."
"As I was saying," Steve continues, "the village hasn't been fond of her, and I've avoided the village as well because—"
"Because she was awful and said awful things about you and the village hated her for it."
Steve winces at the harshness in his friend's voice, "maybe so…" Steve starts, "but now I want the village to know the truth, and then maybe… maybe it will make her life a bit easier here, if everyone knows why she acted the way she did. You understand? I don't want them treating her poorly—" He sighs, "I should have done more to dissuade their poor speech of her this whole time, but—"
"Steve!" Bucky snaps, "listen to yourself! Your so-called wife spoke poorly of you for months, practically treated you and the village like a disease and you're here telling me you should have defended her?"
"Well…" Steve starts, "not exactly, just that… I should have tried harder to understand her and her actions—"
"That's insanity, Steve! You—"
"Bucky!" Steve snaps, cutting his friend off, "you've never been forced to leave your home, your family, and marry a stranger just because some governments said you must. And until you do, I'll ask you to keep your judgments to yourself."
He watches Bucky grit his teeth and he sighs.
"So what now?" Bucky growls, "you're just going to keep waiting on little miss high and mighty hand and foot?"
Steve ignores the jab, "we've agreed to try to find a way out of the marriage." Bucky's mouth drops open in shock but Steve isn't deterred, "I think we may be able to work something out. Maybe something other than a forced marriage to unify our villages. Truthfully forcing two strangers together seems archaic and I'm surprised the marriages haven't ended in disaster more often than not."
"You're going to what—" Bucky asks dubiously, "—convince both villages to just accept the dissemination of a tradition that's been going on for close to 1,000 years?"
"I don't know. Maybe it won't be possible, but I've promised to try. It won't hurt to try." He can see Bucky getting ready to argue but he doesn't let him. Standing up and brushing at his pants. "Alright, I'll see you around."
"Steve, don't—"
"Your shift starts soon." Steve says quickly, "I don't want to make you late. I'll see you."
And with that he steps out the door.
—-
Peggy watches the sky as it darkens and she won't admit that she's nervous he hasn't returned home yet, but curse him for making her anxious just by being absent.
She watches as Mr. Coulson checks his watch a few times a minute. Counting down the seconds until supper so he can set out to bring Steve home.
She can hear Ms. Nancy in the kitchens, getting supper prepared, and Lorraine is setting the table. It's the first meal they're going to eat together since their wedding day. Peggy had walked to the kitchens and explained that they would be eating together at supper and had received stunned looks that made her guilt rear heavily in her chest. But they hadn't questioned her and she vowed never to make them doubt her again.
So she'd like to eat dinner with him. If he would just get home.
—
Steve relishes in the crisp air as it circulates through his lungs without making him wheeze or feel tired. He had sprinted for a while once he'd gotten out of the city limits, and then jogged when he felt his lungs burning. Now he walked, calmly and with his hands shoved into his pockets. Snow starts to slowly fall and he looks up, feeling the soft flakes land and melt against his cheeks.
He's running warm again, but… now it feels good. Like his body is functioning at a higher level.
Eventually his lungs feel fresh again and he looks at the road as the snow starts to stick. He grins, picking up speed and running as fast as he can, feeling the cold bite at his cheeks and not bothering him one bit.
—
Peggy swears she hears a deep laugh echo from outside. She sets down the book she was pretending to read to keep her distracted and stands, immediately walking to the front window and looking out.
And in the lamplight by the door she sees him approaching the house, covered in snow and smiling.
She walks quickly to the front door, pulling it open before he has a chance to. He stands on the porch, holding out a hand as if he was about to grasp the door knob. He looks up at her in surprise.
Her eyes catch on a drop of snow as it melts in his hair and trails down as a droplet of water, catching on the tip of his nose and trailing down to his lips. She stares at them, flushed pink with exertion, his cheeks matching the same color, and she feels her breath catch in her throat. His lips form a smile and she looks up to see he's smiling at her, a question in his eyes.
"Peggy? Everything okay?"
"Where have you been!" She says with annoyance, trying to ignore the way her name sounds in his deep tone. "It's dark and snowing!"
He looks back, looking enraptured by the snowfall in the lamplight. "I know," he says towards the front yard, "isn't it beautiful?" He shakes his head, ruffling it with his fingers, spraying droplets out so he doesn't drip on the carpet. Then he shakes his coat off, hanging it and removing his wet shoes before stepping through the front door.
He looks up at her and seems to finally register her facial expression. "Is… are you okay?"
"No!" She snaps, frowning, "we were all worried you'd gotten lost in the dark and snow!"
He looks over and notices Mr. Coulson standing at the door leading to the kitchens with Ms. Nancy standing quietly behind him. He swallows thickly and looks at his watch, "I—" he looks up guiltily, "I said I'd be home by supper time. I'm sorry, I know I cut it close, but I am here."
"It's winter." Peggy says, admonishing him, "you could catch your death of cold, no more night trips by foot."
Steve laughs, a wonderfully pleasant sound that absolutely does not send a thrill up her spine. "Yes, ma'am." He says pleasantly, happy to abide by her arbitrary and out of the blue new rule.
"Supper's ready." Peggy says crisply, "are you hungry?"
Steve looks at her, and for the first time that night seems taken off guard, "we're—" he looks to the staff who seem as shocked as him, "we're eating together?"
Peggy sighs, rolling her eyes, "yes. I've just said so, haven't I? I thought we were going to attempt friendship."
A bright smile slides across Steve's lips and he nods, "of course." He says earnestly, "of course."
—-
Lorraine had set the table traditionally, Steve sitting at the head of the table and Peggy to the side. He offers her his seat but she shakes her head, "no, I don't mind." She admits, "it's just a chair."
He looks hesitant, but sits in the seat gently running his fingers along the thick tablecloth.
She sits next to him and they're served dinner. They eat slowly, and Peggy feels a pang of guilt when he doesn't speak. Hard to break a habit of staying quiet when you've been berated for making any sort of noise for the last couple months.
"I won't bite." She says lightly, "I promise."
He looks up from his plate and gives her a sheepish grin, "sorry, I… don't know what to talk about, I-I'm not much of a conversationalist."
"Oh?" She asks intrigued, "why ever not?"
He flushes slightly, "I've never been good at talking to people. Always get muddled up on my words."
"Seems strange," Peggy comments, "seeing as the most of the village is incredibly protective of you."
Steve stiffens, and she doesn't miss it, but he takes a deep breath and she watches as he tries to exude nonchalance, "oh, well, I've grown up around them, they already know me. We don't know anything about each other."
It's a clear change of topic but Peggy allows it. "What would you like to know?" She offers.
"Tell me about your family." He says, eyes full of sincere curiosity.
So she does. She tells about her overbearing mother and about Michael, how they grew up, terrorizing the house staff and earning the title 'hellions' more than once. She stops to listen as Steve laughs, loud and clear at one of her stories about their escapades with their kitchen staff, stealing sweets in the middle of the night and never getting caught. His eyes are closed and his head is tipped back in mirth and the clear mellow tone of his laugh warms her inside, feeling herself chuckle in response.
She speaks about her father and how he may be misguided sometimes, but that he means well. She talks about her education and even touches on a relationship she'd had with a nice boy named Daniel that never amounted to much.
He listens intently, asking genuine and relevant questions. Truly paying attention and giving her his undivided attention, which… she realizes with a sense of surprise, is the first time any man (not related to her) has ever done that.
She looks at his face, studying his profile as he gently tears a bread roll apart with his fingers.
"What about you?" She asks, prompting him, since he'd fallen into silence, "what about your family?"
He looks up, eyes going a thousand miles away as he smiles. "Well…" she watches as his face lights up, "I grew up with just my ma. My dad died when I was a baby,a nd i don't remember him, but… my ma did the best job. I was really sickly and weak as a child." The honest admission has her intrigued and she leans forward, "I always had some bout of illness and she's lucky she's a healer because I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her."
He continues to speak, softly talking about his mother, the man he calls Bucky, who Peggy knows as James, and then his fiancé, Natasha. How they were a misfitted family from his childhood days and the adventures they went on (when he was well enough).
He starts to turn the conversation back to her, but she doesn't let him, "what about art, how did your love for that start?"
He picks up his glass, taking a sip of the mulled cider within and leaning back, "since I was sick a lot, my mom was inventive to find things I could do that I didn't have to leave my bed for. I read a lot and she taught me some of my school subjects, but my favorite thing to do was draw and sketch. So it became my thing, and with time I worked at it to become my profession."
"You're a professional artist?" She asks incredulously.
He ducks his head, and gives her a hurt pout before laughing good naturedly, "you don't have to sound so surprised."
"No!' She says quickly, "that's not what I meant! I just…" she looks at his amused grin and shoves at his arm, "you're joking with me!"
He chuckles and nods, "yes, yes I am. You fell for it though, so it counts in my favor."
She scoffs, "oh we're keeping track of who tricks the other now are we?"
His face gets serious, "well, you've been tricking me for the last few months, so I need to catch up."
She feels her face freeze, unsure how to respond, but then his face breaks out into a grin and he laughs, "that's two for me."
Disbelief at him causes her to huff angrily and smack his arm, "you're terrible!"
He just laughs and she finds herself grinning along with the ease of his laughter.
They talk for a bit more before curiosity overwhelms her, "how did you get to know the Starks?" She asks, "They all seem incredibly fond of you… Did you meet when you were young?"
She watches as Steve seems to curl in on himself a bit, his voice growing casual and calm, "I met Howard maybe… Just under two years ago I suppose, we got along after that, and they're really very kind people. Honestly too generous, as is exhibited by this house."
While she can tell he's speaking the truth, she has a rather suspicious feeling that that isn't the whole truth. But she doesn't pry. He'll tell her when, or if, he wants.
—
Steve lies in bed smiling, remembering the sound of her laugh and the feel of her hand on his. The way she had looked so surprised when he'd teased her, and the way her hand hadn't hurt at all when she'd smacked him, but every nerve had fired at the touch.
And he blinks, realization growing. He shakes his head. He's not allowed to follow that train of thought.
He's promised to try to help her out of this marriage.
He ignores the ache in his chest that wants to do the exact opposite.
—