Three Months Later
"Here Sam!"
Sam tossed the payload. He was tackled to the ground not a moment later.
Wanda caught the package, using her powers to fend off the approaching arrows.
"Wanda, I'm open!"
Wanda shot the package towards Stella who jumped to catch it. As if on instinct, she looked behind her and dodged the incoming arrow. Leaping over the nearest obstacle, she made a beeline towards the other end of the field.
Beams of light zig zagged across the field. She slipped them easily, months of training hard coded into every step she took. She neared the other end of the field, further than she had ever gotten before.
Another arrow zoomed straight for her. She dodged it, stepping right into one of Natasha's traps.
Before Stella could react she was hoisted high into the air, the rope tight around her ankle.
"Damnit!" She cried, now upside down. "I was so close!"
"How many times do I have to tell you?" Natasha said as she stepped onto the training field from where she had been observing on the sidelines. "Always watch your footwork."
"Yeah yeah," Stella mumbled as she was slowly lowered to the ground. Sam and Wanda rushed over her. They immediately began discussing their plans for the next time Natasha and Steve arranged an obstacle course for training. A new course was set up every month or so, each slightly different than the last. Their team had never managed to cross one, not since Bucky had left at least.
Still in his wings, Sam mimicked Stella hanging upside down in the trap. Stella and Wanda burst into laughter.
Steve cracked a smile, joining Natasha.
"She's improving every day," Natasha commented.
"Don't I know it." He responded, his eyes lingering on Stella.
"We should get her some field experience one of these days. Something low key."
"She's not ready, Nat."
"She's not ready, or you're not?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I know you're worried she's going to get hurt."
Steve didn't respond, all but confirming Natasha's suspicions.
"She's smart, Steve. Nothing's going to happen to her. Besides, we'll find something low stakes for her first mission."
"How many low stakes missions do we go on?" Steve asked, quirking a brow.
"I'll find something. It's good experience for her."
"Stella hasn't expressed any interest in doing…what we do." Steve ended lamely.
"What we do?" Natasha repeated, clearly amused.
"You know…avenging."
Natasha laughed. "Well, have you talked to her about it?"
"Oddly enough, with everything that's happened since she got her powers, I haven't had the chance to mention it." Steve said, a bit sarcastically.
"Steve, she's an enhanced. She's got combat training thanks to you and Bucky. She's smart as a whip…She's a legacy for God's sake. She's the perfect candidate."
"I'm not sure her being a "legacy" is relevant considering her and Tony's nonexistent relationship."
Natasha was not easily deterred, staring at him expectantly.
"I don't know Nat." Steve said as he eyed Stella who was still conversing with Sam and Wanda.
"The team thinks it's a good idea too," Natasha added.
Steve's brows furrowed. "Who have you mentioned it to?"
"Clint, Wanda, Vision, Sam-"
"Okay, who haven't you talked to?"
Natasha smirked.
"At least talk to Stella about it. It's her decision, not yours. Even if you are her mentor."
"I'll consider it. But I'm not pushing her into something she doesn't want."
"Yes boss." Natasha saluted dutifully. She spared a glance at Stella.
"She seems better. Happier."
Steve smiled to himself as a laugh lit up the brunette's face. She glanced at him and their eyes met.
"She does, doesn't she?"
It had been a little over three months since Bucky left. Steve was still searching of course but the trail the Winter Soldier had left grew colder by the day. The assassin was well versed in avoiding detection, having received extensive training by Hydra for that exact purpose. It was making Steve's job nearly impossible. He wouldn't give up though. Bucky belonged at the compound. It was his home.
And Steve missed his friend terribly.
Stella had been getting a little better every day, slowly beginning to attend meal times and eventually joining them for training on certain days at Steve's suggestion. She'd even begun hanging out with them outside of training again.
It was almost as if they'd never imprisoned her.
Almost.
Later that Night
Stella walked into the home theater, two beers tucked against her chest and a bowl of popcorn balanced on one of her palms. She plopped down beside Steve on one of the sofas, handing him a bottle.
"Merman IPA?"
"You said you liked it."
Steve recalled the first night they'd met, back in the city. She'd been tending bar and Steve had been someone else. It had been months, but he still remembered like it was yesterday. It seemed the memory wasn't lost on Stella either.
"Or was that part of your cover?" Stella shot him a smirk before taking a sip of her beer.
"Ha ha," He said sarcastically. "I do like it, thank you very much."
"Where is everyone?" Stella asked, scoping out the empty couches. "Movie night is tonight, isn't it?"
"Wanda and Vision are having date night. Sam left after training to visit his sister and nephews for a few days. Thor went to see Jane. I'm assuming Bruce is in the lab and Clint and Natasha had a SHIELD meeting in the city."
"A meeting you didn't need to go to?" Stella eyed him skeptically.
"It's nothing urgent. They'll brief me when they get back." Steve had been invited of course, but he'd declined.
He'd been thinking about what Natasha had said all day. She was right, there was no point in denying it. Stella was a natural and would make an excellent addition to the team someday. And if that were the case, it did make sense to start bringing her on missions…but a few things held Steve back.
One, he didn't know if Stella was even interested in being an Avenger. She'd never broached the subject to him despite how close the two had gotten in the months since Bucky had left.
And two, he was terrified of the woman getting hurt.
That being said, he had promised to stop hovering and let the woman make her own decisions.
"Guess it's you and me, Brooklyn."
Steve smiled. Stella hadn't used that nickname on him in quite a while.
"What're we watching? It's your pick tonight, right?" She asked.
Steve held up a DVD. Stella nearly choked on her drink.
"Die Hard? Have you seen that before?"
"I haven't. Clint recommended it. Do you not like it?"
"It's a classic, I'm just surprised. You normally pick something a little more dated."
"This movie did come out in the 80's, which were over thirty years ago," Steve pointed out.
"Yikes, forget I asked. I feel old."
"You feel old?" Steve repeated.
"Right. Sorry." She sent him a sheepish grin.
They shared a laugh.
Steve popped the movie in, eventually needing to tap Stella in to change the tv source. Modern technology still confused him at times.
They watched the first half hour of the film in silence, laughing at the cheesy one liners and bad acting. Stella eventually leaned her head onto Steve's shoulder. It was purely platonic, an unconscious movement more than anything else.
"I wanted to talk to you about something," Steve broached hesitantly.
"Oh?" Stella tore her eyes away from the movie, curious.
"Natasha brought up the idea of getting you some field experience."
"Field experience?"
"Joining us on a mission, for example."
"Why would I do that?" Her brows were knit, her brown eyes confused.
"It would be good experience for you. Things are different outside a training arena." Steve paused, remembering the last real experience Stella had using her powers. Her cries from inside the cell after Tony imprisoned her still haunted him. "…How do you feel about that?"
"If you think it would be good for me, I guess I wouldn't be opposed. Did Nat have something in mind?"
"I told her I'd talk to you about it first…Speaking of, we haven't talked about your career goals in a while."
Stella's confused expression returned.
"You know, what you'd like to do with your life after Hydra is out of the picture."
"You know I've been saving for design school to get my architecture license." Stella said.
"Right. I was wondering if anything had changed."
"Where are you going with this Steve?"
"I mean, none of the team pictured this life for ourselves when we started out."
"Okay?"
"And if it were something you were interested in, we could certainly have a conversation about the steps you should take-"
"Wait a minute," Stella interrupted. "You mean, me be an Avenger? You're joking right?"
"I'm being serious, Stella." Steve replied, trying to get a gauge on her mood.
"Steve, with all due respect, I'm not the right choice for the job. I think the team knows that."
"Stella, the team is in agreement that you'd be an asset to us. With a few more years training…"
"Years?" Stella repeated. "What makes you think I'll be here for years? The conversation was always that I'd leave the compound once Hydra and Loki were taken care of, and I had enough control over my powers."
"I thought things might have changed." Steve said, surprised by the ferocity of her reaction.
"Nothing's changed Steve." Stella said shortly. "If anything, it's even clearer than before."
"Stel-" Steve started.
"Do you honestly think I'd be able to be on the same team as the people who locked me up?"
"Stella, I thought we were past this." Steve said, not knowing where all this was coming from. "You've seemed better these past few months."
"I can't just forget what happened Steve. I've moved on as best I can but… in the back of my mind I hear this voice telling me not to get too comfortable here. That it can all change on a dime."
"Even after I explained to you what happened that day? I know we all played a role but-"
"Played a role? Steve, I really appreciate what you've done for me. Really, I do. And I know you care about me, you've made that clear. And I've forgiven the team for what happened." She paused. "But I can never forget."
"Do you really feel that way? Even about Natasha and Wanda?"
"I adore them. I just don't…"
"Trust them?"
"Steve, you don't know what I went through down there. You can never understand."
Steve looked at her and his eyes were pained. He still felt immense guilt for what had happened, how he'd reacted in that moment. And he always would.
"You're right. I'm sorry I brought it up."
"Let's just watch the movie."
Their attention returned to the movie but the atmosphere had clearly changed. Steve could practically sense the negative energy radiating from the woman beside him. The air in the room had warmed significantly. Steve pulled at the collar of his shirt, sweat dotting his brow.
"Listen I'm sorry, okay?" Stella said finally, breaking the silence. "I'll go on a mission or two if you think it'll help me learn to control my powers."
Steve nodded noncommittally. He was still mulling over what she'd revealed to him. Had he been an idiot to assume Stella had gotten over what happened? Would she ever truly forgive them or was she just waiting for the chance to run once the gates were open?
What had happened to her down in that cell?
A Few Days Later
"What's all this?" Steve strolled into the kitchen. Stella had the island covered in bowls and ingredients ranging from icing to eggs. She had an adorable smear of flour on her cheek.
"I'm making a cake for Sam's birthday."
"You are?"
"Natasha asked me to. She's planning a small party for him tomorrow night."
Steve vaguely remembered the redhead mentioning that to him and roping him and Clint into hanging up decorations.
"That was nice of you."
"I worked at a bakery for a couple summers during high school. It's no big deal."
Steve resisted a sigh. It seemed Stella had meant what she'd said to him the other day about not getting too close to other members of the team. Thankfully, Steve seemed to fall outside this classification.
"What flavor?"
"He requested strawberry."
"And you're making it from scratch?"
"Yep."
Steve reached over her shoulder and dipped his finger in the bowl she was beating expertly.
"Tastes good."
"Want to give me a hand?"
"Sure."
She had him start on the frosting, adding sugar, heavy cream and vanilla to a bowl. He whisked it. They worked in companionable silence, indie rock playing from Stella's phone in the background.
Stella bent to reach into the cabinet beneath Steve. He sidestepped her, his elbow grazing the open bag of flour which toppled over. The snowy contents flowed onto the counter and over the edge, directly onto Stella's head.
"Steve!"
"Shoot, sorry!" He righted the bag.
A lot of good it did. Stella stood, clearly irritated but it was hard to take her seriously when she looked like a grandma thanks to the white powder in her hair.
Steve snickered, trying to suppress his laughter.
"Think that's funny, do you?"
Stella picked up the batter covered whisk from her bowl and before Steve could react, flicked her wrist at him. Batter sprayed him, covering his shirt.
"Hey! It was an accident."
"A likely story." Stella's voice was stern but a playful smile tugged at her lips.
"You're gonna regret that." Steve scooped up a handful of flour that still covered the counter and tossed it at Stella.
"Oh, it's on Rogers."
Stella dipped her hand in the batter and stepped toward him threateningly.
"Don't you dare," He said, taking a step back.
Stella smiled, inching toward him. Steve dropped his spoon and made a run for it. Stella followed, brandishing her hand menacingly. She chased him around the island twice.
Steve easily could have outrun her, but he was enjoying their game of cat and mouse. Besides, he hadn't seen a genuine smile like this from Stella in too long. She caught him, smearing the batter on his shirt and neck. Steve retaliated by grabbing the hose from the sink and spraying her.
"Hey!" She laughed and took cover behind the island. Peeking over the edge, she grabbed a nearby carton of eggs and began launching them at Steve. He dodged the first two but the third caught him square in the chest.
"You're gonna pay for that, Rivera."
Seeing the look in his eye, Stella squealed and dropped the carton, preparing to run. Steve caught her easily. He hugged her, smearing the batter and egg coating his shirt on her face.
"No!" Stella protested, fighting him and losing poorly. She looked up at him, laughter lighting up her eyes.
Steve was grinning down at her, his arms still wrapped around her. It felt good when he held her. It felt right.
His grip tightened, holding her gently. His thumb caressed her arm.
Stella was still smiling, her eyes soft now. Steve's smile fell as she watched him with those big eyes of hers. He reached down to brush a smear of batter off her lip.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Steve swallowed. Stella's eyes held his with a gentle intensity.
He cupped her cheek, stroking it with his thumb.
Stella gave him a small broken smile. Her eyes were heavy with unspoken words. He could see the deep affection for him, but also the heartbreak.
The shadow of her real smile broke him out of his daze. He loosened his hold on her at the same time she broke their stare.
An uncomfortable air filled the space between them.
"We should clean up before the maintenance crew has a fit." Stella murmured, effectively moving on.
"Right."
He reached beneath the sink, pulling out some cleaning supplies. Stella had dampened a rag and was running it over the now filthy island.
Steve knew he'd let his heart get the best of him. Stella wasn't the only one who'd been hurting these past few months. The hole in his chest that had been there since Bucky's departure ached.
He watched Stella clean up out of the corner of his periphery. His gaze trailed down her profile, over her slight nose and full lips, her hair curling at the nape of her neck. A warm feeling tingled his skin, briefly filling the hole.
The only time he felt halfway normal lately was when he was around her. He guessed Stella felt the same way.
Because they were the only ones who were truly mourning the loss of Bucky. It was normal to gravitate towards the only other person who could understand. Yet another bond in the tangled web that connected the two of them.
Two Weeks Later
Stella was laying on the bed in her room, flipping through a magazine but not really looking at the pages. Her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of her mentor.
While she still spent time in her room, she was still sleeping in Steve's and would be until the team was perfectly sure she wasn't a risk to another person while she slept. She hadn't had any incidents in months, but she agreed it was better safe than sorry.
Steve had given her his bed. He was still on the cot, sleeping only a few feet away from her in the event there was an incident.
She was grateful for his presence. Without Steve these past few months, Stella was sure she'd have turned into a ghost.
After Bucky had left, they'd both been in a difficult place. Steve had lost his best friend. And Stella…well there wasn't quite one word that described what Bucky meant to her.
To dull the pain of their loss, she and Steve began spending more time together. Now, it was rare to find them apart. They were close. Stella supposed he was her best friend.
It started as an agreement. Steve suggested they make time for things they enjoyed outside of training and the search for Bucky. Self care and all that.
Yes, Stella knew Steve was still looking for Bucky though Steve hadn't mentioned it to her. She was guessing he didn't want her to get her hopes up. Despite this, she was glad someone was looking for Bucky. It felt like a chunk of her soul was missing.
She left her thoughts drift away from Bucky. Sometimes, it was still too painful to think about him. About him abandoning her. About him out there all alone, hiding from Hydra while he searched for the answers he so desperately sought. A pang of hurt rolled through her.
Her thoughts returned to Steve. She'd had a suspicion for a while now that he still had feelings for her. If their brief exchange the other day was any indication, it seemed her suspicions were true.
She wondered why he hadn't made a move. Out of respect for Bucky? Out of respect for Stella? Did he think she wasn't over him? Was Steve was still broken up about Bucky leaving?
Of course he was broken up about Bucky leaving. So was she. She wondered if they would be until the assassin returned.
Steve will take care of you while I'm gone.
What exactly did "take care of" mean to Bucky? Surely, he knew about Steve's feelings for Stella. Did he expect her to move on while he was gone? That Steve would just be there waiting for her when she was ready?
Would Bucky ever come back?
I wish I could ask you to wait for me.
It was still too painful to think about. She adored Steve, but she was still in love with Bucky. It wasn't fair to any of them for Stella to be with him, though she longed for an easy way to move on from the pain that lived inside her.
Her phone began vibrating next to her on the bed. Jace's name displayed on the screen.
"Jace?" She tried to keep the surprise out of her voice. He never called her.
"Stella." The way he said her name was so grave, she immediately sat up.
"What is it?" She demanded.
"It's Mickey."
Mickey. Their old bassist. He'd been Jace's friend before Stella's, already part of the band when she'd come on as lead singer. He was a total sweetheart, a great friend, and a notorious comic.
"What about Mickey?" She asked, though she already had a bad feeling.
"He's gone Stella."
Stella froze.
"What? What do you mean gone? What happened?"
"He was found the day before yesterday. He OD'd."
Stella closed her eyes, pinching the area between her brows as the news sunk in.
Mickey left the band about eight months after Stella joined. He'd been struggling with addiction and had been missing rehearsals for a few weeks. He'd hated disappointing them and finally quit in a group text to the band.
Stella had texted him a few times since to see how he was doing but was met with sporadic replies. Last Stella had heard, he'd moved in with his brother in Massachusetts after a brief stint in rehab.
"God…"
"I know."
Stella was reeling. Addiction had never been a vice she'd struggled with so she couldn't imagine what it had been like for her friend.
"The funeral is this weekend in Lowell, Mass. His brother invited us. Said Mickey would want us there. The guys and I are driving up early Saturday." Jace's voice was heavy with emotion.
Stella knew what Jace was going to ask before the words were out of his mouth.
"Will you be there?"
"…Jace, you know I want to go," She paused, gathering herself. "But I'm on lockdown, remember? I can't leave the compound."
"This is Mickey we're talking about here, Stella." Jace had little patience in his voice. Mickey had been one of his closest friends.
"I know that, Jace. It's not like I don't want to be there."
"It's just one day."
Stella didn't answer.
"Just think about it okay?" The disappointment in Jace's voice was evident.
"I will," Stella said, already feeling guilty.
She flopped back onto her bed, the tears breaking free.
XXX
She was lousy at training later. Her aim was terrible and she couldn't seem to get herself to focus. Jace's disappointed words were still swirling around in her mind.
"Let's take a break," Steve said when Stella missed the target for the eighth time that day. She took a seat on one of the benches, drying her face with a towel. Steve sat beside her and handed her a water bottle.
"You okay?"
Stella stopped herself from lying. It seemed almost natural to say she was fine, but she wasn't. She was far from it. She considered her response.
She and Steve had promised to be honest with each other. Besides, he was her friend. She knew he'd listen to her and at least have kind words to say. After Jace's judgement earlier, it was an easy decision.
"Not really."
"What's on your mind?" His brow furrowed.
"A friend of mine passed this week."
"I'm so sorry to hear that, Stella. Was it unexpected?"
"Yes." She paused, debating telling Steve how Mickey died but deciding not to stain his memory. "He was a good friend. If not for him after mom and abuela passed, I don't know how I would have gotten through it."
It was the truth. She'd met Jace and Mickey shortly after moving into her apartment. They'd become fast friends. Mickey's mom had died when he was a kid and he'd empathized with Stella in a way Jace couldn't.
Steve nodded solemnly.
"And…I can't even go to his funeral." It was hard to keep the despair out of her voice.
Stella let her head fall into her hands. Steve was quiet for a while, but he reached out to rub her back in a soothing way.
"When is the service?"
"Saturday."
"Saturday." Steve repeated under his breath. "Stella, you deserve the chance to say goodbye to your friend."
"What can I do? I can't leave the compound."
"…I'll take you to the service."
Stella met his gaze.
"Steve, what about Hydra? The funeral is all the way in Lowell, Massachusetts."
"You let me worry about the details," He assured her.
Gratitude welled, hot and fierce inside her.
"Thank you, Steve."
He smiled at her reassuringly.
"Thank you for being honest with me."
Saturday
At 6am Saturday morning Steve slowly shook Stella awake.
"Stel, it's time. We gotta get on the road."
Stella rose and pulled on her black dress and stockings. The last time she'd worn it had been Abuela's funeral, nearly a year and a half ago. Time was weird.
She followed Steve down to the garage where they climbed into a black SUV.
"Whose car is this?" Stella asked, noting the luxurious interiors and state of the art display.
"Technically it's a compound resource, so no one."
"Steve, does anyone know you're taking me today?"
"I told Sam. He'll cover for us if anyone asks where we are."
It was then Stella noticed Steve's shield in the back seat.
"Just in case," Steve said when he noticed her looking. "The vehicle is armored. You'll be safe."
Her safety was the last thing on her mind today.
It was still dark when they pulled out of the garage and up to the front gates of the compound.
The gate attendant's eyes flicked over Stella when he noticed her in the front seat, but he didn't comment. Stella guessed she got a pass for leaving since she was with Steve.
She slept for the first few hours of the journey. When she woke it was around 9am. She offered to drive for a bit so Steve could get some sleep but he declined.
They arrived at the funeral home at quarter of, almost perfect timing.
Stella found Jace, Eddie, and Gus almost immediately. Steve hovered in the back of the parlor, trying to be discreet.
"Hey."
"Jesus, you made it," Jace said, engulfing her in a hug. "How'd you escape?"
Stella nodded to the back of the room where Steve was doing his best to blend in with the rest of the mourners.
"Cap," Jace muttered to himself, shaking his head. "Dark and dangerous around too?"
It took Stella a moment to realize Jace was referring to Bucky. As she was already emotional, his name brought on an unexpectedly sharp sting.
"No, Bucky's not here," She responded quietly. She greeted Eddie and Gus, giving them quick hugs.
"Listen, I'm sorry for the guilt trip I gave you on the phone," Jace said to her quietly. "It wasn't fair. I was hurting."
"Don't worry about it." Stella gripped his hand.
The service was short. Thankfully there was no viewing. Stella preferred to remember Mickey the way he was in her memories. Happy, cracking jokes with laughter lighting up his face.
After the service, the group made their way to the cemetery and watched as their friend was lowered into the ground. At some point it started to rain and while the rest of the mourners dispersed, Stella and her friends lingered around the grave. Steve, who'd been hovering at the edge of their group, turned to walk away to give them some privacy. Stella reached out and snagged his hand, clutching it tightly. Wordlessly, he held it and moved under her umbrella to share.
After the group said their goodbyes Stella and Steve made their way to the SUV, their hands still clasped.
"Should we get a bite before heading back?" Steve suggested. "You haven't eaten all day."
"You haven't either," Stella pointed out. "Sure, let's stop."
Steve found a diner nearby. They both ordered a burger and fries. The waitress smiled at them before hurrying off.
"This place looks like it hasn't been updated since the fifties," Stella muttered. The diner looked like a time machine. The tables were a dingy white with aluminum edging, the chairs a faded red and white vinyl.
"That juke box has definitely been around since the forties, at least." Steve commented, nodding to a dusty, broken-down machine in the corner.
"I thought juke boxes were a fifties thing."
"We had them in the thirties and forties too, but I think they hit peak popularity in the fifties."
Stella loved learning about the past from Steve's perspective. So much of what she'd learned about history had been gently corrected by Steve, who'd been there to witness it and therefore, couldn't be refuted as a source.
"What else was popular in the forties?"
Steve looked thoughtful for a moment.
"The movies were big. Swing dancing and big band music. And radio of course. My mom used to listen to soap operas on them."
"They had soap operas on the radio?" Stella asked, trying to imagine it.
"Yep, mom loved her stories." Steve smiled fondly.
"What was she like?"
Steve rarely spoke about his mother.
"She was kind, sweet but tough. She was a nurse, so she was used to dealing with rascals at work. She had a big smile and a loud laugh. She was pretty." Steve frowned. "Her face gets blurrier as time goes on. She's been gone so long now…"
"How old were you when she passed?"
"18."
"You were young."
"I would've been all alone if it weren't for…" Steve trailed off. Their eyes met and Stella knew they were thinking the same thing. "Bucky."
Stella cleared her throat, taking a sip of her soda. She wondered idly when it would stop hurting when she heard his name, or at least when she thought of him.
"Steve…thank you for taking me today."
"It was nothing, Stella."
"It's not nothing to me." Stella reached across the table and took Steve's hand. It was warm in her palm. "Thank you for being there for me." She held his gaze. Steve's hand tightened on hers.
"Thank you for being honest with me." He replied. "…I'm glad you trust me."
"Of course I do." She said quickly, realizing it was true. If she could trust anyone, it was Steve.
She hesitated. Something had been weighing on her since she'd heard of Mickey's passing. She swallowed.
"…I keep thinking there was more I could've done for Mickey. I've been so wrapped up in me, I hadn't even checked on him since I moved into the compound." Tears prickled at her eyes. Steve stroked her hand comfortingly.
"Addiction is a disease, Stella. This isn't your fault."
Steve must've overheard how Mickey had died at the ceremony. She pressed on.
"I know. I just…miss him."
They broke apart when their food came, the elderly waitress politely aheming when she saw their clasped hands. She deposited the food, a warm smile on her face as she told them to enjoy their meal. They devoured the food hungrily.
As they ate the weather outside worsened quickly. The sky darkened and the wind picked up, blowing branches and debris through the street.
"Are you folks local?" The waitress asked kindly as she picked up their now empty plates.
"No, we're from New York." Steve answered.
"I hope you're not driving all the way back there tonight. The storm's only supposed to get worse. It's looking to be a bad one."
Worry furrowed Steve's brow.
"I'd grab a hotel if I were you," She suggested.
"Is there one nearby?"
"Just up the road, on the right before the interstate."
Steve thanked her. When the bill came, he paid it before Stella could even look at how much it had been.
"I wanted to get that," She grumbled.
"Hm?" Steve said, pretending to be distracted as he signed the receipt and tipped generously.
Stella rolled her eyes.
"Thank you," She said to the waitress warmly when she came back to pick up the check.
"Thank you. I have to say you two make a lovely couple." The woman said kindly.
Steve turned pink. Stella smiled to herself and thanked the woman again.
"Do you mind if we find a hotel? It's already late and with the weather I'd feel better if we headed out at first light." Steve said once they were seated in the front seat of the SUV.
"Fine with me."
They pulled into the tiny inn at the end of the road and sprinted into the office as the cold rain pelted them. They were soaked by the time they reached the lobby.
Steve spoke with the front desk attendant while Stella wiped her running mascara from under her eyes in a dingy mirror that was hung on the wall.
"One room, two beds," She overhead Steve say to the attendant.
The worker typed on her computer.
"We do have one room available, but I'm afraid it's only one bed."
Steve frowned.
"There is a pull-out couch," The receptionist added.
"Should we try somewhere else?" Steve asked, turning to Stella.
"I don't think we're going to find a ton of options around here Steve. Seems pretty quiet."
"Alright. We'll take it."
XXX
"You're not sleeping on the pull-out Steve. That thing is tiny."
Pull-out was a generous term for the miniature loveseat shoved in the corner of the motel room.
"It's not that bad," He said as he unfurled it. The revealed mattress was stained a dull brown.
Stella tried to imagine 6' 6'' Steve curled up on the teeny bed. Steve clapped the cover in an attempt to clear some of the dust. A spring popped out of the top. Stella snorted.
"Just sleep in the bed with me. It's a queen, there's plenty of room for both of us."
"Are you sure you don't mind?"
"I don't Steve."
He seemed hesitant.
"It's not like we haven't done it before," Stella added. If he still seemed offput by the idea, she'd offer to take the pull-out but she hoped the man merely gave in and agreed to share the big bed.
"Alright." He acquiesced. "I'm going to call Sam and let him know we won't be back tonight. Want the first shower?"
Stella nodded. She slipped into the bathroom, shedding her cold, damp clothes and draping them over the towel rack. The warm shower felt divine on her skin though the water pressure left something to be desired, especially compared to the superior plumbing at the compound. She really was getting spoiled.
After she got out, she donned one of the white robes hanging on the wall. Her clothes likely wouldn't be dry until morning and neither Steve nor herself had packed a bag to stay the night.
Steve was just finishing his phone call when she opened the door and stepped into the room.
"Thanks Sam." He hung up.
"All good back at home base?"
"Yep. The team thinks we're out late training on the grounds." Steve frowned. Stella knew he hated being dishonest.
Steve hopped in the shower next. Stella dried her hair with the towel, watching the weather worsen from their window. Though it was only early evening, the sky was an angry gray. Rain pelted the glass heavily.
Stella was glad they'd chosen to spend the night, despite the risk. She noted Steve's shield (that he'd smuggled past the front desk attendant when her back was turned) was stowed in the corner on the rack meant for luggage.
Steve eventually emerged in a white bath robe of his own.
"You know, for a crappy hotel these are kinda nice," He commented, stroking the waffle knit fabric.
"Agreed. Although I think I may have left you with the smaller one," Stella said with a smile, noting how short the robe was on Steve compared to her.
"You know, I thought it was a little short," He said, looking down at his bare knees.
Stella laughed as he grinned at her.
"Let's switch. I'm drowning in this thing anyway."
"Oh. Uhm…" Pink dusted Steve's cheeks. He really was just too easy to embarrass.
Stella smiled and twirled her finger at him, signaling for him to turn around.
"Right." Steve turned abruptly, looking every bit the soldier as he did. Still smiling, Stella shrugged off her robe and handed it to him. Steve fumbled for it, his warm fingers brushing hers. Stella turned and he handed her his once he managed to get it off. She slipped it on.
It was warm from his body heat. She turned in time to catch a glimpse of his bare muscled shoulders disappearing beneath the robe.
"Okay to turn around?" He asked after a minute.
"Yes Captain," She teased, crawling onto the bed. She picked up the remote. "Want to watch a movie or something? It's still early."
"Sure." Steve gingerly sat beside her on the opposite side, maintaining as much of a polite distance between them as was possible. Stella had to resist rolling her eyes.
She flipped on the tv and browsed the limited channels, ultimately settling on Fifty First Dates.
"Have you seen this one?" She asked him.
He shook his head.
"After I met the team Clint compiled a list of Adam Sandler movies for me to watch, but this wasn't one of them."
"Hm, a rare miss on Clint's part."
She curled up on her side of the bed while Steve eventually settled onto the other.
She dozed off at some point. When she woke Steve was also asleep, his arm propped behind his head. Stella flipped off the tv before laying back down beside him. It was cold in the room, even beneath the covers.
She eyed Steve greedily. The man was a furnace on a bad day. She inched closer, laying her head on his chest and pressing the rest of her body to his lightly so as not to wake him. His heart beat steadily against her ear. He shifted, his arm draping across her shoulder.
Stella sighed contentedly and fell straight to sleep.
A/n: Please drop a review if you're enjoying the story so far! Thanks for reading!