#pseudo princess pt19

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.19

Queen’s Rights

12/05/2019

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 5,785

Warnings: language, jealousy, lots of fluff y’all, a smidge of angst

A/N: It took me way too long to write this one up. I knew what I wanted to say but I just kept wanting to go to sleep early. I hope you enjoy it. I’m going to let this one speak for itself. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

There’s a quiet knock on your door.

You groan, protesting against the intrusion while large arms constrict around you.

Flexing your fingers, you feel the soft tuft on Steve’s chest, and slide them through a little more eager to feel the curve of his pecs.

“It’s probably for me.” He whispers against your hair, no drowsiness.

You wonder what time it is but when you take a peek, you see the curtains are still drawn and darkness presses in like a soaked rag, drowning you in what must be early morning.

No sun yet, but soon.

You don’t feel rested. It can’t have been more than three hours since you fell asleep.

Groaning again you cuddle in more deeply to the warmth that envelops you. Part luxurious satin and silk sheets, part Steve’s protective cage. At some point in the night you’d drifted into his arms and you’re honestly not that upset about it. It’s warm here.

He tightens his arms, huffing a small tired laugh as he nuzzles against your hair.

“My sweet flower…” He whispers, so low you don’t know if you really heard it or if you’re dreaming again.

Your bliss is broken by a second set of hesitant knocks.

“Your Majesties,” The voice is unwelcome.

So much so, you react on instinct.

“What the fuck?!” You sit up, jerking out of Steve’s arms easily, your voice lethal but quiet.

Etiquette be damned.

All sleep is wiped from your body as you stare, dumbfounded, by the audacity of the woman on the other side of your door.

Beside you, you can feel Steve sit up, his hand finds the spot between your shoulders, and he slides it down and back up to rub you and offer you a bit of reassurance you guess.

“Sharon, now is not a good time.” He says, no drowsiness in his voice now, only stern disapproval.

He brings his hand all the way up to caress the back of your head, watching you fume because it’s all you can do. Stare daggers at the door.

You feel two of his fingers take hold of your chin and he turns you to look him in the eyes.

He leans in, kisses the tip of your nose. There’s a look of starvation in his eyes, like finally quenching a hunger left unsated.

“Why is she here?” You demand.

Steve shakes his head. He doesn’t know.

He reaches up with the pad of his thumb and slowly slides it along your bottom lip.

He licks his own.

You see it coming and you half want to pull away from pure rage, but the half that’s winning out is the one that needs the reassurances his gentle stroking had offered.

The way his brow curves down, fixating on your face and unable to hear the voice that’s still calling out from the other side of your door.

“Your Majesties, I’m sorry to bother you so early.” Sharon continues, and on some level of thought you realize she sounds remorseful.

Steve moves his thumb from your lip, placing his hand along the side of your face as he leans in towards you.

“I wouldn’t have come if it weren’t important.”

Steve lips flutter. There’s a moment when you realize he spoke. Then his words reach your ears.

“My sweet…” He coos at you, your heart flutters.

“Your Majesties?” Peter’s voice pipes in, uncertain and clearly regretful.

He, more than most, knows how much this time with Steve matters.

Peter wouldn’t bother you unless it was important.

A warning sounds in your head but Steve’s breath heats up your lips and your eyes shut by themselves.

You’re merely a puppet to your body’s most desired whims.

“Your Majes-" You begin but he silences you quickly, luscious lips gliding along your own, melding against yours as he cements every promise, every hope and dream he’s declared tonight.

His arms are around you once more, pulling you tight against his chest crushing your hands between your bodies as your fingers greedily skate across his skin.

The mattress presses into your back. Heat settles between your legs and you feel Steve’s searing fingers trail up along your thigh, pushing your nightdress up as he goes.

His tongue slips past your lips and you whimper into his mouth as he tastes you.

“Your Majesty, I really didn’t want to say this here but I feel I must inform you that there’s been another attack. Just like those four years ago.” Sharon’s voice offers, confident that this will get her what she wants.

Steve pulls back, an audible smack as he stares down at your lust glazed expression.

“It looks like them.” Peter adds, and this finally gets Steve to turn towards the door, frowning.

He stares at it for a few seconds, then looks down at you. Your bosom rising and falling, tantalizing nerves filling your stomach with flutters, your heart suddenly drops as you see the regret fill his face.

You lick your lips, run your hands through his soft blonde locks again, and know that you must speak the one word that will take him from you.

“Hydra…” You whisper.

“Nothing else could take me from you.” He proclaims and you’re suddenly weighted with a terrifying dread.

Could you guilt him into staying with you? Here in your arms where you know he’s safe?

The day had begun so pleasantly and then fallen into turmoil. Right now, all of your anger is diminished by sleep, and your night is back to pleasant.

“Will you come back to me?” You wonder, truly uncertain.

Steve leans down, nuzzling your nose with his own. “The very moment I’m free.”

You pull him closer, hands fisting his hair as he meets your lips with carefully controlled passion.

It feels like he’s holding himself back and you can’t wait until he can finally unleash.

~~~~~~~~~~

It takes all day. This meeting.

Nat is gone. Peter is gone. Steve is still gone.

You haven’t seen Sam or Bucky or Sharon and your mind is racing with possibility.

They wouldn’t have left without telling you goodbye.

Steve especially. After everything, you’re almost completely sure that he would rather cut off his left hand than leave you without a proper goodbye.

Right?

You rise from your seat, moving to the window to peek out at the garden just out of sight. The entrance is the only thing you can see, and you wish you could spot Steve wandering through it, glancing back at the castle in hopes that you’re looking out at him.

At least then you knew that he was waiting for you.

There are other worries on your mind aside from the ones of your budding new romance.

Sharon had said there was a new attack. On a village. Were the children okay? How many men and women had fallen to these Hydra ruffians?

Wringing your hands, you pace towards your tea table, then turn back and pace towards the window once more.

You have to know what happened in the village. This time there is no doubt in your mind that it’s your business to be aware of the state of the kingdom. Maybe you’ll ride out to see what can be done?

As you pull down on the black satin wrists of your sleeves—pale golden leaves and vines wrap around your arms and torso—you wheel around, grabbing the russet skirts of your dress, and move from the room while ignoring the protests of the same soldier who’d switched with Peter last night while you and Steve fought.

“Wait, your Majesty!” He calls after you as you storm through the hallways.

“Keep up, Sir Knight.” You tell him and he catches up, sighing when he realizes that he can’t stop you.

“Where are we going, Madam?” He asks, sounding rightfully frightened.

In the past two months you’ve proven to be quite the handful. Running off. Coming back and raging at Steve. You’ve begun to embrace your temper, and this makes the young Knight nervous.

“I can no longer sit out of his Majesty’s council. If I’m to perform my duties as Queen properly, I need to know what’s happening in my kingdom.” You reply passionately, intent on finding out if you can be of any assistance to the people devastated by this new attack.

“Uh…your Majesty,” The Knight begins, the protest clear in his tone, but he doesn’t get the chance to finish as you and he round the last corridor and find yourself face to face with Sharon.

Dressed in dazzling emerald green, beige cutouts and embroidered glittering beads, her blonde hair offers a pleasant contrast. Her pale pink lips and soft brown eyes offer a more innocent persona than the one you know to be true.

With your hammering heart and aching belly, you reach down to stroke it, inadvertently drawing her attention down to it.

In your dress, you still can’t see the tiny swell. Steve had kissed it and felt it last night and all afternoon yesterday, but to everyone but Grandmother, Nat, and him your baby is still unrepresented.

Sharon stares at your hand soothing your tummy and then turns those soft brown eyes back on you full of apology.

“Your Majesty,” She says and though you should be happy that she’s addressing you as she should—her queen—you feel only anger and pain.

She curtsies.

“Why are you out here?” You ask her, ignoring conventions because you can’t bear to be civil with this woman who’d tried to bed your husband only last night.

Sharon straightens up, glances over her shoulder as she gestures to the door.

“Oh, the council is over. I’ve been dismissed and am heading back home. I want to get on the road before the afternoon gets too late. I’m not averse to travelling by night but with new attacks on the rise-”

“Where’s his Majesty?” You ask her, not interested in her plans.

Sharon watches you, no doubt noticing the way you refuse to look at her and take to looking at the door behind her, the balcony to your left, the floor, anything but her face.

“Your Majesty, I fear that I must ask for your forgiveness.” Her gaze is relentless and with no other option, you look at her.

She doesn’t look particularly sorry. In fact, she looks a little defiant, chin raised up just a bit.

“I cannot apologize for attempting to find in Steve the companionship that I’ve always sought. He married my cousin and so I’d given them their space.”

Is she seriously going to use his name in front of you?!

“He’d made his choice and she was happy so, I relented. I gave up my own happiness so that they could have theirs. I put it so far out of my mind that the fact that he was free to marry once again had not even entered my mind. Not until I saw him with you at the feast did I realize that perhaps, once again, I’d missed my opportunity.”

She waits, watching as you fume as if you’re going to acknowledge anything that she’s saying.

When you don’t, she continues, looking a little more remorseful but still a bit too full of pride to really be sorry.

This creature. This goddess dressed in jade is every bit the image of the Queen that Steve deserves at his side with all the grace and the bitterness you feel is justified. This woman had crawled into Steve’s bed knowing that you’re pregnant. Knowing that he’s married.

You can never forgive her for that disrespect. And she doesn’t really look as if she wants it.

“I really thought that he didn’t love you. I know how desperate he’d been to keep his kingdom and I assumed that he’d tried hard to look as if he really does love you and perhaps even fabricated the pregnancy just to ensure Broklin’s safety.

“I’m sorry.” She finally says and lapses into silence.

A death stare is not nearly good enough to describe the hatred you feel in this moment for Sharon. One of Steve’s oldest friends.

The insecurity you feel when she’s around, talking as if she knows your husband better than you do…wait…but she does. Of course, she knows him better than you do.

You’ve haven’t even known him a year yet. She’s known him her whole life.

This depresses you.

“No, you aren’t.” You shake your head. “You’re not sorry one little bit.”

She swallows thickly, her eyes glued to yours.

“You came into my home and had the nerve to disrespect the sanctity of my marriage. You not only offended me and his Majesty, but you put this kingdom at risk.

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but I do happy to love his Majesty very much and I think he loves me too. We may not have started out easily—he loved your cousin very much and I know that I can never take her place—but we are finally getting somewhere, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you ruin it.

“I am the mother of his child and will bear many more children for him. I am Queen of Broklin and no one, not even you can take that away from me. As I cannot trust you, I must ask you to never come back here again unless summoned by his Majesty directly. When you do come, you’re to come and do as you are ordered and then go back home.

“If and when you earn my trust again, we will revisit your privileges of visitation in my and his Majesty’s court.” You’re firm in your orders, angry but resolved.

This woman will not get the better of you. She will not shatter your newly earned confidence. You won’t let her ruin this for you or Steve…mostly.

Sharon looks down at your hands, carefully folded around your teeny bump, then meets your eyes again, her own full of subdued rage and annoyance.

“Goodbye, Lady Carter.” Eyebrows shooting up into your hairline, you pointedly wait for her to move.

Sharon curtsies, and without a second glance, moves around you and out of sight.

Trembling you stand there, trying to compose yourself before Steve or any of the others come out.

You chew your lip violently, tearing into the skin and rusty copper coats your tongue.

“Your Majesty?” Your protector checks.

Before you can assure him of anything, the doors to Steve’s council chambers open and the first face you see is that of Lord Ross, looking focused and serious.

He stops as he spots you, bowing low at the waist. “Your Majesty. I hope you are well?”

He’s only being polite, but you try to offer him a smile. “I’m…”

Everyone else files out behind him, first Bucky, then Sam, Thor, Nat, an older man you have never met who looks to be in his mid-forties with graying dark brown hair and a tension in his posture as he hovers behind everyone.

All of them look at you, shocked to see you there.

“Y/N?” Nat’s confusion is mirrored on everyone’s face until Steve moves out of the council room looking just as tired as he had the day before.

He gives everyone a look of confusion, “What’s going on?”

“Your Majesty, are you alright?” Bucky asks, reaching out to place his hand on your forearm but you quickly pull your arm against your chest as your eyes widen in embarrassment and terror.

“Forgive me.” You mutter, grab your skirts, and rush away.

“Your Majesty!” Nat calls after you, trying to move around Bucky.

“Little bird!” Thor calls, also moving after you.

“Y/N, wait.” Steve says calmly.

There are footsteps following behind you and you can’t be sure whose they are until a large hand closes around your wrist.

“Please, wait.” Steve begs. “What’s the matter? Were you coming to look for me?”

He almost sounds happy about it, though worried.

As you fold your arm, curling it in towards yourself, Steve’s grip is so tight that it only draws the two of you closer. He uses the opportunity to pull you in against his chest. So close but not quite pressed up against it.

He releases your wrist and wraps one arm around your waist.

“Look at me.” He urges you, hooking one finger under your chin to draw your gaze up and away from his chest to meet his storm blue eyes full of heart melting concern. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, tempted to cry. Not because you’re sad. But your frustration is overflowing.

Sharon really upset you and you can’t shake the feeling that she may never stop wanting Steve. What if she tries again? They have so much history together. What if he gives in?

Embarrassed you look around his wide shoulders, just a peek at the group behind him that are all watching you with concern to match his own. Thor seems a bit more upset and you know as soon as you read his eyes that he is very aware that you’re upset without you needing to say so.

“What has upset you, little bird?” He asks from the other end of the hall.

You shake your head, just one small quick shake and turn your gaze back down to Steve’s chest.

“You’re upset?” Steve asks, now sounding equally upset himself.

“Not here.” You whisper, looking around him again.

He straightens up, wraps his arm around your shoulder to give you a quick squeeze then looks over at those waiting.

“If you’ll excuse us?” He says, using the same tone he uses when he speaks to his subjects during the weekly visitations. “Stay here.”

He orders the young Knight who’d followed you.

Everyone recognizes the use of his King’s voice as opposed to their friend and as such, they all bow or curtsy. Thor is the only one who does a small nod—a king himself.

“Come on.” Steve tells you, voice soft again.

He takes your hand and leads you away from the council room, up to your shared wing but moves past your bedroom door and his own and pulls you into his office.

When he reaches his desk, he moves to lean against it, turning to face you and hold both of your hands.

His leaning puts him more at your level and you’re able to look at him more easily.

“Tell me.” He pleads. “Did I do something? Did the meeting take too long?”

You shake your head again.

“Please tell me, sweetheart. I’ll try and make it better.” He urges you, and you feel a little guilty. Is he always this attentive or is he like this because of everything that’s happened between the two of you?

You want him to be his normal self.

“It’s Sharon.” You explain, feeling a bit better now that it’s just the two of you.

With his hands hot around yours, calloused skin chaffing your palms, you take comfort knowing that he’s here with you and not with Sharon wherever she might be now on her way home.

“Oh.” Steve says, his face falling a bit.

“I bumped into her just outside of the council room.” You continue.

“Oh.” Steve says again, this time voice rising as if he’s expecting you to say something good.

“She apologized about what happened last night.” You tell him and his eyes shine with glee. “But she didn’t mean it, your Majesty.”

The disappointment that floods his eyes is for both your declaration of a false apology and because you still won’t say his name.

“Why do you think that?” He asks, releasing your hands but only so that he can stroke your arms from bicep to forearm and then back up.

You’re grateful that he lets the name thing go for now.

“Because I know.” You let him pull you a little closer, settling between his slightly bent knees as he grips your elbows and holds you still. “It was in her eyes. Her tone. She said all the right words, but you could tell she didn’t mean them. So, I…”

What if he gets angry? What if he yells at you and tells you that you can’t keep Sharon from coming here? What if he takes her side?

“What, my sweet?” He gently pushes.

Maybe you should just be honest?

“I’m afraid.”

“Of what, my blossom?” He worries, pulling you a little closer to rest his hands on your back just above your waist.

There’s still enough space to fit another person—well maybe Peter—between you but the intimacy of the gesture is not lost on you.

“That you’ll be angry with me, for what I told her. For what I did.” You chew your lip and Steve is quick to cup the side of your face, once again running his thumb against the bitten pucker to smooth your lips out and prevent you from damaging it further.

He frowns at the small cut you’d bitten into it earlier.

“Why would I be angry with you?”

“Because I-I told her that until I can trust her, until she’s proven herself to be trustworthy again, that she’s to stay away unless summoned and as soon as her business is concluded, she’s to go back home. No exceptions.

“I told her that she is no longer welcome at court, until I believe she is actually remorseful.” And there it is, all laid out for him to deal with.

Your eyes are glued to his furrowed brow, dark storm blue eyes churning with thought as he takes in your confession.

“What did Sharon say when you gave her this order?” He asks, and his voice is so even, you aren’t sure what to think.

Is he angry? You can’t tell. He looks just as concerned as before. Just as full of questions.

“Nothing.” You answer honestly. “She looked at me as if she wanted to rip my eyes out of their sockets, glared at our baby, and then curtsied and left.”

“She glared at the baby?” Steve asks, absolutely miffed as he places his hand on the teeny curve.

“Well, maybe she was glaring at me?” You sigh. “I’m sorry if-”

“Don’t be sorry, Y/N. If Sharon being here in our home is not something that you are comfortable with then we will keep her away.” He nods, firm in his decision.

You suddenly huff a small laugh, all air and surprise.

“What?” Steve asks, his own lips curling up on one side at the sound of your laugh. “Why do you laugh?”

“I don’t mean to.” You shrug. “I’m just not used to you like this. Open. Siding with me.”

Steve’s face falls a little.

“It’s a good thing.” You smile at him, “I’m enjoying you fighting for me instead of with me.”

It’s not your intention to guilt him but that’s what happens, and he groans, resting his forehead on your shoulder.

You reach up and stroke the soft blonde tresses as they fall towards you, his hair needs a good washing and he needs sleep. You can see it in his face again. Exhaustion.

For a moment you consider insisting he take a nap but then you remember the reason he hasn’t been able to sleep.

“What happened?” You ask him, nudging him up.

“Hm?” He asks, sleepy.

As he straightens up, you keep your hair on the back of his head, tickling the small hairs on the nape of his neck.

“The attack?” You remind him.

His face darkens and all sleep seems to vanish from his expression. “Oh. That. It seems that Hydra has attacked a small village just at our South Eastern border.”

“Were there any casualties? Can we go there? I’d love to help. Anything that I can do, I’m willing to contribute. Food? Supplies? Some doctors? Do they need help repairing their homes or crops? Were there any injured children?” You gasp. “Oh, what if some of them were left orphans? I know what that feels like.”

Steve’s somber expression breaks into a blissed out, sappy smile. He blinks at you slowly, blue eyes sparkling with pleasure.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You demand, frowning because your mind is still very heavily occupied with thoughts of the victims.

“Because you’re so kind and your thought is not with the fight but with providing help to those that need it.” He explains.

“Of course. Our people come first. They need our help.” You insist. “Can I-?”

“Don’t worry, my love, I’ve already dispatched plenty of aid to the region and I have lots of volunteers to help rebuild the village.” He assures you.

“Was it really very damaged? The people? Were there any fatalities?” You fret.

“The people are mostly fine.” He promises. “There were a few minor injuries. One man lost his life trying to sabotage the Hydra spies’ plan when he became suspicious of them.”

Steve looks down at your tummy, pressing his hand against it lovingly, caressing it. The pain that flashes across his face is real and personal. These people really do mean the world to him.

“We’re making sure that his widow and children want for nothing.” His sorrow is palpable, and you cup the sides of his face to reassure him, to offer any amount of comfort that he might get from your fingers tickling his beard.

Staring into his handsome face, warped with sleep and the endless weight of his sovereignty, you wonder if there’s anything you can do to really help him now, since he’s already got the village covered.

“You look very tired, your Majesty.” You observe.

He shuts his eyes, an exhale of utter grievance slipping through his full lips. An added sorrow twists his already grieved expression. A more embellished downturn to the corner of his lips and just the slightest of creases bringing forth small ridged wrinkles across his wide forehead.

“What is it?” You fuss over him, moving a little closer. “Are you hurting anywhere?”

It’s not like he went out of the castle, but still you can’t help the worry as it comes. You don’t want him hurt.

“Yes.” He admits, and your hands begin to wander down over his shoulders. “Yes, I am very hurt.”

“Where? What happened?” You gasp, looking down at his taut body, chest hair peeking out from the small V of his white puffed sleeve shirt.

“My wife refuses to call me by my name.” He says.

For a moment you’re confused, then realize that his injury is not physical but emotional. Mental.

The ass made you worry for no reason and compared to a village recovering from a recent attack, this grievance of his seems like small potatoes.

You shove his shoulder.

“Don’t do that to me.” You complain, legitimately irritated with his chosen plight.

Steve chuckles. “I’m sorry, but I can’t take this ‘Your Majesty’ thing any longer. I need you to call me Steve.”

“No.” You twist away from him but he’s on his feet chasing after you. You almost want to resist now because of this little stunt. Jerk.

“Come along, wife, please?” He insists.

The shift of atmosphere is subtle, but all tension is wiped away as an infectious playfulness takes hold.

“No.” You shake your head and make for the door but Steve rounds you and plants himself in front of you.

“All I want is for you to call my name.” He pleads.

“No. I won’t do it.” You shrug, turning the opposite way to move towards the corner of his office still hidden from view—Maggie’s corner.

“Do you need me to beg?” He checks, then suddenly, drops to his knees. “I can beg.”

“What are you doing?!” You gasp.

“Is this what you want? A King on his knees?”

“Your Majesty, please, get up.” You gasp.

“No, not until you say my name.”

“Get up.” You tug on his shirt.

His hands are on your waist, eyes staring up at you as you try to turn away from him. He grabs you tighter, forcing you to face him.

“Never.” He threatens

“This isn’t going to work!” You try, setting your jaw so that he doesn’t know how flustered having him down on his knees is making you.

“Then I will simply have to stay as I am. Forever begging, at the mercy of my Queen.”

“Your Majesty-”

“My subjects will see me and wonder why their king is so desperate and broken.”

“Your Maj-”

He slides on his knees as you move, twisting and turning to try and put some distance between you.

“Please?” He begs. “Please say my name. Just once. Please?”

“Will you let me by?” You plead, knowing he’ll never stop.

“My wife refuses to call my name. She doesn’t trust me!” He says loudly.

“Would you be quiet?” You hiss.

He buries his face against your stomach, kissing the small bump then trailing up and stopping just below your breasts.

Throwing his head back, he turns towards the door as his hands take a firmer grip on your hips, fingers digging in just deep enough to keep you rooted.

“This is torture!” He shouts towards the door. “Y/N doesn’t love me! My flower loathes me! She will not call my name. I will die never having heard her sweet lips speak-”

“Gods help me,” You grumble, “Steve please, please stop shouting!”

Your throaty grumble is low so that only he can hear you, but he whips his head around to look at you, an awestruck look making your heart hammer in your chest. Nervous, you bite your lip.

You haven’t tried saying his name since your wedding night and with this utterance comes a flurry of memories that you wish you could forget.

Reaching down you take hold of his hands.

You had been about to push them away, but he changes his hands so that he can intertwine your fingers together.

“Once more, my flower.” He pleads, and there’s a true yearning in his eyes.

“I’m scared.” You admit, having decided to be honest with him, it means you’ll always be open.

“Of what, my love?” He pulls your left hand back up onto his shoulder and wraps his arm around your waist once more, pulling you closer so that your hips are resting against his chest.

“The last time I said your name…” You bite your lip.

Steve sighs, “I know. I wish I could do it all over again.”

He shakes his head and buries it once more into your stomach, his hands curling around the waist of your skirt.

“I know you do.” You begin, preparing yourself. “And I do forgive you, Steve.”

He stiffens, like he’s been stunned with cold water, but when he looks up at you, his eyes are warm. Blue fire dancing amongst the sea storm.

You lick your lips. “Steve.”

His eyes soften, his lips curl up, and he huffs out a small chuckle of relief.

“My sweet flower,” He coos up at you, his hands curling around your backside.

The pure joy he exudes eases your worry. You find yourself smiling too. Softly. Shyly. His mood is infectious, and you wonder if maybe that’s why the two of you couldn’t make progress in the beginning.

All his resistance and frustration, all the rejection and anger, it had all seeped into you too. With him here, on his knees, embracing you, loving you. It’s easy to give in and follow where your heart wants to lead.

“My King.” You caress his face. “Steve…”

There’s a flash of something behind his eyes. Excitement? Then his arms are around you, tight and secure as he spins you around and drags you onto the floor.

You scream in surprise, but the cage of his arms shield you from any harm as he lays you on your back, using one hand to support your head.

The two of you chuckle foolishly, wrapped up in each other in perfect unison for the first time since you married.

As he settles over you, all heat and flexing muscle, he melts over you, curling his body to yours as your body shakes with easy laughter.

“I love you.” He whispers, making your heart flutter. “Have I told you that today?”

As he tucks your hair back, you shut one eye, pretending to think. “You may have mentioned something like that this morning.”

“Last night, you mean. It was so early.” He complains, remembering your sleepy farewell.

“Yes.” You agree. “I liked you in my bed.”

This admission makes your neck and cheeks burn, your fingers tingle.

Steve smirks. “We should go somewhere.”

“Like to visit my parents?” You wonder stupidly.

“No. Together, as in, just the two of us. We’ve spent so little time together alone and the time isn’t exactly right but with what we do, the time will never be perfect. We made no wedding journey and there’s a cottage I’d like to show you. Our cottage. Somewhere that I’ve never taken anyone.” He leans to his right, resting more of his weight on his forearm so that he can look down at you in comfort.

“Not even Maggie?” You wonder.

“No.” He pinches your cheek gently. “Not even Maggie. She opted not to take a wedding journey because we were very busy with Hydra at the time and then we never revisited the idea.”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, truly sad for him but Steve shakes his head.

“It’s who she was. The work was most important. As it was for me too before I lost her. Now, I want to appreciate the woman I love. My wife. And our child.” He leans down to press a slow kiss to your lips, just a languid peck, with an audible smack as he pulls away. “Now I know better.”

You’re slightly dazed from the press of his lips and he does it again, probably enjoying the haze his kiss visibly gives you.

“Now I’m going to make each day count. Hydra will probably always be there, and if not Hydra then someone else. I’m going to cherish our family as much as I can. So, will you come with me? Will you let me take you to my special place?”

What kind of place would be so special to him that he would take no one to it? Not even Maggie? Honestly, you cannot wait to find out.

“Yes.” You nod. “Wherever you walk, Steve, I will follow.”

As his name slips from your lips once more, he growls lightly, and lunges towards you to devour your lips.