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wonderfreakingwoman · 6 years

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So this is my @wondertrevnet secret Santa gift for @let-zygons-be-bygones. I hope you had an amazing Christmas/holiday, and wishing you a very happy and healthy 2019!

18:03. The last work email has been sent and the holidays can officially begin.

She packs away her laptop, puts her coat on, and turns the lights off in her office for the last time this year. The keys rattle against each other as she locks up, and the undisturbed sound of her heels hitting the marble floor as she makes her way through the tall hallway is an indication that she is one of the last to leave the museum.

The warm glow from the Louvre welcomes her as she steps out into the cold Parisian air. Traffic is normal for the city, but it’s quiet out. The courtyard is without crowds of tourists, with the exception of the occasional passer-by, and it’s not until she rounds the corner onto a main street that she begins to pass the last-minute shoppers and those heading home for the night.

Before she joins the rush-hour crowd, she makes her way to one of her favourite patisseries. Each couple she spots makes her walk that little bit faster, reminding her of what waits for her at home.

She picks up a box of macarons and a raspberry tartelette from the owner’s daughter who always makes sure to leave one aside for her every Friday. She asks how the girl’s mother and sister are doing, and how her course is going, quickly learning about a class Christmas party that’s happening in one of the local bars tonight to celebrate the end of her exams.

“And is the Paul I hear so much about going to be there?”

“Incroyable,” she hears the girl swear under her breath as a small blush covers her cheeks, “my mother and her loose lips.” They both laugh.

“She means well.”

“I know. She keeps asking me when she’ll get to meet him, as if we’re together or something,” she tells her as she rings her up on the till. “Although, he’s not the only man she keeps asking about.”

“Oh?”

“She’s starting to miss that charming Captain of yours. Told me to stop selling you his favourite dessert so that he’d have to come in himself to get it.”

“I’ll tell him you said that.” She can’t help but laugh at the idea.

They say goodnight and it’s not long before she’s stepping into the elevator to the apartment with the bag of delicious pastries in hand.

As she clears the entrance to her- their- apartment, she has to remind herself, her eyes find him in the kitchen, his back to her as he wipes his fingers on the towel hanging over his shoulder. He mustn’t have heard her come in over the music playing through the speakers, and it makes her smile at the image of him humming along as he prepared dinner for them, taking a sip of red while he worked.

“Smells delicious in here.” She says as she walks to the open kitchen, setting the desserts from the bakery on the counter and greets him with a kiss.

“Let’s hope it tastes just as good.”

Ever since their trip to Italy towards the end of summer he’s been trying to recreate their favourite meals, and by the looks of it it’s one of his tonight, the fettuccine al pomodoro. The only reason she knows that’s it is because he near damn fell in love with it when they did a cooking class in Bologna and ordered it two nights in a row afterwards.

He grabs her a wine glass from the cabinet and pours her one to join him, handing it to her.

“Thank you.” She lifts the glass to her lips and takes a sip.

“May I?” she asks, grabbing a hold of the spoon with her free hand to taste the tomato sauce simmering in the pot. She must admit that she took quite the liking to pasta herself after travelling the country, and at this stage he’s done an impressive job at making the recipes from scratch.

She turns around to ask him if any of the league members had gotten back to him about getting together over the holidays when she finds him holding the tart and a bite taken out of it.

“Mmmm,” he moans around a mouthful of raspberry and filling.

“How you can eat that before dinner, I’ll never understand.”

“There’s fruit on it. Think of it as an appetiser.” He takes another giant bite, practically devouring the tart.

She sets her wine glass down on the kitchen counter next to her, smiling at the small mess left on his face and steps closer to him. “That’s not how it works.”

He wraps an arm around her waist as she does, “People have fruit salads sometimes before dinner. Who’s to say these things aren’t just a fancier, more delicious version of that.” He says as she gently wipes away the bit of powdered sugar on his nose and cheek with her thumb.

“Nice try.” She kisses the corner of his mouth, getting a taste of the sweet cream filling and a hint of raspberry. He wasn’t wrong about it tasting delicious.

He quickly chases her lips before she pulls away, kissing her twice before he straightens, a small smile on his face as his eyes meet hers. “I don’t think I’d forgive myself if I ate two desserts after dinner, so by spreading it out it doesn’t feel so bad.”

“Bold of you to assume I was going to share.”

“I’m sure I could convince you somehow.” He wiggles his hips against hers playfully when he sees her begin to smile at him.

He was right in saying that she couldn’t say no to him. After dinner they moved over to the couch, setting their glasses on the small table in front of them and the box of macarons between them. They half-paid attention to whatever was on tv as they nibbled on the pastries, talking about making plans to return to the States to celebrate Arthur’s birthday at the end of January, and an upcoming fundraising ball for her work in Paris before that, to less extravagant things like what they were going to do tomorrow.

As they’re cleaning up their small mess, readying to call it a night, the empty macaron box reminds her to tell Steve what the baker’s daughter had said to her earlier on her way home.

“I found out I have some competition this evening.” She lifts her brow as her eyes light up with humour, the corners of her mouth beginning to turn up when she meets his gaze.

“Oh really? What for?”

“Mrs Barteau’s daughter, Pauline, told me she’s not allowed to sell me anymore tarts until they see you in the flesh. Seems her mother misses a certain charming American.” She tells him as she walks over to the bin, the sound of his laughter loud enough to be heard across the room.

“Maybe I need to start going someplace else,” her head tilts to the side, smiling at him as she turns back and leans against the edge of the counter to wait for him.

“Maybe.”

She watches his free hand scratch at the stubble along his jawline as he walks over, while the other holds the two empty glasses. She likes the scruff on him, missed it on him. It suits him well. He’s been talking about growing it out, so it’ll be interesting to see what that feels like when he’s-.

“Call me crazy but I don’t think Amandine’s sudden interest in art restoration is to impress me.”

He’s caught Pauline’s older sister throwing in an extra few macarons for Diana whenever they’ve stopped by the shop, or the quick up and down glances when she thinks no one’s watching. He’s pretty confident Diana knows this, but he can’t be sure since she doesn’t act any different towards her than that of her sister.

“I’ve no idea what you’re referring to.” She tries to act indifferent, but her eyes give her away. He doesn’t need to borrow the lasso of Hestia to know she’s lying. She knows exactly what he means, and that makes him smile even more.

Neither say anything more about the matter, but left feeling awake from the light-heartedness of their conversation. She watches him quickly rinse the glasses in the sink across from her, how the muscles in his back move through the thin shirt material as he works.

It amazes her how often her mind wanders to him. She thinks about him when she’s at work, particularly when those meetings go on far longer than they should. She thinks about him at night when she can’t get to sleep, when the bed feels too big because he’s had to go away for work and the smell of him surrounds her when she wears one of his shirts. But it’s not just when they’re separated. He could be doing the most mundane thing in the world and she’d find herself thinking about all the different ways she loves this man.

Two days ago, they were brushing their teeth, his hair was wild from sleep, making him look almost boyish in his navy blue plaid pyjama pants and white t-shirt. It wasn’t hard to imagine what Steve was like a child once upon a time.

Before that she found him asleep on the couch with a book in his lap, his head resting on the top of the couch cushion. He had tried waiting up for her that night when the world called for Wonder Woman’s help, and when she returned she found the tv on one of the news stations, muted.

“Let’s go to bed, Love.” She whispered as she leaned over him from behind the couch, pushing his hair back from his face as he woke.

Before she could straighten, he pulled her down to him so he could press his lips against hers quickly, “Glad you’re home.”

“Me too.”

She pushes herself away from the kitchen counter, suddenly wanting to be close to him.

“Thank you for dinner, by the way. You’re too good to me.”

When he turns, she raises her hand to his cheek, the facial hair tickling her skin as she follows the strong line of his jaw with her fingers, just as he had moments ago. She feels his hand on her waist, his thumb playing with the bit of exposed skin on the same side her arm lifted.

“It’s my pleasure.” He says as he tucks a strand of hair that had escaped her loose bun behind her ear.

“Tomorrow, I want to cook for you. I’m also thinking we sleep-in in the morning.” It’s been a while since they’ve spent the day in bed, and she knows it’s one of his favourite things to do. He tries his best to convince her to stay a little longer every morning before work, but she rarely gives in, and because she wakes so early it doesn’t take much negotiating before he’s hugging her pillow to his chest and falling back asleep.

“I’ll hold you to that, you know.”

“I don’t doubt you will.”

A moment passes, and he glances at her lips. Before she knows what’s happening she can feel his hands slide down behind her legs through her leather pants and is she’s being lifted.

“Come on, let’s get to bed.” He tells her as he heads in the direction of their bedroom, and she can feel his breath on her neck from the sudden closeness. His stubble tickles her skin when he places a trail of kisses along the side of her neck, and it instantly reminds her of the other night.

He trailed his mouth down her chest, kissing every inch of skin as his hands roamed her body. He soon continued the same attention along her navel, over her hip, until his mouth is closing around her, working her up slowly and deliberately until she’s clutching the sheets and her body is arching off the mattress. The insides of her thighs were left feeling slightly sensitive the following morning but it was so damn worth it.

Desire licks her blood, warmth instantly spreading throughout her body at the memory. She trails a hand up through the ends of his hair at the base of his neck, unable to resist touching him more, and shifts against him to hug his waist with her legs for better leverage.

“Steve,” she says, her voice sounding low and breathless when his teeth graze over her pulse point and sucks on her skin.

She turns her face in search of his mouth and he kisses her. Her lips part against his and Steve wastes no time in deepening the kiss.

He pushes her back against the wall in the hallway that leads to their room, pausing momentarily to adjust his grip as he sets her down near the edge of the wooden table, and she can’t help but gasp against his mouth. She feels his hips push into her, and she digs her fingers into his shoulders.

The table could work, but maybe for another time, she thinks. Right now she wants to feel every inch of him against her.

“Bed,” she breathes against his mouth, and he immediately bends slightly to slide his hands back down her thighs and picks her up, wrapping her long legs around his waist once again.

Once they’re in their room, he lays her gently on the mattress and continues to kiss her. His hands slide underneath her jumper, caressing the soft skin until he makes his way around her sides, and up her back where he unclasps her bra. While he does that, she begins to work on his belt’s buckle and pulls it from around his waist where it eventually ends up on the floor.

He wants to take his time with her, to love her. For the next two weeks they will not be disturbed, they have no real obligations for the next few days, and the thought of having her all to himself reminds him to slow down.

Their kisses become less hungry and more tender, their touches turn softer and slower. Time is on their side, and unlike the first night they shared in Veld, they have plenty of it.

For one night, they could only enjoy the snow and each other before the war reared its ugly head at them and destroyed everything in its path. Now, a century later, they have everything to look forward to and can hide from the world as they get lost in each other.

#wondertrevsecretsanta #wondertrev #fanfiction #wtss18

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