Frozen

The Party: Part III

Note; 18+ Content
Final Edit.

"I can't take complete credit for this," Steve explains, "Nat called me to ask if you were ready for the party and I commented you hadn't found a dress yet. Next thing I know she sends Jenny with these racks. How did she bring them up the stairs? I don't know.'

There are two full clothes racks full of sapphire color gowns in my living room.

"Damn, you are telling me I could have met Jenny? I thought she would have followed Fury to Europe."

"She works freelance now I guess." Steve shrugs his shoulders.

I am so afraid to touch the beautiful garments. The fabrics looks so delicate; from satin, silk, tulle, and lace. Some with fuller skirts, others form-fitting and revealing.

"I wouldn't know where to start," I muse out loud.

"I might be bias, but I am sure any will look great on you." He kisses my cheek and goes over to the kitchen, as if I have any ingredients to make anything decent.

"I think I will try them on tomorrow, when I am not as tired and properly showered."

I enjoy the sight of Steve Rogers in grey sweatpants and nothing else.

"Should we go grocery shopping? There is nothing to eat, which is not okay, you should always have at least apples around." He frowns at me.

I come over and hug him from behind.

"Tomorrow, okay? I just want to cuddle and watch TV with you tonight." I plant a trail of kisses between his shoulder blades.

And so we do just that.

It's close to midnight when we finally get in bed, Steve settles against the headboard, and I nestle my body between his chest and his arm, just in the right position for me to be able to read comfortably while his fingers brush through my hair.

"Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche, escribir por ejemplo, la noche está estrellada, y titiran azules, los astros, a lo lejos." I read from my Pablo Neruda's Veinte Poemas De Amor. "I can write the saddest verdes tonight, write, for example, the night is full of starlight, and blue tickles the cosmos in the distance."

Steve kisses the top of my head. I am enveloped in his body heat, all I smell is his scent; shaving cream, fresh eucalyptus, and mint.

"En noches como esta la tuve entre mis brazos, la bese tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito. In nights like this I had her in between my arms, I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky."

"This poem is very sad." Steve whispers, I am not sure if to himself or to me.

"It is. And yet it is my favorite poem of his." I answer either way.

"Why?"

There is something about his voice this late at night, when we are alone and quiet, when he is just for me and no one else.

"You will see." I tell him, and holding his hand in mine and the book on my other, I continue with the poem. "Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero. Es tan corto el amor y es tan largo el olvido. I don't love her, is true, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, and forgetting is so long."

I turn my head to the side to look up at his eyes.

"There is some kind of sad beauty in this poem I can't describe. Longing, melancholy, and a love so infinite..."

His eyes wander away from mine, he has gone far away from me. I turn back to the book and finish the rest of the poem, this time I have an odd feeling in my chest. Where does his mind go, if I am right here?