Into the Unknown || A Captain America Love Story

32

Tori

"Welcome back," Tony calls from the living room.
I sit in between him and Steve, watching Natasha, Clint, and Bruce walk from the elevator. Once they see me, they stare at me in disbelief.
"Oh my god!" Natasha shouts.
She rushes over to me, engulfing me into an embrace. I laugh softly, trying to wriggle my injured shoulder from her arms.
"Where have you been?" Natasha spits, a smile still on her face.
"Asgard," Tony answers for me.
"Asgard?" the three ask in unison.
"Long story that I will explain later," I say with a wave of my hand. "Now, how was the mission?"
"Who cares?" Clint exclaims. "You're home!"
Before Bruce and Clint can even take one step towards me, Steve speaks up.
"Be careful," he shouts. "She was shot in her right shoulder."
"What?" they ask.
"You heard me," Steve replies in his serious Captain America tone.
Clint and Bruce hug me, careful to not touch my right shoulder. I catch Steve and Bruce exchange joyful glances, Tony soon joining them.
"How long have you been home?" Natasha questions me, snapping me out of my trance.
"About a week now," I ponder.
"What?" she asks. "And we weren't even informed?"
"Everyone is now," I grin awkwardly.
"We need to celebrate!" Clint booms.
     Tony rushes to him, a sly grin plastered on his lips. They begin to converse about drinks and people to invite to their little "Welcome Back From Asgard, Which You Didn't Tell Anyone About" party. Soon enough, Natasha and Bruce join the conversation.
     I feel a comforting hand wrap around my own, trying to grab my attention. I look up to Steve's small smile and uncomfortable eyes. I roll my eyes and giggle as I drag him into my bedroom.
     Everything is in its place, as it was when I moved. The bed, empty dresser, and even candles are all here. Tony insisted on keeping everything for emergencies.
     And not a romantic emergency, get your mind out of the gutter.
     I flop on the bed, heaving a large sigh of relief. I hear Steve laugh as he sits next to me. He examines the room, his smile fading away and then coming back.
     "Remember when I first slept with you in here?" he asks me softly.
     "Of course," I reply. "And do you remember when you've told me stories here?"
     "Yeah," he laughs. "And when we said 'I love you' for the first time outside."
"It's so crazy how close we've become in these six months."
"Not even," he laughs.
     We sit in the silence, looking over everything in the room. My smile fades when my eyes stop at the window. Soon enough, Steve does the same.
     "I was so terrified," he whispers, knowing what I am thinking about. "I didn't know where you were or when you left."
     "I wasn't," I mumble. "I just was scared when Harris told me his plans."
     "What were they anyway?"
     "H-He was using me to get to you," I say. "More specifically, to get to your blood."
     "The serum," he says. "That's why."
     "Yeah,"
     "Speaking of memories," Steve says, changing the subject. "Now every time that I'm in the living room, I think of us making out."
     I snort and shake my head. "Hey, a dare's a dare."
     "You know, it wasn't half bad,"
     I gasp. "Take that back."
     "What?" he giggles.
     "You know that I did a pretty good job."
     "That's why I want to do it again,"
     Steve takes my face in his hands as his lips crash against mine. I rake my fingers through his hair and kiss back. Soon enough, my right hand slides down his neck, his back, his chest, and even lower. His hand finds the small of my back and pulls me closer to him. Our chests collide and I let a small moan escape through my parted lips. We separate every few seconds for air, but we don't stop other than that. By now, I'm practically on top of him. I sit in his lap, inching closer to him by the second.
     Okay, so maybe the bed is for romantic emergencies.
     I feel his tongue explore my mouth, trying to find every possible thing it can. I grab fistfuls of his hair, begging for more. His fingers begin to slip my black tank top's strap off of my shoulder, but he immediately puts it back. We pull away and he looks away shyly.
     Of course he does when I'm yearning for more.
     "Sorry," he laughs nervously, lust clouding his blue eyes. "I don't know what I was thinking."
     I giggle. "Sorry for what?"
     "Starting to... you know."
     Quite a few months ago now, Steve and I very awkwardly discussed fonduing. We both swore to wait until marriage, but I have a feeling that we'll try many times and stop ourselves.
     "But I don't feel sorry about making out with you," he smirks shamelessly, pointing a finger at me. "Especially considering the fact that you forced me to last time."
     "Well," I reply. "Are you proud of yourself, Captain?"
     "Oh yes, very."
     "Not so innocent, huh?"
     "I guess not," he says. "You're a Stark, so I can't say the same for you."
     "You did not just say that."