Time and Love (Steve Rogers)

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"What's this about?" Steve placed himself next to you, staring intently to your laptop screen.

"Writer's Block." you groaned, almost smashing your head to the keyboard.

"Wow there ma'am, don't go that far. It's just something...small right?" Steve chuckled, bringing his drink to his lips before gulping half of it down. Your glare intensified by the second, making him almost choke on his drink.

"How many times have I told to to call me by my first name, and no it's not, well for a writer it's not." you pouted crossing your arms. He always felt uncomfortable calling you by your first name.

"Nah, I'm okay with ma'am." he winked, cackling. You almost rolled your eyes off to somewhere else. This man is difficult sometimes.

"Okay, first of all I never invited you in my apartment, second of all who told you to get a drink from my fridge." you scolded. He put the drink on the coffee table, avoiding your intense eyes.

"Look old man, you're making my writer's block even worse." you grumbled. Steve showed a facial expression that you've never seen before, maybe offended?

"Who me? How?" he scoffed, straightening his posture. You laughed it off, staring back at the screen.

"So, I know you're not here to stare at me all day, what's up?" your gaze now upon the bulky man. His expression changed rather differently, like if he was nervous. The silence went on for several seconds before the door bell rang. You sighed already making your way to the door. You looked into the peep hole, only to see no one. Raising an eyebrow, you opened the door rather cautiously.

"Who is it?" Steve was now behind you. You shrugged, opening the door fully. A box on the ground caught your eye, you motioned to get it, Steve pulled you back and he grabbed it.

"Geez, it's not like its a bomb." you rolled your eyes once again. He ignored you, and closed the door before him. He silently made his way to where you both were previously seated, and placed the box on the small table.

"Grab a knife." he commanded.

"Excuse me, this was deliv-" before you can finish your sentence, he was looking at you sternly. You put your hands in the air, saying fine under your breath. You got the knife and handed it to him.

"I can seriously go back to my writer's block." you mumbled, lazily looking over Steve. He carefully cut through the box, and opened it. It appeared to be book.

"A book? Wow, the gods heard my prayers about my writer's block." You laughed. Steve pulled out the book and flipped through it.

"This is an old book, really old." Steve said in a low voice. You tilted your head in confusion

"What do you mean?" you questioned.

"I had this book back when I was in war." He shortly explained. He kept glancing throughout the small book.

"That's weird, why would they send it here. Plus, what's it about?" you sat beside him, rather interested to what's in the book.

"It's a book full of poems, and it was initially for people who want to get inspired to write." He glanced at you and your laptop. You nodded still confused, but processing at what he said.

"Who could've sent it?" you asked. He shrugged, giving you the book. You flipped through it also, finding a lot of great poems.

Time flies. The swift hours hurry by

And speed us on to untried ways;

New seasons ripen, perish, die,

And yet love stays.

- Ella Wheeler Wilcox, 1883.

You repeated the poem, a blush creeping on your cheeks as you look at Steve. He looked down nervously and smiled.

"Looks like this can relate to us." He chuckled grabbing your hands.

"I guess I wasn't the only one waiting." you smiled at him.

"Love is tricky sometimes." You agreed.

"Looks like I have something to write about now." You giggled. He kissed your forehead, ruffling your hair.

"You're the cutest." he mumbled.

~~~

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