A/N: This was requested by BuckysGirl42 a while ago! Hope you like it! Thank you everyone for 16K reads!
Words: 3.5K
The lights of a shimmery, shiny Tokyo blind the tired eyes of crowded cab car of Avengers. The most awake, excited of them all is the youngest—the one called Ambrosia. She's in disguise, like the others, wearing a dark colored jacket and a hat atop her head. Her pretty chestnut curls are tucked away beneath the cap, but the smell of her shampoo is still tangible in the stuffy, dusty cab. She leans over the laps of the bodies on either side of her to try and get a better view of what's going on outside the window. Her hands, small and green fingered, push on the knees of Steve and Bucky as she darts from side to side to peer at the view. The buildings themselves aren't what she finds most exciting. It's the big, bold lettered signs she can't read and the strange looking license plates of all the tiny cars that putter past. At this point Hazel can hardly remember where it is that this green cab is taking them. She's more involved with badgering Bucky to translate all of the signs she sees.
"What about that one? What does that say?"
"It's a dry cleaner." Bucky barely peeks an eye open before closing them again. He keeps trying to nap but the excited Hazel is disturbing him. He grunts unhappily as she clambers across his lap to try and get a better view as they near the biggest intersection she's ever seen.
"Oh my god! Are you guys seeing this?" Her voice is pure awe that has Steve's heart fluttering at how adorable she is. Her baby blue eyes are big as she stares wistfully at the city sights.
"Trying not to," Bucky replies. Steve reaches over to knock his friend in the arm for being rude. Bucky only rolls his eyes and tries, again, to sleep.
Nat's in the front seat with the selectively mute driver. She argues with him occasionally in Japanese about the quickest route to their destination.
"You could've given me the window seat," Hazel sighs.
"I get car sick," Bucky argues.
"No you don't," Steve calls Bucky out on the lie. Steve then taps on Hazel's knee to gather her attention. "Come look out mine, Sunshine. He's grumpy: just ignore him."
Hazel smiles over at Steve excitedly. She shuffles over—leaning across Steve's body so that she can get a proper view. He moves his arms out of her way, unsure of where to set them at first, before settling one of his open palms on the small of her back. When she doesn't seem bothered by this he relaxes into the motion of lightly brushing his thumb along the fabric of her thick sweatshirt.
It's the first big-mission trip for Hazel, more commonly known to the world as Ambrosia these days. The last big ordeal she'd been involved with had been that animal-robot fight in New Orleans. Now, a small collection of the heroes have been called to Tokyo. Steve added Hazel's name to the invitation list after seeing how well she's been adjusting to the pace and tempo of the group. She's amazing, he thinks, and he's afraid that it's more than just a workplace companionship attachment that he has growing towards her.
"This is so exciting," Hazel breathes.
Bucky grunts, "It wears off."
She huffs, "Maybe for you, old grump." She begins to smile again as the cab turns down an even busier, brighter street. People are everywhere wearing all sorts of colors and patterns that give her a welcomed headache.
Steve would've usually agreed with Bucky that the excitement of these things—travelling places unseen—grows old. But now, seeing it through Hazel's optimistic eyes, he has to admit that there's more beauty to it than he's been aware of in recent days. Even when they were in New Orleans a few weeks ago she'd managed to make him hyper aware of the small things: like the kids playing hopscotch on the corner outside of their safe-house and the smell of fresh seafood in the air.
The cab drives past a strip of storefronts, one of which being a hand-painted porcelain doll store with glass ornaments being displayed in the windows. Steve finds himself glancing away from the fast-moving scenery to Hazel's smiling face for a moment. She chooses this exact moment to look up at him, too. The two find themselves sharing a quiet, relatively awkward staring exchange for a good few heartbeats. It's not until the driver slams on his breaks at an unnoticed red light do the two break away—Hazel nearly flying off her seat since she'd unbuckled her belt to look out the window properly. Steve's arm, thankfully, had snaked around her waist tight and fast enough to keep her safely in place.
Nat screams profanities as the driver in the local language. He waves his hand at her outburst. Whatever is said, it's not good. Nat turns her head back to the group—blond hair flipping around. "Get out, guys. We're walking from here." Her quick temper and impatience for incompetence result in all four of you standing on the side of the road with your backpacks and a cabbie angrily tearing away.
"Well, that was fun while it lasted." Bucky sniffles his nose and glances around the street. He and Steve are at least a whole foot taller than everyone else in the near vicinity.
"Where are we going?" Hazel asks. She looks to Nat for instruction.
Nat pulls out her phone. "A museum."
"Oh I love museums," Hazel says with a grin.
"Don't get too excited, darlin'." Bucky picks at his teeth with a toothpick. "We're stealing shit."
Hazel's face falls. "Well that's... unexpected." She glances up at Steve. "What's the point of having us all here?"
"They'll do the stealing. You and I are going to be backup and distraction," Steve explains. He pulls out his phone as if meaning to show Hazel something on the screen. "This is what we're taking." His choice of words is endearingly adorable to Hazel: instead of stealing, he chooses "taking".
"It looks like a brick," Hazel comments. She angles the phone to get a better view. "What language is that on the side? Latin?"
"Close," Steve replies. "Norse."
"So it's Asgardian," Hazel realizes. "Do they know?"
"Not really," Nat says. She steps out of the way of a woman and a baby carriage before going on. "It's on their new artifact display. The in-depth research isn't supposed to happen until next week."
"Has anyone asked Thor what it is?"
"No one can get a hold of him. He refuses to use a phone," Nat says. She's google mapping the museum now.
"And he never answers his damn email," Bucky grumbles.
Nat goes on, "Whatever it is, it's gotta have some sort of alien-tech in it. Its radiation properties are higher than they should be. Who the hell knows what could come out of the damn thing if it gets cracked open?"
"So," Hazel goes, "We get in, take the brick, and get the hell out."
Steve nods. "Exactly."
"What's the getaway plan?"
"Probably steal a car," Bucky comments. Hazel glares at him and he only shrugs.
"You three are more morally compromised than the world knows," Hazel sarcastically quips. "Alright, if stealing a brick is what HQ needs us to do, I'm all in." She claps her hands together with a grin.
...
"There it is."
Hazel saddles up to Steve's side in front of the elaborate brick display. The brick itself is about three feet wide and only a few inches deep. It's dark brown stone with some sort of Norse etching on the outside. It's too faded and old to properly see. Disinterested people pass over the display for more exciting things. Steve and Hazel try not to linger too long in front of it as to draw any sort of suspicion.
"Not as interesting looking as I expected it to be," Hazel admits with a shrug. She glances around them discreetly. A security guard lingers in the corner. He's eating a soft pretzel and keeps dropping clumps of rock salt onto the once clean floor. "Are they sure they've got this?"
"Very," Steve replies. "We're not supposed to intervene unless they ask us to. We don't need to do anything except keep everyone in this room busy." He glances around unsurely. His glancing properly halts when he feels Hazel's fingers stretch between his. He looks down at her with widened eyes. She plays it coy by pretending to admire the paintings around the walls of the large room.
"Shouldn't be too hard," Hazel says. She smiles sweetly as a small child skitters past and a mother chases close behind. "No offense, Steve, but you don't really blend into a crowd."
"Well, neither do you." He walks them, hand in hand, to another display case. He doesn't question the fact that she's still holding onto his hand. He assumes it's part of the cover, but he doesn't want that to be the truth. She looks so pretty in the tight black pencil skirt and long, tan petticoat. The blonde wig she wears isn't as pretty as her natural hair, but she somehow still manages to look like herself through the clunky spectacles and long frizzy hair. She's wearing leather gloves to try and hide her green pigmented fingers. Steve's wearing a green turtleneck and tight black jeans. He's never been so uncomfortable in an outfit in his entire life. He's lucky not be in a wig, though. The beard on his chin does enough hiding of his most memorable features. The duo is unrecognizable in their attire as they play pretend.
"I hope you meant that in a good way," Hazel jokes with a light laugh.
"I did," Steve answers seriously. He looks down at her then with a shimmer in his eyes that's suddenly reflected in the bright color of hers...
"Guys, we're ready for that distraction."
The sound of Bucky's voice in their ears is enough to startle the two into breaking their second dazed stare-down of the day.
"Okay," Steve replies—almost sounding flustered. He hopes the radio earpiece doesn't catch onto the odd tone. He gives Hazel a look as if to say, what the hell are we going to do?
Hazel nods. She looks down at the ground, seeming to notice something new. "Oh, I think my shoe is untied."
Steve, without thinking, kneels. "I got it." He keeps a firm yet gentle hold on her hand while lowering to the ground...
"Oh... my... god!"
The sound of Hazel squealing in pure surprise has Steve's jaw dropping wide. He looks up, wide eyed and confused, to see her wearing a grin the size and brightness of the sun. It's not until he realizes the eyes of the other museum goers have darted to Steve as well that he realizes he's in the position he is: kneeling on one knee, in front of a woman, with her hand in his.
Hazel stares at him expectantly. She's a damn good little actress, Steve thinks with a sort of proudness. She looks startled and tickled as she bites down on her plump bottom lip. "Chris are... Are you being serious right now?!" She begins giggling hysterically.
Steve swallows stiffly. Smart girl, he thinks. She's also smart enough to know he would've actively tried to avoid this plan, even if it was a shoe-in to work. He hates being put on the spot like this.
But it's already begun, so there's no going back now.
"Rachael," Steve begins in a shaky voice, "I know it's only been a few months that we've known each other..."
"Chris, baby, you gotta be kiddin' me!" Hazel's loud, over-the-top fake Brooklyn accent has Steve choking on laughter. It's doing a damn good job at drawing in the rest of the eyes in the room. Everyone's turning to watch the suddenly romantic scene.
"I'm not," Steve replies. He holds onto her hand with both of his. "I love you," he admits. He smiles up at her as tears—convincing and startling—appear in Hazel's eyes. "I love you so, so much..." In the background he hears someone hollering in Japanese. It must be a guard noticing something awry. He carries on anyway, "I fell in love with you the moment I met you." He begins to panic on what to say, so he starts speaking without thinking at all. "Since the moment you came into my life I've learned what it feels like to truly be happy. I never thought that someone so pure, so sweet, and so genuine could exist. I know we have our differences—I know we're not perfect. I know that we might not know each other as well as we could, but I want to change that. I want to keep falling in love with you every day for the rest of my life, because I know you're worth it." Steve smiles up at Hazel dreamily as a few camera flashes go off from either side. "Rachael, will you please make me the happiest man alive and be my bride?"
Hazel nods her head enthusiastically. Tears stream down both of her rouge-patted cheeks. "Yes! Yes, yes: a thousand times yes." Then, through her giddy laughter, Hazel grabs Steve by the sides of his face. She pulls him up higher on his feet so that their lips can meet in the air between their bodies. The moment the kiss begins Steve's forgotten why it is that they're kissing. All he's aware of is the taste of her peppermint tongue and the fluttery, jittery tumble in the deepest part of his belly. There's the distant sound of applause ringing around the round. It's vague and cloudy in their ears through the kiss.
A shrill alarm pierces the serenity of the once joyous room. Japanese officers scramble into the scene and the gathered groups of tourists scram to run from the suddenly hectic scene. Red lights spin round and round while guards go dashing in a dozen different directions. Left at the center of the room is an empty pedestal where a mystery Norse artifact sat just moments ago.
Steve takes Hazel by the hand and the two dash from the room on hurried feet. When Hazel finds herself lagging behind Steve's faster speed she curses his name and he nearly laughs—turning back to pick her up by the waist and take her the rest of the way. The duo look clinically insane as they giggle and manage to make it out of the museum in just enough time for the local police officers to arrive and the windows bar and lock.
Halfway down the street Hazel's let back onto her feet. Steve tugs her against him into the nearest open door. It just so happens to be a flower shop that they stumble into. The flowers on the shelves seem to perk up at Ambrosia's entrance. From the windows they watch as more cop cars fly by in the direction of the museum.
Hazel's breathless. She digs into her pocket as her phone vibrates with a low volume ring. "It's from Nat," she says aloud. Steve peers over her shoulder to read, Omori Tokyu. "What the hell does that mean?" Hazel asks.
"It's a hotel," Steve answers. He sounds a lot more in shape than the panting Hazel does. He's hardly out of breath. His cheeks are slightly pinker than normal, but it's almost impossible to tell through the beard. The blushing isn't exactly from the running, though. "They must have it."
"We did it?" Hazel tries to hold back her grin until Steve verifies her request.
Steve chuckles. "We did it, doll."
The woman laughs—throwing her arms around Steve's neck. He chuckles, letting her hug him in celebration, and gingerly returns the embrace. It's noticeable now that the flowers around them seem to be almost shivering with excitement at the entrance of the fauna-fairy. The greenery grows with her excitement.
"Let's head that way," Steve says.
Hazel nods. As the two step onto the street she sheds herself of the wig and gloves—tossing both into the nearest trash. The glasses are gone too when she says to Steve, "Sorry if I threw you off back there. I should've probably run that by you first, but by the time I thought of it there wasn't enough time."
"No, no. I understand." Steve shoots her a quick smile. They walk side-by-side in the direction of the nearest subway. "You were amazing."
Hazel gently smacks his arm. "So were you! I can't believe how you came up with that whole proposal speech on the spot like that." She's forced to stop at a crosswalk as the light switches from green to red without her noticing. Steve's the one who stops her from stepping into traffic by grabbing onto her hand protectively.
"Well," Steve chuckles nervously, "I, uh, I was feeling inspired, I guess."
"Inspired?" Hazel looks up at Steve with a raised brow.
Steve's mouth is suddenly dry. "You know," he hurries to come up with something believable, "The art and... history... they really, uh, inspired me."
Hazel seems unconvinced. Thankfully she quickly becomes distracted when the crosswalk light flips back to green and the gathered crowd gets to journey to the other side of the street.
"Oh, look at that."
Steve's stopped alongside Hazel in front of an entrance to a beautifully lit serene garden scene. Tucked away from traffic, the pond and cherry blossom trees are blooming with colorful life in the world of grey and motorized things.
"Let's take a quick detour," Hazel suggests sternly. Steve's near protest before finding himself being willingly dragged along through the Japanese garden gates. He gives up on arguing quickly after seeing Hazel's beautiful smile sprout on her freckled face.
Hazel lets go of Steve's hand so that she can properly touch and feel every living plant-thing that she passes. They all grow and stretch out towards her—as if addicted to her presence in the same way Steve Rogers is. She smiles sweetly at a patch of clovers that rustle in the breeze. The moonlight's reflection in the pond has the same brilliant color as her eyes. They shine brighter as Hazel steps beneath a plum tree—fingers gracefully brushing the white blossoms until they bloom until fully developed, dark purple fruits.
He shakes his head upon finding himself staring after her longingly.
"Bucky likes these, doesn't he? We should take him back one," Hazel says. She holds one up for Steve to see. It's in this moment that she notices something rather strange stirring up in Steve's familiar blue eyes. The arm with the plum falls slowly to her side and she makes her way back to where her company stands on the water's edge. "Everything alright, Steve? If you're worried about meeting up with the others we can leave. I didn't mean to be a bother..."
"You're not a bother," Steve quickly assures her. He lets out a held breath and smiles faintly. "You're not a bother at all, Haze. Quite the opposite, in fact." Carefully he regards her face as he goes on to admit quietly, "You're the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to me."
Hazel's breath hitches halfway up her throat. "Me?" she repeats. She squeezes the plum in her hand until the sticky juice leaks out and beneath her fingernails.
"Yes," Steve laughs softly. "I just—I just wanted to tell you that." He looks awkwardly down to his booted feet. "You're something real special, Hazel. I want you to know that." His eyes return to their favorite place. Steve smiles a bit as he regards Hazel's pretty face in the Japanese autumn starlight. "I know I've told you that you're important to me, but I never really had the courage to tell you why. Not that I'm any braver today than I was yesterday, but I..." Steve breathily chuckles before resuming his speech, "You kissed me today and it became so much clearer."
"What did?" Hazel's anxious to know.
Steve swallows dryly. "That I'm falling in love with you."
Hazel smiles. "You are?" Her voice is quiet and nearly teasing. She steps closer to Steve.
Steve grins back—twice as wide. "I am." His eyes flicker from her eyes to her lips. He wants to kiss her again: for real, this time. But he won't do so until she tells him it's okay. "What do you think about that?"
"I think," Hazel slowly replies with a playful sentiment roaring behind her eyes, "I've felt the same way for a really long time."
When they kiss this time it's almost the same as before. Except this time, the two aren't playing any parts: even though they secretly hadn't been the whole time. Ambrosia cradles Captain America's face between her green fingered hands and he wraps both bulky, masculine arms around her waist to help lift her off of the grassy ground. She giggles into his lips and the flowers around them grow ten times higher—vines sprouting up out of the mud and tangling into messes of pretty patterns all around.
The newspapers will forever call him America's sweetheart, but for the rest of his life he'll only be concerned with being hers. And Ambrosia—the new gal in all green—will be sprouting life and healing lives, but the best life she's ever saved by far will be Steve Rogers'. It's when he falls in love with her that he really remembers what it is that he's spent his life fighting for.
He's her roots, her steady landing place, and the only family she's ever known.
She's his sunshine: his eternal life—his Ambrosia.