Steve smirks amused watching RoSwell who is currently laying her top half over the hood of her new Jeep, eyes closed, smile on her face. Even like this she looks beautiful, peaceful and truly happy.
"I've never had my own car before" she whispers as Steve approaches her. His shoes echoing in the underground parking lot. She leans up and looks to him. He's dressed up, really dressed up. A black suit complete with tie and waistcoat. He looks incredible. And she feels under dressed. She brushes her hand over the skirt of her dress.
"You've not covered up" he points out, she nods a little and looks up at him.
"Someone told me that I didn't have to be ashamed of them" she offers back.
"Sounds like a very wise man" Steve offers back, a soft, proud smile on his lips, a crinkle to his eyes. It's cute on him. Actually is down right hot on him. He takes her hand and brushes his thumb over one of the scar lines. "You're still beautiful" he assures her, she blushes and looks down.
"You think I'm beautiful?" she asks him. He chuckles a little.
"Honey, I think everyone who looks at you sees it" he argues a little, she lifts her head to look up at him. "It's not just the way you look, not just your brown doe eyes or your red hair or how perfect your skin is" her blush starts to spread to her neck, no one has ever said anything like this to her before. "It's the way you laugh and the way you smile and the way you make people feel, it's the way you walk with this...bounce, the way you concentrate so hard on everything you work on, you give everything 100%, the way your nose wrinkles when you're reading or..." he stops and starts blushing himself, he clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck. "The way you make people say things they wouldn't normally admit to" he whispers a little. "I shouldn't have said that" he argues.
"Thank you" she offers, he looks back to her, tears gathering in her eyes. "No ones ever said anything like that about me before" she admits sadly.
"Really?" he asks her, amazed that someone has never pointed out the obvious to her.
"Yeah" she whispers a little. He squeezes her hand softly. Bucky wanders into the garage, his suit is more grey then black, and he wears a black glove over his metal hand.
"Do I have to wear this stupid thing?" Bucky grumbles tugging at the tie around his neck, he hates it, he hates the way it presses against his throat. He stops seeing Roswell, his eyes actually scan over her, the heels the tights, the dress, even that ugly necklace around her neck, she looks beautiful. Then his eyes find her left arm, to the five zagged scratches that run from her shoulder to the tips of her fingers.
"Buck" Steve warns slightly as Roswell grows uncomfortable under Bucky's eyes. But it's not pity in his eyes, it's something like pure rage. And Steve is worried he's about to have an episode. Thankfully Roswell has yet to see that side of Bucky. And this is the longest he's gone without the Winter Soldier coming out. But Steve's been expecting it. For something to set Bucky off. Bucky lifts his eyes from Roswell's scars. His face softening. No sign of the Winter Soldier. Steve relaxes a little and pats Bucky's shoulder.
"Here" Roswell reaches across and adjusts Bucky's tie slightly, giving him a little more room. "Try that" she offers warmly, he smiles.
"Thank you" he whispers, it already feels better, his throat less constricted. "You look" he starts and looks over her, she shifts slightly. "You look incredible" he finishes.
"Doesn't she" Steve agrees, Roswell blushes again and presses the back of her hand to her cheek, she's pretty sure she's actually on fire right now.
"Are you two ruining my hard work?" Natasha scolds approaching them, a soft smile on her lips as she pulls Roswell's hand from her face. "Don't hide, Sestra" she teases a little. The Sestra nickname had come about when Roswell and Natasha had gone shopping and an Avenger fan had asked Roswell if she was Natasha's sister. The Russian had laughed and told the fan that she wished she had a Sestra like Roswell. And the nickname stuck. Everyone else has their own nicknames for her too. Tony calls her Kid and Ariel, the twins and Peter call her Roz, Clint calls her Robin (After the red feathered bird), Rhodey calls her Sprinkles (on a count that he caught her eating ice cream with sprinkles, once, the name has now stuck). The only people that still use her name are Steve, Bucky, Wilson, Thor and Bruce. And Vision and FRIDAY call her Miss Winchester. She enjoys it. Dean and Sam called her Roz, and Dean occasionally called her Pommy, usually when she does something to annoy him, or tease him. She likes the new nicknames. Natasha then looks over the Jeep. "Nice" she teases and then knocks on the metal framework. "Ooo bullet proof" she teases, Roswell frowns.
"Really?" she asks disbelieving.
"Uncle Phil" Natasha teases. "Must be worried about you" Roswell shrugs a little touching the truck, she can't believe he did this for her.
.............
Dinner is quiet but fun, and it gathers a lot of attention from people around them. Mostly the Avengers rather then Roswell but she honestly doesn't mind, she likes watching her friends let loose, they let go of the tension of being the Avengers and just have fun. It's seeing them all in a whole new light. Even Bucky seems relaxed, even out in public, where there are more threats, but he knows that these guys have his back. Tony picked up the bill and called it her birthday present. She hugged him for it. Then came the dancing and the music and the bright lights and the dancing. And it was a lot of drinks and lots and lots of dancing, she's pretty sure she danced with each Avenger at least once. Even Bruce who was reluctant to join them after dinner. And before she knows it, the night is over, and she is walking, unsteadily back her apartment, wedged between Steve and Bucky who are literally the only things keeping her upright. As they near her apartment door Steve shoots Bucky a look and Bucky sighs a little before heading into their apartment first, leaving Steve alone with Roswell, who has propped herself up against the wall. Steve smiles a little watching her, even this, even a little bit unmade up, her hair is now messy, her make up smeared slightly, her shoes are somewhere back in the garage, even still she looks beautiful, he lifts her chin slightly and she squints up at him.
"Do you feel like you're goin' to be sick?" he asks her, she shakes her head against his fingers. "Are you sure?" she nods.
"'M tired" she mumbles a little.
"I bet" he teases lightly, she smiles warmly at him.
"Thank you" she offers. "For the dinner idea...." she elaborates. "Better then what I was gonna do" he brushes her hair back and smiles.
"You're welcome"
"Hmm" her eyes close a little and he watches her before relenting and deciding he should let her go to bed.
"Do you need help getting to bed?" he asks her, she smirks and opens an eye to look at him.
"Are you offering?" she purrs drunkenly, obviously trying to flirt, he chuckles a little as he blushes.
"Not when you are drunk" he argues helping her up off of the wall. Steve kisses Roswell's cheek and then pulls back. "Happy Birthday, Roswell" he offers warmly before heading into his apartment, Roswell is blushing and smiling like an idiot as she walks into her. Her heart is actually fluttering in her chest and her palms are sweaty. Why is it that Steve has her reacting like this? She closes her eyes and sets her head back against the door.
"Best birthday ever" she whispers to herself and smiles. Despite the fact that neither of her brothers are here to celebrate it with her, John isn't here, either of them, Constantine is terrible with remembering birthdays, so she doesn't think much of it, he always makes up for it when she does see him. Despite the lack of her real family, this has been her best birthday ever. And that's both good and sad at the same time. She smiles and shakes her head pushing away from the door.
......................
Roswell is half asleep when her cell phone rings on the bedside table. She rolls over and groans a little, the night of drinks swirling in her stomach. She grabs her cell phone and pulls it to her ear as she answers it.
"Yeah?" she asks.
"Hey, Pommy" Dean greets, Roswell frowns and sits up in bed.
"What's up, Dean?" she asks yawning.
"Well....I urm" he starts. "Happy Birthday" he offers, she scoffs and shakes her head.
"Uncle Phil called you didn't he?" she asks him.
"Yeah" he whispers. "I'm so sorry...I just...."
"It's fine" she argues. "I get it. The hunters life is busy"
"Yet you never forgot one of ours" he argues. "How many?" Dean asks her.
"Does it matter?" she asks him climbing out of bed.
"Yes, it matters" Dean argues, almost snapping at her, he's angry at himself though, not at her. "How many did we forget?" he asks her, Roswell looks down and fights tears. "Tell me" he begs.
"4" she answers. "The last one was...."
"When Dad let your drive" he answers. "I remember that one....I don't know what happened, Roz" he whispers. "I'll make it up to you"
"It's okay, De....today...it wasn't terrible" she assures him. "The Avengers took me into the city for dinner.....and I got a car from Uncle Phil"
"Doesn't make me feel better though" he argues. "I'll make it up to you" he repeats promising her. "It's just you and me now, we should be looking out for one another"
"Is that why you left?" she asks.
"Roz" he starts to warn. "I asked if you wanted to come with me. You are the one that told me to leave"
"Because I was upset and angry and I felt....you know John always made me feel like I was a part of this family" she admits. "He'd make me feel useful and wanted and needed and I really felt like he thought of me as his daughter....but you and Sam..." she shakes her head crying. "You and Sam dragged me around from motel to motel or you'd dump me at Bobby's. You know I went a whole year without seeing either of you, and Sam didn't even bother to tell me himself that you were dead, he just left me alone to grieve, I'm always on the sidelines, in the background, you never told me anything, it was always Bobby who sat me down and told me the truth....that's not family, Dean. I'm not a child, I've not been one since I was six years old, yet you treat me like this china doll. Fragile. Small"
"I..." Dean starts. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"
"Are you freaking kidding me?" she snaps. "Dean, I asked, a lot, for one of you to teach me something, to shoot, to fight, and I begged to be part of hunts, rather then sit in a motel worrying my ass off because I didn't know what was going on" she takes a breath. "All I wanted was to be your equal, but you never saw me that way"
"Because you're my baby sister" he whispers. "All I wanted to do was protect you"
"You smothered me" she argues. "With bubble wrap"
"Roswell" he whispers. "I had no idea"
"Why would you?" she asks.
"Please, let me try to make this right" Dean begs.
"How?" she asks.
"I don't know" he admits. "I'll think of something, okay? Just....I love you" he offers, she smiles a little and nods.
"Love you too, De" she whispers.
"I'll call you later" he promises.
"Kay" she whispers softly and then hangs up, she rubs at her eyes and sighs before rushing to the bathroom to throw up.
....................
Roswell wakes to someone setting a glass of water on her bedside table, it's louder in her mind because of the raging hangover she is currently suffering from. She groans and turns to face whoever it is.
"Go back to sleep" Steve scolds lightly, she scrunches up her nose and looks up at him.
"What time is it?" he clears his throat a little.
"5am" he answers, she groans. "I just wanted to make sure you had some water and some aspirin" he brushes a few strands of hair from her cheek.
"Hmmm thank you" she whispers.
"Go back to sleep" he repeats pulling the blanket around her. He turns and starts to leave.
"Hey, Steve" she calls as he reaches her bedroom door. He stops and looks to her.
"Yes, Roswell?" he asks softly.
"Will you stay?" she asks a little, almost to quiet for him to hear. "You can say no, I won't be mad" she mumbles rubbing her eyes. He looks to his watch and then back to Roswell, he smiles and nods.
"I can stay" he answers, she rolls over and pats the empty side of her bed. He kicks off his running shoes, leaving them neatly by the door before he walks over to the bed. He lays next to her and she shifts closer to him to curl into his side, resting her head on his chest, he smiles a little and strokes her hair which sends her back to sleep, her hand fisting into his shirt.