The kitchen smells like overbaked blueberry muffins -- the boxed kind, because homemade still feels too vulnerable, like a promise she doesn’t know how to keep. She made them. Got up early. Swept the floor twice. Even opened a window so the place wouldn’t smell like weapons oil and whatever burnt out in the toaster three days ago.
Yelena tells herself it’s no big deal. Just Steve. Just the kid. Just family.
And still, when the knock comes - soft, two measured taps -her heart jerks like it’s running drills.
She wipes her hands on a towel and opens the door.
Steve’s there, exactly on time, with his son curled against his shoulder - golden curls mussed from a nap, one sock sliding off his foot, little hand clutching a plastic stegosaurus like it’s his security detail. She happily whisks the door open, welcoming them inside. As Steve strides, James stirs, blinking slowly, one arm flopping around Steve’s neck before he nestles back into the safety of his father’s shoulder.
"There's my little man, gimme gimme!" She begs, extending her arms with playful insistence.
▐║ ᯽ ┊ 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 that isn't soaked in the color of cosmic blood? She can't remember how long she was there, or why. She's spent months trying to unravel this tangled thread, following leads and the ghosts of a past she'd forgotten she lived, and none of it makes much sense. Anyone who could have given her answers is either dead or doesn't want to be found. That's just what happens when two decades of your life turn to dust in your memories. Her brain's still a mess, like she was ripped out of her body and put back crudely; not every wire reconnected where it should be, loose cogs rattling in the wrong place. Her previous lead was no good. Tony Stark, whoever he was, is dead. SHIELD is underground. She has one final hope, one last chance to tug this knot loose.
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤSteve Rogers, that's his name. Captain America, or is it another guy now? She found the wrong one last time. But no, this one is the right one. His face face evokes some static emotion as she watches him from her rooftop nest, though she can't really discern what it is. Familiarity, at least. She can work with that. It at least means that, if she's right, then they have met before. He might know something. But was he a friend or a foe? She was a foreign spy, after all; hard to imagine that America's defrosted golden boy would want much to do with a Russian asset, whether she managed to defect or not. That part is still fuzzy, too. And she doesn't like to take chances.
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤThe gun cocks at the pressure of her thumb. ❝ Don't try anything. Hands up, and turn around slowly. ❞ She knows to keep her distance, even with his back turned to her. Given his reputation, he could disarm her in a flash. And man, she doesn't want this to get ugly. All she wants is to talk. ❝ I'm not here to cause trouble. I just want a little cooperation, yeah? You tell me what I want to know, and I'll leave quietly. It can be as simple as that ── ❞ But she never anticipated the kid. That quiet voice that calls ❛ dad? ❜ as a tiny being peeks around the corner. Of all the intel she gathered on the guy before coming here, nothing ever said that he has a kid. Even more explicable is what she feels the more she looks at him. The same, untraceable sense of familiarity. A warmth that stirs, as if this is someone attached to such a feeling in the depths of what she's forgotten. But how could that be?
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤIn that moment, she does something she's rarely ever done in her life. She freezes. Her hand trembles slightly as she struggles to hold the gun up, her eyes drawn between father and son, her mind restlessly trying and failing to connect the missing piece between them all. It's there, like an absent word on the tip of her tongue, just beyond the bounds of her memory, and the world begins to feel fuzzy again as she struggles with her recollection. The gun lowers slightly, angled to the floor, and her non-dominant hand releases its steadying hold, coming to clutch at the side of her temple instead to quell a phantom pain. ❝ I don't understand, ❞ her head shakes, finally relinquishing the gun, placing it down on the kitchen table. ❝ Do I know you? ❞
Bucky , if he was being completely honest with himself , never thought he would ever be in this position either. Before the war , there would have been no chance for them to be able to experience going on a real date together. To go dancing together like a real couple. He'd always wanted it , to take Stevie out for a night on the town. ( dinner then dancing somewhere with a live band. ) There were a handful of times when he had managed to save up enough to take him to see a flick , but they were far and few between with feelings still hidden. Not anymore though. Bucky Barnes had spent too much time hiding in the shadows.
Sitting down at the booth in the pub/dancing club , Bucky leaned forward to catch what the blonde had said to him. That signature Barnes smirk curling at his lips. He was still reeling that Steve had said yes. That he was willing to come out here with him. There hadn't been a doubt that the shield wielding hero wanted the time with Bucky. But all the time spent having to keep that love he felt for Bucky a secret still pulled at the heartstrings that had managed to stay in tact , even after everything. All thanks to Steve.
This was for the both of them. They deserved just as much , didn't they. ❝ Me to. This place used t'be one uh th'places I used t'come dancing to. ❞ The live band was fairly loud. Which wasn't a problem , merely urging Bucky to move inward in the booth. Closer to Steve. Bucky had always wanted to take Steve to the original place. ( when he had been drafted he worried he would never get the chance. ) A worry that had revisited him before Steve had found him. Sitting her felt like a dream. ❝ It's live jazz t'night. Figured they'd be playin stuff we'd remember. ❞
HE ALWAYS SAW TOO MUCH GOOD IN HER. Conveniently seeing past the bad. ( past the parts that made her feel not human. ) She was always going to feel it. The disconnect between herself and the rest of the world. You are made of marble. The girl in her gone and molded into a weapon , nothing more.
Steve always saw the woman past all that.
It's never been easy for her to hear , ┈┈ often brushed off with a smirk or a slight scoff if she was feeling it. Most got a glare , or a witty comeback about how she's someone the darkest people in the world fear. ( it never really works with Steve though. ) She'll never understand why. She'll never understand how she deserves someone like him loving every part of her , ┈┈ seeing the side of her she always swore was long gone.
“ You always say something like that. ” Her voice breaks the silence , ┈┈ but a quietness still settled over the room. Subtle glow from the lamps lighting the space for them. “ Kinda feel like that describes you a little more though. ” She knew what she was. Was at peace with it.
▐║ 🐾 ┊ ❝ 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘. 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓, ❞ Felicia says as she takes Steve's hand, closing her apartment's front door behind them. She pushes up onto her toes, placing a quick kiss to his cheek before her other hand taps a digit playfully against the tip of his nose, ❝ Eyes closed, and no peeking until I tell you to open them. I worked pretty hard on this. ❞ And that, she did. Usually gift-giving isn't so difficult; it's not like she's lacking in funds to buy something nice and expensive. Maybe a fancy watch, or a record player. But it wouldn't feel quite right, just giving him something material and calling it a day like she might for anyone else. Because he's not just anyone else. Not to her.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤHer heart's racing as she leads Steve down the hall, guiding him around the furniture, constantly looking back to check if he's peeking or not. This might be too much. That's probably her biggest worry. That it's too much, or he won't like it. It's bigger than just a birthday gift; it's an invitation to step further into her life. Not quite moving in, not yet, but sharing space. And all the trust that comes with letting someone into your life like that. Terrifying as fuck, but it feels right. His own place is already like a second home to her; hell, she's sure her clothes have taken over half of the space in his closet by now. Steve's always been willing to let her in, to trust her with that part of his life, so maybe it's past time she does the same.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ❝ Just a few more steps, ❞ she says, turning the doorknob to what used to be a guest room, now completely repurposed. Felicia leads him to the center of the room, stopping just before a worktable with unopened art supplies stacked on top, a sketchbook laid in the center. The entire room is filled with similar stuff; an easel in the corner, paints on one side, pastels on the other, movable lamps for lighting. An entire room for art, and it's all his. ❝ Okay, you can open your eyes now. ❞ Felicia lets go of his hand, stepping back to merely observe Steve as he takes in the sight. ❝ I just figured you could use a quiet space for yourself, y'know? Tune out the world for a while when you need to. I see you draw all the time, but I wasn't sure what else you would like, so I just got . . . well, everything. It's all yours. ❞ A pause, silent for a moment, teeth biting nervously at the inside of her cheek. Then, quieter, she finally asks, ❝ Do you like it? ❞
“ WE KNEW THIS WAS GONNA GET THIS WAY SOMEDAY. ” Her voice was quiet , but not lacking the steel around every word. Practiced for decades now. Compartmentalize when needed , ┈┈ to avoid getting hurt later on. Those were the rules she had always lived by. ( she made the decision of thinking she could get complacent once before due to love. ) She wouldn't make the same mistake twice. Not with anyone , especially not with Steve.
Still , she had never been the type to turn back just because something got dangerous. She'd been hardened against fear for a long time , ┈┈ now here she was trying to convince herself she still wasn't afraid. She looked at him only when she could bury it all down in her typical shield she always wore over her heart. One that few had ever really been able to break down.
“ It's not enough to make me walk away though. ” She never would , ┈┈ by now life without him didn't feel right no matter how safe it was. Eyes locked with his , neck craned slightly to account for his size. “ I'm not goin anywhere Steve. Not now , not ever. ”
@cmdrcap ⊱ 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 & 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐄 *
1. one muse gives the other oral
▐║ 🐾 ┊ 𝐆𝐎𝐃, 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐈𝐓. The way it fits him, the blue shades that bring out his eyes, the commanding presence he always has when he puts it on. The material's rough to her touch, battle-worn, patched kevlar and a layer of scale protection, but her ungloved hand works its way beneath it all, roaming over the warm skin of Steve's lower stomach. Adrenaline from the day hasn't really worn off yet, or maybe there's something else making her run hot, but either way, now that they're finally alone again, she can't stand the distance anymore. ❝ I've always loved watching you work. ❞ Felicia climbs into his lap like she belongs there, her mouth drawn to his own like a magnet, as if she needs him to breathe. ❝ But it makes me want you so fucking bad , ❞ she mumbles, her tongue dragging upwards over his lips in a devious tease.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤA digit wraps through the ringed zipper that holds her own suit in place, pulling downwards until the leather separates, revealing most of her chest and the top of her abdomen for his viewing pleasure. Her other hand withdraws from under his suit, brushing lightly over the center of his pants, just enough that Steve can feel it. ❝ Let me help you unwind a little, baby. We can steal a few minutes for ourselves before they start to look for us. ❞ Felicia's touch becomes less tentative, more gluttonous in how it seeks the shape of him through his pants, teasing strokes until she feels him stiffen beneath her fingers. Her mouth trails across the line of his jaw, pressing against his ear with a purring whisper, ❝ Or an hour. ❞
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤShe kisses him again, there at the edge of his jaw, then his cheek, the corner of his mouth, a final one for his lips that she lets linger. It's then that she sinks down, her eyes never leaving his own as her knees meet the rug below, settling between his thighs. But she's in no rush. No, she intends to draw this out; to take as much time with him as she can before he snaps. Felicia presses a kiss over the zipper of his pants, then down, following the silhouette she'd traced with her hand. Mouth parts, closing over the shape of him through the fabric, moaning as her hands roam the clothed bulk of his thighs.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤThere's mischief in her eyes, something dark and daring, as possessive as it is reverential. Her fingers finally find their way to his belt, undoing all of the fastenings and tactical attachments, guiding his pants down his hips until there's nothing left between her and her prize. ❝ You can hold my hair back for me, if you want, ❞ she bats her lashes innocently, as if she isn't full of the most devilish intentions in this very moment, but the glimmer in her eyes and the curl of her grin shows the truth. She starts with more kisses, slow, giving him the intentional visual of her plush lips closing over the tip of his cock after she's worked her way up to it. Her tongue joins her teasing, swirling around his head, licking up the length of his shaft. Even now she takes her time, watching Steve's every reaction as she works him up, fully intent to drive him out of his damn mind before she even takes him in her mouth.
