Steve Rogers would be the first to admit that he was an over achiever when it came to work. Preparation for missions, training (both solo and with teammates), the actual missions themselves, and the post meeting reports. He was more than happy to do them all, and more. So, after a semi-successful mission, in which they had been able to recover some of the missing SHIELD tech, as well as round up a few missing supposed SHIELD/HYDRA most wanted, he was never one to shirk his duty of writing up the battle report.

But today, after removing his battle suit, and taking a quick shower, he was sitting at his desk, in the glass paneled office Stark had built for him in the Tower, he noticed he was antsy to get it all over with, so he could leave without feeling like he was leaving something unfinished.

Steve checked his phone again, for the tenth time since the Quinjet had touched down, sighing as he realized that there were no new messages.

Brooklyn hadn't reached out, while he was gone.

She hadn't responded to the message he had sent. While putting his things away, after arriving back in New York.

Steve sighed again, and put the phone down, picking up the tablet on which he was currently typing up the mission report. Through the glass, he watched as the other Avengers went about their own post-mission rituals. Stark was in his lab, which overlooked the shared common rooms. Banner was walking up the stairs to join him. Romanoff and Barton were raiding the kitchen. And Steve was doing the paperwork.

The itching under his skin, the one he had only started to notice recently, returned.

The first time he had noticed it, it was after he had left the club, when discovering Brooklyn was working there. It had gone away, or so he thought, but it kept returning.

Today it was really annoying. It didn't make him feel like he was about to scratch his skin off, but rather, like he was tensing for something. He rolled his shoulders, trying to shake away the feeling. Standing up, he walked over to the window, that looked down over Manhattan. Propping his hands on his hips, he took deep breaths, trying to bring his body under control. It was just the jacked up excess energy, left over from the fighting, it had to be.

It was always the comedown, after a mission, after a fight. The excess adrenaline his body produced, to keep his senses and his reactions sharp. It helped him push his body to complete the mission put before him, to telegraph the messages to his muscles when to move.

It also allowed him to tap into that dark part of him, the one that took enjoyment in the smell and sight of battle. The part that made him want to snarl when delivering a blow. The one that he refused to let out unless there was danger. The one that he would even dare to compare to that of an animal.

That part of Steve was not a part of himself that he was proud of.

It was getting harder and harder to push that dark part of himself, that pit of darkness that sometimes crept up, and surprised even him, when it made its appearance.

Heaving a sigh, realizing that the feeling under his skin was still there, he rubbed his face with a hand, before returning to his pad. He had to get this report done, before anything else.

It took an hour, easy, before he was able to sit back, and check to see if he had missed anything, but the report was done. Saving it, he tossed the tablet down on the desk, and raised his arms over his head, feeling the stretch of his muscles. Steve considered going down to the gym and working out the excess energy that he could still feel, but that wasn't what he wanted to do.

He wanted to see Brooklyn.

The conversation they had had, while he was putting on his battle suit, before they had all left for the mission, had made him feel settled. She had agreed to let him be apart of Juliana's life. Steve was excited by the knowledge that the little girl, Bucky's little girl, was going to be allowed to be in his life. That he was going to be able to spend time with her, to see her grow up. Steve was going to be able to be the rock that that little girl could lean on, at least until he could bring her father home.

Yes, he was going to be in Juliana's life, to be there for her through thick and thin, just like he had been so for her father. by default, he was going to be allowed to be in Brooklyn's life.

Brooklyn, with her dark hair, and her pale skin. Brooklyn with her sassy mouth, and innocent blue eyes. Brooklyn, who made him catch his breath, and feel as though his lungs were going to seize. Brooklyn, who had been dealt such a raw deal, since birth, that all he wanted to do was shelter her from anything else that might try to tear her down.

Steve knew, despite what he had promised Sam, he had pushed Brooklyn. He had pushed her, but he wasn't really sorry. The worry that if he didn't push her, if he didn't try to pin her down, she was going to disappear on him, leaving only the brief memory for him to grasp at, that worry caused him to push faster then he should have. But he wasn't going to let her slip through his grasp, not like Peggy. Brooklyn was not going to be stolen from him, by anything, least of all his inability to make a move.

Her admission that she was untouched, while surprising, had pleased him, deeply, at his core. There was a deep masculine satisfaction to know that when he touched her, he would be the first to do so. He didn't have to compete with the memory of another man who had pleasured her before. When she consented, and gave herself to him, she would be his and his alone.

Despite all that, despite the fact that he was desperate to push her for more, he was going to wait for her to come to him. Just having the ability to hold her, now and then would tide him over, keep him from devouring her whole. It would leave him content to nibble at her edges, until she allowed him to sink his teeth into her fully.

Folding his arms across his chest, closing his eyes, he tried to imagine what her face would look like, the first time he made her come. How her eyes would widen with surprise, the flush that would spread across her face, the way her head would tilt back. The sound that would escape her opened lips. The way her hands would grasp at his shoulders, his head, his chest. The way her face and body would tighten, holding stiff as she rode the pleasure shooting through her body, before it all relaxed, and she was able to sink into the lasting euphoria. How, as he pulled her close afterward, the lazy lassitude would cause her body to mold to him.

Steve felt his lips curve in a smile, as he considered it.

"Steve?" The timid voice of Bruce Banner interrupted his wandering thoughts.

Opening his eyes, and shifting in his chair, Steve brought his attention to the dark-haired doctor who was standing at the office door, with a tablet similar to Steve's in his hand. "Dr. Banner?"

"Yeah, I got a chance to look at those medical files you gave me? And I wanted to show you something." Banner came into the room, holding out the tablet. The files Banner referred to were those in the thumb drive Brooklyn had given Sam. When Sam and Steve had gone through them, there were several medical files that neither one could make heads or tails of. Instead, they had both decided it would be a good idea to have Banner take a look at them, seeing as the multiple doctorates would probably have the better time of telling them what the files meant.

Steve took the tablet, looking at the schematics of the brain displayed there. "Did you find out what it meant?"

"Yeah, I did." Banner adjusted his glasses, reaching out to point out a part of the brain on display. "This is the limbic system. It shows extensive scarring, most likely due to drugs and electroshock application." He pointed out another part. "This part, the temporal lobe, also shows scarring."

Steve nodded. He was not well versed in the brain, but from what he had read up on what had possibly been done to Bucky, he had picked up enough to follow what Banner was saying. "Is there anyway to repair the damage done?"

"I wouldn't know, unless the person were here personally, to be able to test." Banner shook his head. "But that's not the most interesting part of these files. Here." He highlighted two more parts of the brain scan in front of them and pointed to them. "These are the basal ganglia and the Amygdala. Both are enlarged, which indicates that they are hyper-functioning. Basically, they are doubling the duty they usually do. The basal ganglia is where the basic needs for survival are met, the four f's if you will, Fighting, fleeing, feeding...and... well, fucking. The Amygdala is what controls your fear response, and studies have shown that PSTD can damage it. It's damaged, but its still fully functioning, which is... bizarre."

"I understand half of what you are telling me, Banner." Steve admitted.

"Okay, there was a theory, about something called the reptilian brain, which was a tie on to the theory about the Primitive brain. This scan shows someone who has all the parts of what might be considered the primitive brain jacked up. To like, 11." Banner swiped the image to a new one. "This is the scan of the second subject. The female, which we can tell by the size of the brain, as well as the development of parts of it. The same thing is present in this brain as well, minus the damage. But while there is evidence of the first scan having been artificially altered, the second scan is that of a brain that grew that way. This was genetic. This development was passed down." Banner swiped again, showing a third brain. "This is the scan SHIELD did of you, when you were in recovery from the ice. The same development is there. Steve," Banner pulled off his glasses. "These are the brain scans of people who have received variations of the super soldier serum. Where did you get these?"

"Someone who escaped HYDRA." Steve sighed. "Is there anyway you can keep this information from the rest of the team, specifically Stark? I've got this handled. No need to pull everyone in, guns blazing."

"Steve, these two subjects? One has sustained severe brain damage. The other? There were medical files attached to the scan, indicating that who ever did this, was trying to suppress the pituitary gland. They were trying to suppress the production of hormones. They were basically administering an injection, of these suppressants, at a regular basis, in hopes of controlling the reproductive nature of the subject." Banner rubbed his eyes. "The last recorded injection was about five and half months ago, with the expected efficiency being six months."

"So who ever was given these suppressants?" Steve tried to follow. "Is what? Going to reach sexual maturity?"

"No, the injections were suppressing the hormones, basically a female version of chemical castration." Banner waved a hand. "Without the injections, depending on how long they were administered, the subject will most likely reach a point where sexual urges, or identity will reassert itself."

Steve rubbed his face, his heart starting to pound. "How long? After the efficacy of the injections end, how long before this happens?"

"Again, It depends on how long the injections were administered. If it was recently, then it could happen right away. If it was years of the injections, it could be months, even years before the reproductive systems return to normal." Banner shrugged.

"What about the urges or identity?" Steve held out a hand, waiting.

"Weeks, months... it depends on how long they were being subjected to the injections." Banner put his glasses back on. "is there something I should know?"

"No. I've got it handled, I told you." Steve started collecting his things. "I need to go. Can I count on you to keep this quiet?"

"Unless I'm asked directly, I'll keep my mouth shut." Banner picked up his tablet. "Be careful, Steve."

Steve smiled, his teeth showing fully. "Always am."

**********************************************************

Brooklyn still hadn't responded to any of his messages, by the time he pulled up to the building. A quick check of his watch told him that she was most likely supposed to be home. Parking his bike, he jumped off, and pulled out his phone, hitting her number. Holding the phone up to his ear, he approached the door, looking at the names on the panel. He knew that Brooklyn and Juliana were living under assumed names, but that even that name was most likely not on the panel of buttons, that rang the apartments. The phone rang until it reached the automatic voicemail, asking him to leave a message. Groaning, he hung up, considering the call box.

There was no Marino, either. But there was one name that Steve recognized.

In the diner, the day they went school supply shopping for Juliana, when the little girl had not been able to finish her meal, Brooklyn had mentioned they were going to have dinner with Mrs. De Luca, and there, on the panel, was a De Luca. Apartment 3C. Steve was about to hit the button, to call the apartment, when a tall, semi-well built man, with dark hair tipped with blonde, and a tan, came up to the door, keys in hand. Dressed in board shorts and a wifebeater, his sunglasses mirroring Steve's expression back at him, he smiled, his teeth artificially white.

"Hey man, you lookin for someone?" He asked, jiggling the keys around his finger.

"Mrs. De Luca, 3C." Steve answered, not really trusting the guy.

"Cool, cool." The man put the keys in the door, opening it. "I'll let you in."

Steve frowned. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, you look cool." The tanned man shrugged.

Steve followed the man into the building, starting up the stairs.

"Hey, you totally work out, don't you?" The man asked, hitting the stairs behind Steve. "Personal trainer, or gym?"

"Uh, gym." Steve answered, raising an eyebrow.

"Cool, cool. Look, my name is Chad, and I work for my buddy, who owns a gym. If you want, I can put in a good word for you, and even start you out as your personal trainer, if you want to take it to the next level." Chad offered, grinning. "Won't even charge you for the first month."

"I think I'm good, thanks." Steve wondered how often people took the man up on his offer.

"Well, you'll never finish bulking up, unless you do the whole lifestyle." Chad stopped on the second floor landing. "Let me know if you change your mind."
Steve reluctantly took the man's hand. "Will do."
"Also, be careful of the single mom up there. Hot as hell, but I think she's frigid." Chad jerked his head towards the stairs. "I tried to pick her up, yesterday, but she didn't seem like she was going to go with it. Cute kid, though."

Steve froze. "Single mom?"

"Yeah, dark hair, blue eyes, body that would make Jesus cum in his pants. Bit on the skinny side, but god damn, that ass! Anyhow, I helped her bring her laundry up, so I figured her going out for a drink wasn't too much to ask in return." Chad shook his head. "But no, she didn't bite. And who could resist THIS?" He indicated his body.

"Boggles the mind." Steve replied dryly, his fists starting to tighten.

"Anyhow, my man, just keep an eye out for her, or she might freeze your dick off if you get too close. Have a good day!" Chad trotted off towards his hall.

Steve exhaled heavily, relaxing his body. Then he turned and went up the last flight of stairs, going down the short hall, until he reached 3C. Straightening, he knocked on the door.

There was a shuffling heard from behind the door, then it swung open to reveal a older woman, her gray hair cut in a bob around her regally wrinkled face, a gold cross hanging from her neck.
"Posso aiutarla?" she asked, her voice softly accented.

"I'm sorry, I don't speak Italian." Steve apologized, bowing his head slightly. "I'm looking for Brooklyn?"

"You are in it, sciocco." She responded. "All around you, Brooklyn. How did you get in this building?"

"Neighbor, downstairs. He let me in." Steve jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "No, I don't think you understand, I'm looking for a resident. Her name is Brooklyn. You know her, and her sister? Juliana?"

The older woman straightened up. "Why do you want to know? Huh?"

"She hasn't been answering her phone, Mrs. De Luca. I've just been concerned." He was concerned that in the time since they had talked, she had disappeared. That she had grabbed Juliana and run, like Sam had once suggested she might. That he had lost the two of them.

"And what, you thought you could make me tell you? Big man, forcing a tiny old woman like myself to tell you information on those sweet girls?" Mrs. De Luca waved her hands around. "Lemme tell you something, stronza, it will take a lot more then that to make me squeal!"

"No, Mrs. De Luca, I'm not going to-" Steve started, raising his hands up to pacify the older woman.

"You are going to have to do more than threaten me! You can pull my ears off! Pluck my eyes out! Rip out my tongue!" The older woman began poking him in the chest. Steve backed up a bit from her, but she kept coming at him. "Puoi strapparmi la pelle! rompimi le gambe! Usami come puntaspilli per i tuoi coltelli! Ma non ti dirò mai dove sono quelle ragazze! Ho affrontato uomini più spaventosi di te! I capi di alcune delle mafie della vecchia scuola! Quelli che insozzavano le donne durante un'aggressione familiare! Pensi di essere qualcosa? eh? Non sei altro che la merda sotto le mie scarpe! Di quelli che profumano la cattedrale quando vado a confessarmi, a pregare per il perdono per averti sbattuto la testa!" You can rip off my skin! break my legs! Use me as a pin cushion for your knives! But I will never tell you where those girls are! I've faced down scarier men than you! The bosses from some of the old school mafias! The ones who used to dirty up the women during a family takedown! Do you think you are something? Huh? You are nothing but the shit under my shoes! The kind that smells up the cathedral when I go to confession, to pray forgiveness for knocking your head in!

"Ma'am, I'm not trying to threaten you." Steve backed up, the woman advancing, still poking at his chest, occasionally waving her hands around. His back hit the wall across from her door. "I'm not here to hurt anyone. I just want to make sure that they are safe."

"Safe?" She jerked her head back. "I make sure they are safe! ME!" She slapped at his chest. "Stronzo del cazzo! Grande uomo, pensando che quelle ragazze non siano protette! Cosa ti fa pensare di avere tutto ciò di cui hanno bisogno?" Fucking asshole! Big man, thinking those girls aren't protected! What makes you think you have anything they need?

"Ma'am, I don't understand what you are saying." Steve sighed.

"oh, so now you want to mock me for being Italian?" She scoffed. "Typical American thug! Look down on the immigrant!"

Steve raised an eyebrow. "My parents were immigrants."

"And you think that makes you special?" She waved her hands at him. "Get out of here with that. Pick yourself up, no one is going to hand you anything for free!"

Thoroughly confused, Steve raised his hands over his head, in surrender. "Ma'am, what are you talking about?"

"You shouldn't expect this country to give you everything you need. You need to go out and work for it." She nodded, putting her hands on her hips. "My son, god rest his soul, he was the same way, always expecting everything to be handed to him. If he had lived longer, I hope he would have learned that lesson."

Steve felt like he had slipped into an alternate universe, trying to figure out where the turn in the conversation had happened. He heard noise, footsteps, coming up the stairs, and a familiar giggle. But before he could give it his full attention, the older lady started in again.

"And a good looking man, like yourself! You better be getting on your knees every Sunday, thanking God, because the Lord knows the ugly ones never get anywhere!" Mrs. De Luca poked him in the chest. "But don't think that gives you a free pass, either."

"I'm not looking for a free pass." Steve responded, turning his head towards the stairs.

Juliana jumped up the stairs, her hair in pigtails. Seeing Steve in the hall, her face burst into a bright, sunny smile. "CAP'N!"

She ran forward, and wrapped her arms around his leg, looking up with her happy smile. He returned the smile, and reached down, placing a hand on top of her head. "Hey, Sweetheart. How's my girl?"

"Great!" She hugged his leg tighter. "We had to go get groceries! Lyn is going to try to make dinner, again. But we will prolly end up ordering pizza."

Mrs. De Luca, who now hand her hands out, as if to grab Juliana away from him, looked between him and the stairs, where Brooklyn was standing, grocery bags in hand. "Conosci quest'uomo?" Do you know this man?

"Sì, è un amico. Va tutto bene?" Brooklyn asked, shifting the bags to grab them better. Just seeing her again, safe, eased some of the tension in his body. His hands itched to hold her, to feel her under them. Her hair was up in one of those weird hair twist bun things that women did, exposing the skin of her neck, made even more obvious by her thin strapped tank top. Yes, he's a friend. Is everything okay?

A gleam in her eye, Mrs. De Luca suddenly sagged into herself, grasping her arms, making herself look smaller. "Oh, this... this man! He came in here! He banged on my door, until I opened it! And then he started to threaten me! Threaten me, unless I told him where you were! But I refused!" The older woman made the sign of the cross over herself, then spit at Steve's feet. "Stronzo del cazzo!" Fucking asshole!

Brooklyn's disbelieving eyes snapped to Steve's. "Rogers?"

He sighed and rolled his head. "I didn't threaten her. I just asked where you were." He shrugged. "She's the one who kept on about how I was going to have to do things to make her tell me."

Brooklyn rolled her eyes. "Sta bene, signora De Luca. Non voleva dire niente con questo. Mi scuso e mi assicurerò che lo sappia meglio la prossima volta." He's fine, Mrs. De Luca. He didn't mean anything by it. I apologize and will make sure he knows better next time.

Juliana looked up at Steve, tugging on his pant leg. When he looked down at her, she frowned. "Lyn and Mrs. De Luca speak Italian to each other. It's because they talk about things they don't want me to know. But I'm gonna show them, I'm gonna learn how to speak it."

Steve pursed his lips and nodded. "That sounds like a good plan. I might have to join you. We can learn it together."

Brooklyn and Mrs. De Luca, watching the exchange, laughed, while Brooklyn shifted the bags again.

"Juliana," Brooklyn chuckled, "Would you grab the keys out of my hand, and open the door?"

Juliana reached out, still gripping Steve's pants, trying to hook the keys dangling from her sisters fingers. Steve huffed out a laugh, and helped her, snagging the keys and holding them out for Juliana.

The little girl grabbed the keys and tried to find the apartment key with one hand, whining in frustration as she had to let go of Steve's pants to actually use both hands, until the key was held out.

"Aspetto quella bambina domani sera. Buona fortuna con la cena." Mrs De Luca said to Brooklyn, backing into her apartment. "Juliana, I will see you tomorrow, yes?" I expect that little girl tomorrow night. Good luck with dinner. Good night!

"Yes, Mrs. De Luca." Juliana replied, moving to the apartment that she shared with her sister. "C'mon, Cap'n!"

Steve grinned and followed Juliana, as she struggled with the door for a moment, before successfully unlocking it, and skipping inside, waving him to follow her. Brooklyn sighed, and followed the pair, turning to thank Mrs. De Luca, for her help.

The older woman waved at the three of them, giving Steve the evil eye as she shut her apartment door.

Moving, Steve reached to help Brooklyn with the grocery bags, lifting them out of her hands, and backing into the apartment, his eyes never leaving hers, as she followed, a frown on her face.

"How did you get in the building?" She asked, shutting the door behind her. "Juliana, keys?"

Juliana handed her sister the keys, taking off her shoes on the mat by the door, specifically set out for that reason, apparently. Steve considered keeping his own shoes on, but realizing that the girls took theirs off, and knowing how rude it would be to keep his own on, toed off his sneakers, using his feet to line them up next to Juliana's. "Downstairs neighbor saw me at the door, and let me in."

The remarks the tanned man had made about Brooklyn heated Steve's blood. He pondered if maybe it would be an overreach to go downstairs, knock on the door of the man, and set him straight. Holding the bags in his hands, he turned, taking in the apartment for the first time.

It was just a basic apartment, in a way. With the exception of the furniture, there were really no defining features. No art on the walls, no plants, no kitchen items that indicated personality. The couch was one of those overly padded affairs, in a soft gray, sitting in front of a pale wood coffee table, which held a remote for the TV, which stood on a stand, against the wall. The kitchen which was directly in front of him, was just as simple, with a breakfast bar, with stools, on one side. A hall was to the side, where Steve suspected lead to the bedrooms and bathroom.

Brooklyn hung up the keys, double checking the locks on the door, making sure her shoes were lined up. Frowning, she put her hands on her hips. "Well, I guess the next question is, why did you come down?"

Steve sighed and held up the groceries. "Kitchen?" At her nod, he went and put the groceries on the counter, before mimicking her position. "I told you, a couple days ago, that I had a question I wanted to ask you."

She nodded. "What was that question?"

He took a step closer, holding his breath for a moment, before slowly letting it out. "May I take you out, on a date?"

Brooklyn blinked. "What happened to not moving fast?"

He shrugged. "There's fast, and then there is asking you out on a date."

"And this is asking me out on a date?" Brooklyn raised an eyebrow.

"This is me asking you out on a date." Steve agreed, nodding.

Brooklyn bit her lip. "I guess that would be okay."

Feeling relief flush through him, Steve grinned, then laughed, looking over at Juliana, who was watching the two adults with fascination, a finger stuck in her mouth. Steve went over, and picked her up, propping her on his hip. "How about that, Sweetheart. Your sister agreed to go out with me."

"Why didn't you call me, to ask me?" Brooklyn went into the kitchen, starting to pull items out of the grocery bags, placing them on the counter, as she watched Steve with her sister.

"Well, I tried messaging you, several times, before I came over." He answered, swinging Juliana up in the air, before placing her on the couch. "I even tried to call, but you never answered."

Brooklyn looked at him, with a surprised look on her face. "I never heard my phone go off."

She walked over to where she had placed her messenger bag, and rummaged through one of the pockets, pulling out her phone. Hitting the power button, she frowned. "Okay, I see the messages and the missed call. Why didn't I hear the notifications?" She pressed a few buttons, before turning to Juliana. "Jules, when we were out today, and you had my phone, did you hit the side buttons?"

"Uh huh." Juliana replied, leaning over the back of the couch, reaching for Steve's pantleg. "it made the blue line disappear."

"Oh, Jules." Brooklyn put a hand over her eyes. "She turned the sound off."

Steve started laughing, relieved. "Well, that's a simple explanation." He turned to Juliana. "How about we don't play with Brooklyn's phone anymore, unless it's an emergency, alright?"

Juliana nodded. "Kay, Cap'n. Can I watch TV, until dinner?"

Brooklyn made a disgusted sound and went back to the kitchen to finish unloading the groceries. "Yes, Juliana." She eyed Steve. "Okay, so you had to come all the way down here, just to ask me out."

He followed her, folding his arms across his chest, leaning his hip against the edge of the counter. "Well, I told you, I didn't want to waste time anymore."

Brooklyn nodded her head. "You did tell me this. You also told me a lot of other things, in that phone call."
"I remember." Steve grinned. "You also told me a few things."

She sighed, closing the fridge after placing milk in it. "Is what I told you going to be a problem?"

"No." He cleared his throat. "Just the opposite, actually."

Brooklyn raised an eyebrow in question. Steve liked how expressive her face was. When she did certain ticks, certain moves, he was able to see Bucky, but at the same time, it was pure Brooklyn.

"it does not bother me, that you haven't.. well, that you are innocent." Steve was trying to be delicate.

"That I have never engaged in sexual intercourse?" Brooklyn clarified.

He had also noticed that about her, as well. She was a bit on the literal side. But her frank description allowed a flare of heat run through him. He pushed it down. "Yes."

She nodded, returning her attention back to the groceries. He watched as she put things away, and then began pulling out pots and pans. "What are you going to make?"

"I am going to attempt to make linguini bolognese," Brooklyn responded, as she began to fill a pot with water. "With garlic bread."

"Attempt?" Steve leaned over and watched as she put the pot of water on the stove.

"I am not the most proficient when it comes to cooking." Brooklyn blushed. "It's not something that is in my repertoire."

He smiled, huffing out a laugh. "Well, do you need a hand?"

Steve moved to join her in the kitchen. He watched as she began to separate the ingredients.

Pulling out a cutting board and a knife, she shoved the onion and tomatoes in front of him. "fine, you can chop all of that up, while I brown the meat."

Steve rolled up his sleeves, and washed his hands, going to work.

They worked in companionable silence, Steve chopping the vegetables, Brooklyn stirring the meat, until she reached for a small jar of olives. She opened the olives, and began to just pour it in, juices and all when he murmured, "You might want to drain those first."

"Drain?" She looked at him, with a frown on her face. "Why?"
"So it doesn't make a soup, as opposed to a sauce." He put the knife down, and snagged the jar from her hand. Using the cap as a partial seal, he poured the juice out of the jar, into the sink, before handing it back to her. "Here. That should be better. Do you have garlic?"

Brooklyn pointed to a head of garlic on the counter. "Right there."

"Turn the heat down, and we can add the garlic in, to cook with the olives." He made quick work of preparing the garlic, making sure it was minced, even if it was a bit on the rough side. Steve turned, the garlic in his hand, and reached around her to toss the garlic in with the olives and the meat. Keeping her slightly caged with his body, he reached for the wooden spoon in her hand, and showed her how to move the mixture to ensure that the garlic didn't burn. "Now, keep stirring."

"How do you know how to do this?" She asked, bracing herself with one hand on the counter, as she worked the meat in the pan.

"Well, after my mother passed, I had to learn how to do for myself." He leaned down, and ran his nose along her hairline, inhaling as he did so. "It took a bit, but I learned. Your grandmother helped. She was always willing to teach me something, to help me out."

He felt Brooklyn stiffen for a moment, before she relaxed. "So, how long before you became a master chef?"

"I wouldn't call myself a master. More like, able to cook well enough to not starve. Granted, the first few months, I think there was more carbon than anything in my meals." Steve slid his hand on to her hip, spanning his fingers out, giving her a gentle squeeze. "Where are your spices?"

She looked at him, over her shoulder, her eyes wide. "I have salt and pepper."

Chuckling, he pressed a soft kiss to her temple. "Is that all?"

"Wait, Mrs. De Luca gave me a bunch when we moved in." She pointed at a narrow cupboard next to the stove, on the wall. "I put them in there. I didn't know what to do with them."

Steve reached over and opened the cupboard, shuffling through the jars, finding what he was looking for. God bless Italian women. Reaching under her stirring arm, he added dried basil, oregano, and a little bit of rosemary. Then, turning, he grabbed the chopped onion, and added that to the mixture as well. The scent of garlic, olives, meat, spices and now onion scented the air, making his mouth water. "See? That's going to be good."

She made a sound of agreement, continuing to stir it all together. Her body was starting to rock with the movement of her arm, her hips moving back and forth. She was a bit too short for her hips to rub against his, if he was pressed up against her, but the perfect height for him to rest his chin on her head. He stroked the fingers of one hand down her arm, from her bared shoulder to her wrist. Her skin prickled in goosebumps under his touch, and he smiled gently at it. Running them back up to her shoulder, he patted them gently, before withdrawing all touch.

"See how the onions are turning translucent?" He asked, turning back to the cutting board, gathering all of the chopped tomatoes. "Now, is the time to add the tomatoes, and then you can put a lid on it, and let it simmer, while you wait for the water to boil, and the noodles to cook."

Brooklyn moved out of the way enough for him to dump the tomatoes into the pan, and kept stirring it, as he had instructed. Steve rummaged through the drawers for a bit, looking for the silverware, before pulling out a spoon, and dipping it into the sauce.

He held it up to her lips. "Try it. Taste it to see if it is how you want it be."

She blew on the hot sauce for a moment, before leaning over and closing her mouth over the spoon, humming as she pulled away. Nodding, she looked at him. "I think that's right."

He dipped the spoon again, bringing it up to his mouth, nodding as the hot mixture hit his tongue. Garlicky, herby, almost perfect blend of meat and vegetables, the flavor was actually pretty good. "Not bad, for a pair of non-cooks."

She laughed, and put the lid on the pan, turning down the heat some more, before checking the water. It had started to steam, but was a bit away from boiling. Steve leaned around her, and turned the heat up a bit more, on the stove under the pot, without judging her.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw Juliana engrossed in a cartoon about brightly colored ponies, not even giving the pair in the kitchen the slightest attention. Turning Brooklyn to face him, he began to back up into a corner of the kitchen, still watching Juliana over Brooklyn's head. Finally trapping himself, he smiled down at Brooklyn, running a finger along her jaw.

"There you are." He said, lowly, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close, before lowering his head to rest on her shoulder. He felt her raise her arms, wrapping around his bent neck, and sighed, as he felt her tension leave her body, relaxing into his embrace. "I've been wanting to do this, since I laid eyes on you."

"Oh?" She murmured, near his ear, the feel of her exhalation causing him to shiver. "Why is that?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, but admitted, "Because when I couldn't get a hold of you, I was afraid you had run... from me."

Brooklyn gave a soft chuckle. "Trust me, Rogers, if I'm going to run, it's not going to be because of you."

Steve chuckled as well. "I was afraid, just the same. I don't know what I would have done, had you run."

"Hunt me down? I seem to remember being the threat, last time you warned me to not go anywhere." Brooklyn teased, resting her head alongside his.

He tightened his arms, just for a moment, before shaking his head. "I never should have done that to you."

"You didn't know me. You didn't know who I was. You had no reason to trust me, Rogers." She shrugged. "I imagine I would have done the same thing."

He sighed. "Once, I might have. But now? I don't want to do anything to hurt you, Brooklyn."

Brushing a hand over the back of his head, she hummed. "Well, you at least kept your promise to me."

"What promise?" He closed his eyes, and pressed his lips against the bare skin of her shoulder.

"You came back in one piece, Captain." He could hear the smile in her voice. "That's a good start."

"I will always try to come back in one piece." He promised.

Brooklyn hummed again. "We'll see."

He grinned against her skin. "Does this mean you are my girl?"

She laughed. "Is that really what you want?"

Steve raised his head, to look her in the eyes, while reaching out to cup her cheek. "Right now? More then anything else in the world."

Giving him a small smile, Brooklyn nodded. "Okay. I'll be your girl."

He felt his face part in a toothy grin, as he wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up, laughing.

"BUT!" She continued, looking down at him. "You are still going to have to show me what that is."

"Oh, don't worry, Doll." He grinned, putting her back on her feet, bending down to kiss the corner of her mouth. "I am going to enjoy showing you what being my girl means."