Steve returned within an hour. The prescription had been called into the closed pharmacy, and it had apparently been filled and ready before he even walked in the door. On top of it, he didn't have to pay. The pharmacy owner had simply waved him on, asking him to pass on his hope for a swift return to health for Queenie's sister.
He shook his head, as he told this to Brooklyn, causing her to laugh under her breath at his resignation. The pharmacy owner had also suggested a few more items to make the ordeal easier, for all concerned. Things like a two-way monitor, so the adults might be able to get sleep while still having an ear out for any distress the little girl might have. A small humidifier, in case Juliana became too stuffed up to breathe easy. A small heated pad, to make muscles sore from being sick find relief. Steve had also picked up a stuffed animal, with the ability to be put into the microwave, to add additional heat to a shivering little girl, if needed.

It was also scented with lavender.

It was touching, the look of hope and nerves, on Steve's face, when he presented everything he had brought home to her. It helped to ease the fear that still had a grip on her, with Juliana so sick.

It sure as hell earned him a kiss and a bone-crushing hug, which he eagerly returned. And it might have gone further, if Wilson hadn't cleared his throat to remind them that he was, unfortunately at that moment, still in the room.

Wilson had cooked up a small dinner, pork chops, and rice with vegetables on the side, which was ready by the time Steve had returned. For a moment, all three adults looked at each other, not really knowing what to do.

The medication that Dr. Gibson had given to Juliana before he left was working. The girl was still coughing slightly, but it wasn't the great wracking hacks that had been stealing her breath for the better part of the day. She was even asleep, which Wilson was quick to inform her was really needed if the little girl was to make it out of the woods.

Steve, still dirty from where ever he had been with the Avengers, had gently suggested they take the time to eat and get themselves cleaned up. Maybe even try to get a few moments of sleep themselves, in case it was a long night. Reluctantly, Brooklyn had agreed. So, while Wilson dished up the dinner, and Brooklyn took her seat at the table, Steve grabbed the monitor, informing them as he headed towards the hall, that he was going to set it up so they could keep an ear out for Juliana. He returned shortly, the receiver in his hand, the hitching sound of Juliana's breathing coming statically through it. He glanced at it, before putting it at Juliana's spot at the table, a soft smile on his face as he did so.

She sat at the table, poking at the food on the plate that Wilson had put in front of her, after much encouragement from both men. She wasn't hungry. She wasn't even tempted by the food, even though the pork chop was moist, and perfectly cooked. She would pick up a piece, put it in her mouth, and not even notice the spices or flavors used.

Finally, she put the fork down and pushed the plate away.

Steve paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. "Everything alright, Babydoll?"

"I'm not hungry." She explained, apologetically to Wilson. He had gone through so much trouble, too.

"Mrs. Carmine stopped by." Wilson nodded. "She brought over some soup. She also brought over some more of those cakes you like. The colored ones?"

"Italian rainbow cakes." Brooklyn supplied, dully.

"Yeah. Those. She also brought over some of that cream cake that Juliana likes. For when she gets better." Wilson paused. "You want me to get you some of the soup?"

"I'm not hungry." She reiterated, standing up. "I'm sorry. I just... I don't want to eat anything."

"Brooklyn." Steve set his fork down, reaching for her hand. "Just... can you eat a little more? Please?"

She sighed, opening her mouth to argue when he squeezed her hand gently.

"Just a little bit more, Babydoll." He implored, his blue eyes wide and pleading. "I know you are worried. I know you are upset. But you aren't going to make her better, by starving yourself. Okay? Please, sit down, and try to eat a little more."

She sighed again, sitting down, moving the chair back to the table, while Steve moved the plate of food back in front of her. Reluctantly, she picked up her fork and stabbed another bite of food, shoving it in her mouth.

Steve nodded in approval, before picking his own fork back up.

Blinking, she paused, before narrowing her eyes at him. "Are you handling me?"

He stared at her in shock, she guessed, before shaking his head. "No. I just... I need to take care of you, as well. I need to make sure that you are okay. I mean, I know everything that's happening right now... I'm not okay with it. So I don't expect you to be. Our girl is sick. We never expected it to happen. We have to readjust everything we had thought. Everything we had planned. It's... it's a lot."
"It is." She agreed, softly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have accused you-"

"It's okay." He reached out again, taking her hand, rubbing it. "I understand. We'll get through it, together. As a family. The way we have been doing, this entire time."

Brooklyn nodded, before turning and catching the assessing look Wilson had, as he watched Steve and her interact. "Wilson? You alright over there?"

He cleared his throat, returning his attention to his plate. "Yeah. It's just interesting sometimes, watching the two of you work things out."

"We're getting better." Steve smiled at Brooklyn. "It's a work in progress. I give us... oh, I'd say... fifty years before we figure it out."

"You're being generous, Steve." Brooklyn returned the smile. "I'd say sixty. At the earliest. And only because you are an idiot."

The sparkle was returning to his eyes. "But I'm your idiot. So I think that's okay."

"Debatable." She snarked, opening her mouth to say more about the state of his intelligence, but the sound of Juliana's coughing from the speaker cut her off. She turned her head to look at it, frowning. "She still doesn't sound good."

"It's gonna take a bit of time, Brooklyn," Steve assured, returning to rubbing her hand. "The doctor says it's in her lungs, right now. We just have to wait for the medicine to do its work. But you'll see, she'll be back to being her happy little self, before too long."

"Was this how it was, for you?" she turned her head, to look at him. "When you were... not you? The other?"

He frowned. "Yeah. I guess that was one of the reasons I panicked the way I did. I got your voicemail, and... I panicked. I was terrified..." he paused, swallowing. "If something had happened to her... and I wasn't there..."
She blinked. "I know the feeling. That was all I could think of on my way to the school. The entire drive, I was in a panic. God, I think that was the longest half hour of my life."

Steve frowned. "Half hour? Where were you? I thought you would be at home, today."

She shook her head. "I was in Hell's Kitchen. I was... talking to a law firm. I now have the firm on retainer."

Wilson raised a hand. "Law firm? Why?"

"Steve pointed out during his proposal that my... extracurricular activities, might cause legal issues, later. I would think that having a lawyer ready to help, and to answer questions, would be a smart thing to do." She tilted her head slightly, the memory of the blind lawyer teasing something in her head. "I think I chose a good pair."

"Hell's Kitchen, though?" Steve sighed. "Why did you choose there? It wasn't that good of an area when I was young. And recently, it hasn't proven to be much better. And there is that Devil character, running around."

"The firm I chose was the one that went up against that United Alliance thing, a few years back. They still make the news occasionally, with the amount of work they do for people who are disadvantaged or don't have the money to hire the best." She shook her head. "Originally, I just went there to buy an hour of their time, to have them answer a few questions for me. The idea of having them on retainer... well, that came after."

"Do they seem competent, at least?" Wilson asked, taking a bite.

"I think so." she shrugged.

"Men or women?" Steve asked, squeezing her hand.

"Men." She sighed. "One of them... yeah."

He frowned. "Is that a good idea?"

"If he's a good lawyer, I don't care. And I can't avoid all the men in the world, as much as you would like me to, just to keep that from happening." She told him, referring to her pheromones. "Maybe it would be a bonus? If he is affected, maybe he'll work harder to keep me out of jail?"

"Seems manipulative." Wilson pointed out.

Brooklyn let a dry laugh leave her. "That's kind of my MO, Wilson. That's kind of how I've survived this entire time."

Steve sighed. "Do I get to meet these lawyers?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. Possibly." Pausing she considered how the lawyers had suggested that Steve come in, to sign the prenup if she accepted his marriage proposal. "Most likely. One of them appears to be a fan of yours, so fair warning."

He sighed. "As long as they keep you out of jail, I don't care if he's obsessed."

The warm bloom of happiness filled her, making her feel soft inside. This was one of the reasons she loved him. He was willing to put up with one of those weird people who seemed to think he walked on water, as he put it, to make sure she was safe. He cared more about her safety and freedom than he did his own comfort around other people. He would smile, and shake hands, with someone, just to make sure she had the best legal defense possible.

"I love you." She told him, the smile returning.

He blinked. "I love you, too."

Juliana broke into a fit of coughing again, drawing the attention of the adults.

"How long will the medication the doctor gave her last?" She asked, focusing on the sound of her sister coughing in her sleep.

"A few hours," Steve assured. "He said that sleep was the best medicine she needed, really. That, and we needed to keep pushing as many fluids as we can when she is awake. The... evacuations can cause dehydration."

Wilson pointed his fork at Steve. "Now, you decide to clean up your language. I've heard you say a hell of a lot worse."

She giggled slightly, as Steve rolled his eyes at his friend.

"Please, I'm trying. What am I supposed to say? She's a little girl!" Steve asked a bit irritated.

Brooklyn shook her head, before looking down at her plate. She frowned. It was almost empty. "Where did my food go?"

"You ate it, Queenie." Wilson nodded.

"What?" she frowned deeper.

"You were eating the entire time we've been talking," Steve told her, grinning. "I guess you were too focused on what we were talking about to realize that you were eating."

Brooklyn made a sound of frustration, pushing the plate away and standing up. She dodged Steve's hand, and walked away from the table, looking around the living room. "I have too much to do. This place is a mess."

Steve sighed. "Brooklyn, we'll get it back to where you want it. Just... take a moment, for yourself, okay?"

"You still need to shower." she barked, stalking to the hallway. "You smell."

She heard Wilson's incredulous bark, and Steve's rough sigh, before the sound of a chair being pushed back accompanied the sound of his footsteps following her. She ignored him, going to the hall closet, opening the door and pulling down an armful of towels.

"Brooklyn..." His voice had a warning tone to it. "You've been doing so well, lately."

"I'm not in the mood, Rogers." She snapped. "I'm going to put these in the bathroom for you, and then I'm going to go lay out some clean clothes in the bedroom. Once I'm done, I'm going to go watch my sister. Go finish eating. Then get in the shower."

She dodged his hand, feeling her back skim the wall, as she carried the towels into the bathroom, setting them down on the counter, before blowing air out of her lungs, and reaching up to push the hair out of her face. Turning to leave, she stopped short with Steve's frowning face, and crossed arms, blocking the door.

"Jesus, Steve." She snapped, her anger spiraling. She had never felt so goddamned useless! On top of that, she was pretty sure that despite his denials to the contrary, he was handling her. She hated being handled. "I thought I told you to go finish eating."

He snorted, reaching out and grabbing her by the upper arm, dragging her into the bedroom, her bare feet giving her no purchase against his insistent tugging. The upper body strength he had on her was too much. Goddamned overbuilt army toy!

He pulled her fully into the bedroom, turning so he could keep an arm on her, while shutting the door behind them. Finally releasing her, he stood still while she slapped at his chest and arms.

"Overgrown, puffed up, patriotic pin-up!" she snarled, bringing her hands down on him. "Who the hell gave you permission to drag me around like I'm a fucking log?"

He stood there, letting her get her anger out, before he finally sighed, and shaking his head, wrapped his arms around her, pinning her own arms to her side. She fought him, but he simply lifted her up off her feet. "Alright, that's enough."

"You weren't here!" she snapped, trying to get her arms free. "I was alone and scared, and I didn't know what to do... and you weren't here!"

She found herself on her feet, free, as he started pacing.

"I know that!" He told her, running his hands through his hair. "Don't you think I know that? I wasn't here! She got sick, and you were scared, and I wasn't here to take care of it. To take care of her. To take care of you! I was off, in some part of the world, and nothing came of it! And I could have come home and she would have been gone! That thought terrifies me, Brooklyn. It scares me to the bone, more than anything else, other than losing you."

He took a deep breath, stopping, looking at her, sucking breath in and out.

"Tell me to stop." He ordered. "Tell me to walk away from the Avengers. Tell me to give it all up. Now. Do that, give me that ultimatum. Tell me that you will walk away from me, as long as I am Captain America. Tell me, Brooklyn."

She sucked in a breath, not sure what to say.

This was what she had wanted.

She had wanted him to stop. To stop being the Star-Spangled Man With A Plan. To put down the shield, and walk away from being Captain America. To just be Steve Rogers.

If he did, maybe she would be able to keep him for the next fifty years. Maybe she would be okay with marrying him. Maybe she would be okay with discussing possibly having a family. Maybe she would be okay with thinking about the future as more than this nebulous idea that still seemed so foggy to her.

Maybe she would be able to keep him, for the rest of her life.

If she told him to, he would put down the shield. He would stop risking his life every time he went out with the Avengers. He would stop coming home banged up, bruised, cut up, his body sore and tired from a fight that she wasn't sure was even his anymore.

If she said the words, he would stop.

She opened her mouth, to say the words, wanting to tell him to stop. To tell him to retire. To tell him to give it all up.

But she paused.

If she did, he would be... content. He would make sure he was happy with his life. With their life. He would find something to occupy his time, while she was either playing 'hands off' with the daily running of the borough, or in class. He would help her keep the house, make meals, help with the laundry... he would be there, every day.

And she wouldn't have to worry about the day when he wouldn't come home.

But she was... certain, almost... that he wouldn't be happy, not really. Something would happen on the news, or something would happen in the world, and there would be a ghost, and uncertainty, in his eyes. One that told her he would be wishing he could suit up and strap in, to help the fight, to help his friends.

As much as she wanted to keep him from that, she knew there was no helping it.

Steve would never not want to fight.

And she was a little pissed, that he was throwing the responsibility for him retiring on her.

That he would do it, if she told him to.

She snapped her mouth shut, exhaling harshly, while folding her arms, eyeing him up and down, considering how she was going to approach this, without starting an outright fight between them.

"Let me understand this." She began, taking a slow deep breath. "If I told you, right now, you would go to the Tower, pack up your things, give your Avenger buddies a fond farewell, and announce that Captain America was done. You quit. You'll chuck the shield into a closet, and forget all about helping out with any fight that came their way. Just... put your feet up, and take up a hobby to occupy yourself."

"Well," He put his hands on his hips, lowering his head, before giving it a quick shake, letting out a deep sigh. "I imagine helping raise Juliana is gonna take up a fair amount of my time. Plus, I have to make sure I keep you safe and sound. That's gonna take a lot of energy."

"And you wouldn't ever resent me for it." She asked, raising an eyebrow. "You'd never look over at me, one day, if the world was in flames, and ask why I kept you from making sure the fire never started in the first place? If another Schmidt, or Hitler or... Stalin.... or ... I don't know... gained power? You wouldn't be upset with me, for keeping you from stopping them in the first place?"

He took a step towards her. "As long as I have you, I will deal with it."

"But you would still want to go out, to help stop them." She concluded.

"I can't..." he sighed, before bringing a hand up to rub at his face. "I can't not want to help. It's... it's a part of me. But... I also can't stand here and tell you that there will always be a part of me that wants to just... stay here. If something really serious had happened.... if I hadn't been here... Brooklyn, I don't think I would have ever been able to forgive myself."

"I can't offer you absolution." she blinked. "I don't even have any for myself."
"That's not what I want!" He groaned. "I want you to tell me what you want me to do. What I need to do, to make you... to make sure this sort of thing doesn't happen again. Where you resent me for not being here, when I was really needed. Because... otherwise, it's gonna happen again, Babydoll. Something is gonna happen, and I'm not gonna be here for it, because the world needs Captain America."

"You're right." She agreed, nodding her head. "The world needs Captain America. We don't. Juliana and I, we don't need Captain America. Honestly, it would sometimes be better, if Captain America never walks through that door. We need Steve Rogers. That's who we need. And I know, that sometimes, it's hard to separate the two."

He stared at her, while she took another breath.

"I told Jules, months ago. After the first trip, you took with us to the park. That there might come a day when you were going to have to choose between us and the world." She kept her eyes on his, so he knew what she was saying was the truth. "And I still believe that. But, we are gonna have to figure out how to handle that. Because that's the reality we live in. The world needs Captain America. And Captain America needs to fight to protect the world. That's... just how it is. All we want, is for Steve Rogers to come home to us."

Brooklyn shook her head.

"I will not tell you to retire." She reached out, touching his cheek, under his eye. "I will not tell you to put down the shield. I will not tell you to walk away from a part of yourself, that while I sometimes hate and resent it, is still part of the man I fell in love with." Taking her hand away from his cheek, she brought it across the same cheek sharply. The sound of the smack was a sharp crack in the room. His head turned with the strike, the shape of her hand starting to bloom red on his cheek. "And how fucking dare you make me take responsibility for that. If you want that life, then take it. Do not put that on me. Ever. Do you understand me, Steven Grant Rogers?"

He reached up, closing his eyes as he touched his cheek.

"Yes." She breathed. "There will be times when you let us down, in the pursuit of helping the rest of the world. Because in the scheme of things, we are two people, vs billions. Yes, there will be times when I will resent you for it. Because, and I know I have a hard time accepting it so I don't know how I expect a fucking idiot like yourself to, but I am human. I am a petty, jealous, selfish human. Maybe more so than others. Juliana is right. I don't know how to share. Least of all sharing you. I don't want to do it. Ever. Because you are mine, goddammit. Its always going to piss me off, when things like this happen. I panic. I will always panic when something happens that I don't know how to handle. And I will react badly. Because I don't know how any other way to be."

"Brooklyn..." He whispered, his eyes still closed tight.

"But don't you fucking ever again, make me be the bad guy, by making you chose." She snarled, her hands curling into fists. "Because I am doing everything I can, to keep from making you do it every day, just on my own. I don't need your help with my own bad behavior. If you can't handle the fact that you want to be fucking selfish for once in your self-sacrificing life, don't make me be the one to cover for you."

She let the last of the air in her lungs seep out. Then stood there, watching him.

"I don't want to hurt you, when I leave." He admitted. "I know it doesn't make you happy. I know you worry. I know it scares you, the idea of me maybe not coming home. And this whole thing with Juliana getting sick hasn't helped that. I thought..." he took a deep breath, swallowing. "I thought if I gave you the power...it would make you happier if you could tell me to stop. Because I don't want to do that to you, hurt you like that, if I can help it. Especially if when you act like you just did, where you blame me for not being here when you needed me, yeah... I wish you would just give me that ultimatum. Because maybe then... then I could do something about it. I could give you that. I could put it all behind me, and focus on you and Juliana."
"But at what cost?" She reached out, pushing against his chest, feeling him rock a little bit, before he rocked back into place. "Do you really think we want you, if you are going to always hold that little kernel of hatred towards us, because we made you give up your calling? Goddammit, Rogers! Listen to me, because I am sure I am only going to say this once in my goddamned life." She took a deep breath. "You do a lot of good, as Captain America. And people count on you. People look up to you, to be who they should be, who they want to strive to be. It's not just about the fight. It's about the symbol of how good people can be, if they try hard enough. And yeah, there might be a day when you pass on the shield, to someone you deem good enough to carry on your legacy. But they will never be YOU. They will never be Steve Rogers, Captain America. The original Cap. The one that gave all of them the symbol that they followed, for so goddamn long. Do you understand me?"

He opened his eyes, looking at her with something in his eyes that she couldn't identify. Then he was clasping her face in his hands, kissing her hard.

She inhaled, as she brought her hands up to grab his forearms, before she grunted, and began to try to pull away. "Are you fucking insane, Rogers? I swear to ever-loving god-"

He cut her off again with another kiss, before pulling away, and kissing her forehead. "I love you. I love you. I love you, so much."
"I love you, too, but what the hell?" She let go of one of his forearms, reaching between them to pinch his nipple. "And you still fucking smell."

He yelped, before reaching down behind her to swat her backside. "I love you."

"So you keep saying!" She snapped. "You need to take a goddamned shower."

"I love you." He grinned. "And one day, I'm going to marry you."

"Only If I agree!" she squeaked, choking on her own spit. "I still haven't agreed!"

"You will." He gave her a confident look. "Because you love me."

She made a disgusted sound, and pushed him away. "Go take a shower, Rogers. Before I donate your shield to be recycled."

"Take it with me." He asked, his voice soft. "I need... I need to keep you in sight, right now."

Brooklyn blinked slowly. "One of us needs to keep an eye on Juliana."

"Sam can do that, for a little while." He reassured. "She's gonna sleep, a few more hours. We need time, to take a breather. We aren't gonna be able to help her get better, if we keep ourselves stressed out. And I need you with me."

She took a deep breath. "If Wilson is okay with it."

"He'll be fine with it." Steve assured her, pressing another kiss to her forehead. "You'll see."

Wilson was disgustingly okay with it, as it turned out. He gave her a knowing look, before nodding his head at what Steve was asking of him. Which was, simply, to listen to the monitor, and bang on the door to the bathroom if anything changed. Steve explained that he just needed Brooklyn with him. Just to keep her within arm's length.

Steve led her to the bathroom, shutting the door behind them, giving her a soft kiss, and beginning to take off his clothes. Brooklyn moved past him to turn the shower on, adjusting the water until it was the temperature she had learned over the past months Steve liked. Not so hot it was boiling, but not an edge of cold to be felt. She finished, turning to face him, just as he dropped his pants and underwear.

It felt odd, to watch him strip, without feeling the need to press herself to his skin, and soak him in.

It wasn't that she didn't want him. She was always in a constant state of wanting him. But right now, all she wanted was to be held by him. To take comfort in the fact that he was here. She wasn't alone.

He stepped in front of her, and reached for the sweatshirt she was wearing. As he helped her lift it over her head, she cursed as her phone slipped out of the sleeve, and he laughed as he bent to pick it up, setting it on the counter.

"Why?" He asked, as he turned to help her move the flannel pants down her legs. He guided her feet out of the fabric, tossing it aside, as he began to herd her towards the shower.

"The pants didn't have pockets." she shrugged, as she stepped over the edge of the shower. "and the sweatshirt didn't either."

He nodded as he followed her, turning them so the shower beat down on his shoulders. "Ah."

She frowned, reaching for the soap on the holder. Pushing him slightly, she grabbed the washcloth off the hook, and rubbed the soap on it, then rubbed it against his chest. "You said you didn't find the Sceptre."

Steve sighed. "No. We have a few more places to check. Then we are gonna have nowhere to go, after that."

"I wish I could help." She said softly. "I wish I could tell you where to go, to find it."

"You gave us Strucker." He smiled, his eyes half closing as she washed his chest and shoulders. "That was more than enough help."

"Not enough." She grumbled, as she trailed the soapy cloth down his stomach, scrubbing at a particularly dark spot, stopping when she realized it was a bruise. "Stark still hasn't fixed the armor."
Steve shook his head. "No, he has. It was just a bad hit. It happens."

She traced the bruise with her fingers, biting her lip. "I don't like it."

He covered her hand with his. "Brooklyn, it's a team effort. They aren't there to shield me from everything."
Swallowing, she nodded. "I know. But I still don't like it."

He nodded, letting go of her, before he slowly lowered himself to his knees, the water finally soaking into his hair, and sending rivers down his face. "I know, Babydoll. I know you don't. But..."
"You being there means that other people aren't." She slowly repeated it.

"Yeah." He gave her a sad smile. "I'm sorry I put you in that position. You were right. It was me, trying to be selfish... without being selfish."
She dropped the cloth, sending her hands into his hair, stroking the growing length out of his face, grimacing at the feel of the grit and the sweat near his scalp, even as the water began to rinse it away. "Don't do that again. I have a hard enough time being... magnanimous about you belonging to the world. If you ask me again... I may not be able to be so nice about it."

He winced. "I know it's difficult."

"Difficult isn't half of what it is." She snapped, grabbing his hair and using it to tilt his head back. "You offered me what I've wanted, since I first took ownership of you. And I turned it down. Because it was the right thing to do. I won't be strong enough to do that again. Understand?"

Steve blinked up at her. "I understand. I won't put you in that position again. I love you to much to do that to you. I shouldn't have done it in the first place."

"No." She agreed, loosening her grip on his hair. "You shouldn't have."

She stepped back, turning to reach over him to grab the shampoo, and opening the bottle. Shaking and squeezing it, she managed to pour a stream of it over his head, before cursing and throwing it around the shower curtain, towards the garbage.

As she began to massage the shampoo in his hair, not giving a fuck if it got in his face or eyes, she grumped, "We have to get more shampoo. Because apparently, it didn't make it to the shopping list. Or I would have picked up some already."
"I think it was my turn to get it, this time." He admitted, sheepishly.

"Oh." She raised her eyebrows mockingly, as she began to scrub at his scalp, trying to get the grime off of him. "Was that something you were supposed to do? Huh. Imagine that. Steve Rogers forgetting something."

"Babydoll-" He paused, spitting suds out of his mouth, his eyes squeezed shut. "Look-"

"I mean, you obviously have control over everything, don't you?" she continued, before putting her hand on his forehead, making him tilt back until the water could wash away the shampoo. "I mean, apparently it's a foregone conclusion that I'm going to marry you."
She didn't know why she was bringing it up. Why she was choosing now to air her grievances.

"Brooklyn-" He gasped, his hands coming up to grasp her hips. "It's not a foregone-"
"I mean, hell, even my new lawyers seem to think it's so certain, they are already planning how they are gonna draw up the prenup they want you to sign." She used her hold on his forehead to move his head, making sure the shampoo was out of his hair. The stupid idiot had such thick hair, it was amazing he even felt it when he scratched his head over something he didn't understand. "Kitty is already planning the wedding. She has a day already reserved."

He grunted as she stepped closer, sliding a hand into his hair to pull his head close as she reached over him for the conditioner.

"Pops is already planning a dowry." She complained as she flipped open the conditioner, squeezing out a generous helping onto his head. Using the hand in his hair, she began to massage it in. "Hell, Junior is already considering you his new brother. But... no one seems to be listening to me. Only Nat and Wilson seem to be on my side."

Steve froze. "How so?"

"Nat is constantly reassuring me, that despite how much work you went into, having this ring made, and how beautifully you described me to the jeweler, you are never going to leave me. Even if I say no. Wilson is backing me up, in making sure I am making the right choice for me. For me." she put the bottle back, using both hands to smooth out the conditioner in his hair, making sure it was evenly applied. "And that while you want a wife, and a family, and all the shit that goes along with it, you won't leave me, if I am not ready, right now. He is at least realistic to know that maybe, just fucking maybe, I'm not in a place, in my head, where it might be a good idea for me to marry anyone, let alone the face that sold more war bonds than Cousin Stan."

"Uncle Sam." He corrected. "What do you mean, he doesn't think it's a good idea?"
Gripping his hair, she jerked his head back, making him wince and hiss. "Don't fucking correct me when I'm on a tirade. It's distracting. I'm trying to be pissed at you, right now."

"I don't want you to be pissed at me, Babydoll." He spoke against the strain in his neck. "I just want you. However I can have you. Yes, marriage is my goal. I've made that plain for a while now."

"I could snap your neck right now. The only thing stopping me is the fact that I like your cock, and I'm pretty sure you will have a difficult time getting an erection if you have a broken neck. At least for a while. And riding your face isn't a fucking option if you are in a neck cast." She sniffed. "Why is it so fucking important for you, that I marry you?"

"Because..." He groaned, and she let up on her grip slightly so he could ease his neck. "If you are my wife, no one can really take you away from me. You'll be mine, in the eyes of the law. Not even... Not even your father, would be able to break us apart. Not once we say our vows before God."

"I don't think you understand how my father works, anymore, Steve." She shook her head, going back to massaging his scalp with her nails. "He's not going to be pleased with you. Or with me, if we are married when he gets back. He might, quite honestly, decide to take you out. Mainly because he might prefer me to be your widow, rather than your wife. He has very... well, conventional ideas, when it comes to how yours and mine relationship should be. I think I've said this before."
"We'll handle that." He assured her, leaning his head closer to her stomach, pressing kisses there. "Any argument he has against us being together, we can argue against, because we love each other. If we are married, that's just more proof of it. Something physical he can't argue against. If we love each other to marry each other, he can't simply say... well, anything."
She sighed, shaking her head. He was being an idiot again.

"Well, I guess we'll have to see, if we get married." She tapped the top of his head. "Rinse."

He tilted his head back, letting her run her hands through his hair, rinsing the conditioner from his hair, until it was silky.
"There's a bigger issue we have to deal with." She sighed. "We've been dancing around it, all night. Wilson tried to make me talk about it earlier, but... I guess I was avoiding it because it wasn't right to talk about it without you."

"Juliana." He sighed.
"She's not like us." Brooklyn nodded, biting her lip. "We are going to have to readjust how we are going to do things, in regards to her upbringing."

Steve sighed again. "I know."

She ran her hands through his hair a bit longer, before stepping back. "All done. Wash the rest of yourself."

Opening his eyes, Steve watched as she turned, pushing back the curtain to step out of the shower. She shut it behind herself, reaching for one of the towels she had put in the bathroom for him.

"I was thinking... maybe we don't have to change that much." Steve offered, as the shadowed form of him stepped up in the shower, going about the business of finishing his shower.

She wrapped the towel around herself, sitting down on the closed toilet. "But she's going to need different things, than we do."
"Not really." He sighed. "Brooklyn, you have it in your head... that we are so different from other people. We aren't really. Yes, she can get sick. Yes, she can get hurt, really hurt, if she tried to do the things we can do. But... she's still just a little girl. We can teach her to protect herself. We can ensure that she knows how to do what she has to, to survive."

She groaned. "I don't know... Steve, she's just a normal little girl."

"A normal little girl who has seen more than most her age, if her beginnings are any indication." He insisted. "And there is no reason a normal little girl can't learn what we can teach her. Look at Nat."
"Nat?" She frowned. "Why would you bring up Nat?"
"Nat has no enhancements. She's normal. Just very highly trained." He continued to wash himself, and she watched the movements through the curtain. "I'm by no means suggesting that she have that level of training, because, honestly? I don't want her so highly trained she can kill a man using her thumb."
"Nor do I." She agreed.

"I'm simply suggesting that she be... trained, and god I hate that word, to a level where she can be able to take care of herself, when she gets old enough to want to explore the world outside of Brooklyn." He sighed.

"The happy medium." She groaned, reaching up to rub her face. "Goddammit."

"We do tend to go to the extremes." He pulled the curtain aside, to look at her, rubbing the water from his face. "She doesn't need to do that."
"Steve, she's being raised by an Avenger, and a Mafia Boss." Brooklyn snorted. "At this point, I would be happy if she went to college and got a degree in accounting. With our luck, she's going to be a hired mercenary, and takedown regimes."

"Brooklyn, have I ever told you, that while I love you dearly, you can be a bit..." He seemed to be looking for the right word. "A bit of a pessimist?"

"I prefer the term realist." she sniffed. "Finish your shower. If we are lucky, one of us might be able to get in a nap, before we have to either switch off, or she wakes up."

She stood up, going to the bathroom door. Reaching for the handle, she paused as Steve made a sound.
"What?" She asked, getting a little tired of him at the moment.

"You are going to leave the bathroom, just wrapped in a towel?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I've done it more times than I can count, Steve." She snorted.

"Yeah, but Sam's here." He pointed out. "I don't know how I feel about that."
She turned the handle, opened the door, and took a step into the hall. "Deal with it."

A/N: Closer, closer... closer.... Vote and comment!