I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

It beat at the inside of her head, and as much as she tried to push it back, as much as she tried to ignore it, the ache in her chest changed to a warmth that made even her toes and fingers tingle. The ice and chill that had seemed to settle into her bones, ever since the morning Banner had blown apart her world, finally seemed to start to leave her, even though it still lingered. For the first time, since that morning, she actually felt like the ice wasn't going to pull her under, the cold air wasn't going to settle into her lungs. And for the first time, she wasn't going to close her eyes, only to open them in another place, another time.

But why now? Why did he have to give the words to her now? When she couldn't trust them?

It wasn't fair!

She whined in her throat, leaning her head back as she closed her eyes, trying to push away the pain, even as the heat in her chest grew.

It just wasn't fair.

He was speaking from the Pheromones. He had to be. It was the only explanation for his recent behaviour. There was no way he could actually mean the words coming out of his mouth. He was desperate to stay near her, so his need from the pheromones would be fulfilled.

She wanted to put her hands on his shoulders, to feel the blazing heat of him sink into her skin again, but she resisted with all her strength. They hovered over his shoulders, and she could feel the shaking in her fingers

From the moment he had demanded she remove herself from the pole, to the moment she had felt his erection against her, she had been fighting her own need to reach out to him, to hold him, to soothe his anger, and to assure him that he was the most important being in her life. That no matter what had happened, she was still his, as much as she wanted him to still be hers. Yes, she was more than a little mad at him, for the way he had basically stolen her from the club. And she was adult enough to acknowledge that she had egged him on, both with the phone call, and with her mouth once he had bounded onto the stage. But really, she couldn't help it. She wanted him to go away, as much as she yearned to pull him close.

She couldn't trust herself, anymore, when it came to Steve Rogers.

But even as she admitted that, she knew she had to give in. She had to wave the white flag.

If only he had stayed away. If only he had allowed her to set him free. Maybe then she would be strong enough to rebuild enough until he was capable of being civil, and create a lasting friendship with her. Maybe then she would have been able to keep him in her life, willingly.

As it stood now, she couldn't let him go. He had returned to her, even as she had tried to push him away. If he had stayed away, maybe she would have been strong enough on her end, to allow it. But as it stood, he was here, in her apartment, and unless she reached for the knife she had hidden in the small of her back, there was little chance he was going to leave, now.

"You hear me?" He spoke into her stomach, his hands firm and unyielding on her hips. "I love you. I've loved you for months. I was... I kept putting it off. And now it's too late. I'm sorry. I should have... I should have told you as soon as I knew. But I was... I had hoped..."

"You don't." She whispered, brokenly. This was it. She had to tell him. She had to admit to it. "I tried to push you away, to save myself from this. To save you from this. Why didn't you let me?"

He shook his head, and she swore she could feel the heat of his breath through her sweatshirt. "I couldn't let you cut us apart. But it's too late. I failed. And now... I should have told you... I'm sorry, Brooklyn. I should have told you..."

She closed her eyes tighter, but it didn't stop the tears from leaking. God, she was so damn tired of crying. Somewhere there had to be a small ocean or body of water, formed from the tears she had been crying the past two weeks. "Why are you hurting me like this? Why?"

"I have never wanted to hurt you." His voice was rough, almost resigned. "When this is over... when you... I'll still love you. I'll still want you. I can wait."

Opening her eyes, she gasped for breath against the sobs that were trying to force their way out of her chest. "Stop saying it. Please, Rogers.... Stop saying it."

"No." He held her tighter, and she felt her knees start to give out. "I won't. I won't stop reminding you of it. Every chance I get. Every breath I have. Until.... until you are back to me, fully, I will keep saying it. Maybe then... maybe..." He gave a short sob. "Maybe... you'll love me back, by then. Maybe we'll have it all figured out, and you wont be afraid anymore. Maybe you wont poison yourself against me, again. And it'll be worth it, Babydoll. I promise. I'll make it so worth it. You'll see. I promise."

She lowered her head, forcing herself to look down at him. How often had she wanted him on his knees, subservient to her? Now he was kneeling, almost broken. And she knew this wasn't what she had wanted. Not like this. Never like this. She had wanted him of his own free will.

"I should have told you." she admitted. One hand came up to hover over his head, but she clenched her hand tight, to keep from smoothing down his ruffled hair. "I fell in love with you, a long time ago. I just didn't know what it was. I tried to consume you. I tried to keep you. But you were never mine to keep. You never were. It was a lie. A lie I wanted so much to believe in. A lie I wanted to live, because it made me feel... it made me feel wanted."

"It wasn't a lie." He looked up at her, his own eyes red and wet. Resting his chin on her stomach, the way he had many times before, his hands turned to soothing. "Tell me again. Please?"

"I love you." she cried, finally feeling her knees give out. "I love you. And I can't keep you."

He guided her to the floor, as she raised her hands to cover her face, ashamed to admit it to him. As she settled on her knees, she felt his hands smoothing over her hair, down her arms, and back. "Then why did you.... why did you cut yourself off from me, Brooklyn? Why?"

"I wanted to save you." She sobbed. "I needed to save you, from me. From everything I do. I had to do one good thing, with my life. I had to make sure... I had to protect you from myself."

"Never like this." He informed her, brokenly. "I never wanted you to... God... how long do I have? Before it takes effect?"

Confused she sniffed hard, lowering her hands, to look at him. "What? What are you talking about? I don't know how long the pheromones will take, to affect you. That's why I was... I tried... I figured if I broke it off, like I have been trying to... you'd be better off. No matter how it broke my heart. I had to be strong. For you."

He sniffed himself, before taking a deep breath. "The suppressants, Brooklyn. How long before they... when did you take them?"

She shook her head. "I didn't... I didn't take them."
"But the syringes..." He turned his head, looking towards the kitchen. "They..."

"I didn't keep them refrigerated." She finally touched him. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she let his heat sink into her hand, almost wanting to moan as the ice was finally being chased away from her bloodstream. "They were cloudy, when I came home. So I dumped them in the sink. I wasn't sure they would work, if they were compromised."

Rogers turned his head back to face hers, bringing his hands up to her face, stroking the tears away from her cheeks. "But you didn't take them? Did you ever intend to take them?"

"I was thinking about it." She confessed. "I thought.... if Banner didn't manage to help you... it might be better, right? At least then... we could be friends? At least until I fell out of love with you? I could at least keep you, like that, right? You wouldn't... you wouldn't cut me out, if you were safe from me, right?"

He shook his head, his eyes narrowing. "What was all of that, then? Sending my things to the Tower? Telling me you were going to give strangers dances? What... if you love me.... how?"

"I was trying to push you further away." She felt more tears leave her. "I figured... if I made it out that I didn't care... You would be able to keep yourself away. It had been almost enough time. But you kept... you kept pushing to meet. I was afraid... if I let you near me again, I wouldn't be able to let you go again."

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers. And she couldn't stop him. She didn't want him to. She opened under his urging, and the taste of him filled her, for the first time, almost feeling like it was breathing life back into her soul. As close as he was, she felt like she was thawing, the ice melting leaking through her tears. Salt, and Rogers, and pain, and her love... she tasted it all, in that kiss. And she felt like her heart was tearing again. Because it couldn't be true.

He wasn't her's to keep.

She was going to have to tear herself apart, to push him away.

He was relaxing into the kiss, she felt it. His body was starting to go loose, and as soon as she realized he was paying more attention to the kiss than to her movements, she began to push him towards his back. As he went backwards, she followed, leaning over him, the hand she had not moved to the center of his chest, where she could still feel his heart pounding against her palm, she grabbed the knife from the small of her back.

Bracing her hand against his chest, she pulled away, a soft sob leaving her as she saw his relaxed and happy eyes. He believed they were going to be okay. The dumb fucking idiot. He was going to keep coming, and coming, and coming, until she either broke down completely and went insane trying to keep him, or until she did something so drastic he had to stay away, if only because she had finally proven to him that she was the fucking insane one.

Best get this over with then.

Even as her heart was snapping apart again, and the ice began to reform in her veins, she brought the knife around, pressing the sharp edge to the beating pulse of his neck.

Rogers froze, his eyebrows furrowing as he brought his hand up to her wrist. "Babydoll?"

"You can't do this. It's not good for you. I'm not good for you. I'm only going.... I'm going to consume you. Because I don't know anything else." She whispered, trying to keep her hand from shaking. When was the last time she had shaken, while holding a blade? Not since she was a child, still in training, she was sure. "Maybe I should just get it over with? End you now? Save us both from it all? Maybe if I finish his mission.... maybe my father will come back. Maybe then... maybe then I can stop pretending I'm strong enough to do this on my own."

"Brooklyn... Stop..." he didn't move, barely even his lips to speak. "You don't want to do this."

"I can finish what HYDRA always meant to do." She whispered. "I can kill Captain America. I can free myself from this poison you call love. Before it kills me, before it leaves me an empty husk. Maybe then I can have my kingdom.'
God, the shit coming out of her mouth... She wanted to vomit, to tell him she didn't mean a fucking word of it. She didn't want him dead. She didn't want to have her father come back to her, with the blood of his best friend soaking into her soul. She didn't want to live in a world where Steve Rogers no longer took breath. She had lived in that world, for too long. She had seen what a world without him was like. She didn't want to go back to that.

But if he believed she was willing to do it... if he honestly believed she was willing to kill him, to keep her father... maybe he would be willing and able to leave, and never come back.

Making multiple mental apologies to her sister, because surely after this, Rogers would do everything in his power to keep her sister from her, since she was obviously a homicidal freak and thus unworthy of raising an innocent like Juliana, she tried to press down harder on his neck with the knife. But her damn shaking wouldn't stop.

"I have to..." She whispered, closing her eyes. "I have to...."

He tightened his body, his hand still holding her wrist, before going limp. His hand fell away from her wrist. She opened her eyes, just to watch him close his. "Then do it. Do what you have to. Because... I can't love you, and live with knowing that... I can't have you. I can't do it. I would rather you just... just do it, Babydoll. I would rather give my life to you, in any capacity, rather then lose you."

She couldn't stop the shaking. Why couldn't she stop the shaking?

"I just wish... I missed you, so much, Babydoll. In a way, I'm glad the last thing I get to see in this life is you. I missed the way you drool in your sleep. I missed the sound of you cracking your knuckles when you are stressed or uncertain about something. I missed how you always seem to have the most imaginative insults for me. I want to spend the rest of my life hearing all the crazy ideas you have, and are gonna come up with." She watched with wavering eyesight, as he swallowed, the movement pressing the skin of his throat tighter for a moment against the blade of the knife. "I want to give you that rose garden, Brooklyn. I want to know that you were going to be there, every night, when I laid down to sleep, so I could keep you wrapped in my arms. Hell, I don't even mind that you can barely cook. I can cook well enough for the both of us. I'm willing to compromise on the fact that you seem to think that pineapple belongs on pizza. Which, Babydoll, I have to tell you, isn't true. I want to teach you all about baseball, and why the Yankees suck as a team. I want to hold you, on my birthday, while the fireworks light up the harbor." She felt the tears increasing down her cheeks, as the shaking got worse. "I want to watch you grow, when you finally decided you were ready to have my child. I want to hold your hand, and hear you cuss me out, seven ways to Sunday, while you gave birth to our child. I want to be there, the moment you walked down the aisle to me, to be my wife. I want that life with you, that seemed so normal. The normal life you keep chasing, Brooklyn. I want to give all of that to you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you." The shaking was getting worse. She couldn't stop it. She was a fucking trained assassin, goddammit! But Rogers kept talking, his voice low and rough, but honest. He really believed what he was saying. "I was so lucky, to find you. I was blessed, to be able to love you. If my life is what you need.... I give it to you, freely. Because in the end, I get what I've been wanting. I get to spend the rest of my life with you." He opened his eyes, and held her gaze. Even through her own tears, she could see his. "If my life is what you need, to be free of HYDRA for the last time. Then it's yours. My life has always been yours. Since the moment I met you, I gave it to you. Because I love you, so much, Brooklyn. I love you enough to give you my life, if that is what you need."

She could see it. The life he was describing. The life he wanted to give to her, that he wanted to share with her. She could see it all. It would be so easy, she knew, to stop fighting him, to stop fighting the emotion that was beating at her from the inside of her chest, that she now knew was love. It would be so easy to just give in.

She tried to bite back the sob that forced its way up from her chest. Her hands were shaking so bad. But under the hand resting on the center of his chest, his heart beat steady and sure. It hadn't skipped a beat. It hadn't sped up. It was steady and constant. Much like he always tried to be. Curling her nails into his chest, she imagined how easy it should be to dig into his flesh and rip the offending organ out of his chest. But even as she imagined how she would go about doing it, her body physically revolted against the action, her fingers loosening their grasp on his shirt. She felt her body curl towards his, even as the hand holding the knife started to go numb from the grip she had on it.

Was it the love she had for him making her hand go numb, or was it the ice that wanted to fill her again?

Either way, she tried to open her eyes, and focus on the point of where the blade met his skin.

"It won't work, Rogers." She brokenly gasped. "It can't work. Not between us. It never should have, to begin with. It was all a lie. I made you... I didn't mean to... but I did... I have to do something to free us...."
"Brooklyn." His voice was strong. She darted her eyes up to meet his. Watching as they commanded her to keep them on him. "I loved you, from the moment I met you. I loved you, the moment I saw you. You are it for me, Babydoll. And I'm so happy to have known... even for a moment... the happiness of having you in my life. In my arms. I was blessed to love you. I will go to my grave, with my love for you on my lips. Your name will be the last thing I say, in this world. Because even then I know, that when I die, we will be together. Because whether it's in this life, or the next, I belong to you. I am yours. You own me. Body, heart, and soul. It's all yours. I give it to you, to do with as you see fit." Then the mother fucking flag flying dick faced idiot raised his head, pressing his neck to her blade. It cut him, of course. Because if there was one thing Brooklyn was good at, it was keeping her blades sharp. A thin line of deep red appeared at the meeting point of metal and flesh.

She hissed, her hand shaking, but she was able to pull away enough she was no longer cutting him. The fucking idiot! He had the full ability to toss her off of him. God knew, if he wanted to, he could break her damn wrist, to keep the knife from pressing against him. Considering how badly she was shaking, how compromised she was, it would be easier than sneezing for him to do it. Hell, he could probably snap her neck right now, and she wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

Because she was fucking weak.

She had let the damn idiot get under her skin. She had let him sneak into her heart. And as much as she wanted to keep him, Brooklyn knew that Rogers deserved better than her. He deserved better than to be chained to a woman who had captured him using illicit means.

Which meant she was going to have to turn all of those good things he wanted, to ash.

"I was with my father." She told him, hardening her voice.

"What?" He blinked, before frowning. "When?"

"In Poland. The last phone call, where I called you? He wasn't more than twenty feet away." She took a deep breath, trying to keep her hand steady. It wouldn't do to actually cut his throat. "I decided not to tell you, or Wilson. I spent two days with him. And calling you in to help him never crossed my mind. I didn't even call Juliana. I almost ran with him, when he left me. I would have. But he told me he wanted Juliana to live the life she was, right now."

Small lies, big truths. That's how it was done, right?

Suddenly she was on her back, as Rogers flipped them over, grabbing the wrist that held the knife, pressing it down to the floor. He stared down at her, before his mouth twisted, then he nodded.

"I understand." He sighed, before dropping his head, pressing a soft kiss to her bottom lip. "I know why you did it."

"What?" She shook her head. "What the hell?"

"You needed to spend time with him. I know you have been craving it, ever since he left. I know you needed to be selfish, if only for a little bit. And I know he probably fought you on coming home with you." Rogers gave her a soft smile, letting go of her wrist, to cup her cheek. "I'm happy you got that time with him. That must have made the two of you very happy."

She let her frustration audible. "Doggammit Rogers! Don't you understand? I was there! With your missing best friend! And I never even told you!"

"You were with your father." He said firmly. "And it was something you needed, since I wasn't there to take care of you. I have always believed he wanted the best for you. And if I wasn't there, then I am so glad he was."

She sniffed, closing her eyes. In one last ditch attempt to break him, to break her own heart, she gasped out, "He told me you kissed my mother."

She felt him still against her. "What?"
"After you freed my father and the other soldiers in Azzano." She shook her head once. "You kissed her."

"The only woman I kissed after...." He heaved a heavy sigh. "Private Lorraine."

"So glad to know you remember her name." Brooklyn spit out, a little bitter. "Like mother, like daughter, I guess. Huh, Rogers? Is that how you played it? You couldn't seal the deal with her, so you made sure to do so with me?"

And that was when Rogers had apparently had enough. She opened her eyes to watch as he narrowed his. Reaching out, he gripped her chin.

"Listen. I'll let you try just about anything, to drive me away. Because I know you are scared, and you are lashing out." He said very sternly. A shiver of anticipation ran down her back. "But one thing I will never allow you to do is cheapen yourself or what we have between us. I love you. I never had anything but a fleeting attraction to your mother. And yeah, it's a bit... odd, to know that I kissed her. But in my defence, it was a long time before you were born. And a hell of a long time before I met you. So knock that shit off. Alright?"

She snarled at him, bucking her hips, as she tried to bring the knife back up. Rogers was quick though. He grabbed her wrist, and pinned it down, while settling his weight on her. And goddammit, the fucker was heavy. While she was certain she would be able to take him down if they were both standing up, she had made a grave error in allowing him to pin her down. Between the height and weight difference between them, she was practically trapped.

Granted, there were a few more tricks her Papa had taught her, that she could use against Rogers. But those really were as a last resort, and only if she really was going for blood. Which, despite what she had been saying and doing, wasn't her ultimate goal.

She just wanted...

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to keep him. She wanted to be his, as much as he was claiming he was hers. All of the things he had been telling her, all of the images she had been getting in her head of what he was describing, she wanted it. Every single one. Well, maybe not the childbirth thing. At least not for a few years. Maybe not until Papa was home, and Juliana settled more. But it was a possibility. She knew, despite all his fetishes of it, Rogers would not get her pregnant until she indicated she was fully ready for it.

But the rest of it. The rest of what he had said he wanted.... It was possible...

If only she trusted in what he was saying, and not what her logical brain was telling her.

He said he had fallen in love with her, back in August. Before her pheromones had kicked on. And to be honest, other than a passing curiosity and the start of the emotional connection, her own sexual interest in him hadn't really kicked on fully until after they had met. If she wanted to look at this logically, it was a real possibility he was telling the truth.

Which meant she could keep him. Which meant he honestly could be hers. But still...

"What about Carter?" She gasped, trying to get her chin free from his fingers.

He took a deep breath. "What I felt for Peggy was... it wasn't real. It was a possibility. A chance. And yeah, when I came out of the ice, I was still a bit hung up on her, only because of how recent it had been for me. But compared to what I feel for you? How I need you? How much everything you do fascinates me? Its like comparing water to... I don't know... something not water. Only one is needed to survive. That's you. You are my water. I need you to survive." His fingers moved from gripping her chin to caressing it. "You are the water in the desert of my life. I would crawl through miles upon miles of sand, just to have a single drop of you." He bent his head to press his lips to her forehead. "And after finding out what she had done to you and your family? How could I even hold a shred of love for her? She was as false as SHIELD, in the end. I know she had her reasons, but when you compare them to what she actually did, what she allowed.... I have a hard time imagining a life with her, when she was capable of that. You.. you have killed men, while I've known you. And I would rather still stand by your side, because I know you are doing it for the right reason. To actually protect people. To protect those who were unable to protect themselves. You are what SHIELD should have been based on."

"Don't make me out to be a hero, Rogers." She snapped, a little irritated. "Don't put me on a pedestal. I am not the hero of the story. I'm the villain."

"No." He pulled back, giving her a stern look. "You aren't. You might have possibly been one, or at least been on the road to be one. But your reasons were better than most I've fought. Misguided, really."

She snorted. "You are fucking delusional."

"I love you." He almost shrugged, as if that explained everything. "And yeah, maybe I see you differently than the rest of the world, because of that. But I don't care. I love you."

"Are you really ready to do this?" She asked, feeling herself start to give in. To allow herself the small hope he was being real. To allow herself to start to trust him, his words. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"I just want you." He smiled.

She let go of the knife, bringing that shaking hand up to touch his cheek, under his eye. "You stupid, fucking idiot."

"Tell me again, Babydoll." He grinned wider, his eyes starting to regain that sparkle. "Tell me?"

"God dammit." She sighed, letting herself relax under him fully. "You are gonna be insufferable, aren't you?"

"Yup." He had his teeth on full display now. "Tell me?"

"Fine." She met his eyes, willing him to fully believe her words. "I love you, Rogers."

"Steve." He corrected, bending down to run his nose along hers. "Say it right."

"So fucking demanding." She lifted her head up to whisper her lips against his, breathing him in, accepting him. "I love you, Steve."

"There you are, Babydoll." He sighed, capturing her lips fully. "There you are. You finally caught up to me."

As she wrapped her arms around his neck, she felt the heat of him, the heat of her love, of his love, chase away the last of the cold that was in her. She might finally even consider herself fully free of it, forever now.

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

It wasn't long after, that Steve lifted himself off of her, reaching down to lift her in his arms. Carrying her to the bathroom, he kept his happy gaze on her, until he placed her gently on her feet, before dropping to his knees to help her take off her shoes. It was a struggle at first, until he managed it. As soon as her first foot was free, she rotated her ankle and flexed her toes, hearing things crack as she did so, enjoying the relief it brought. He glanced up at her, taking the foot in his hand, and massaged it.

"I'm still not pleased, by the way." He started, his tone light, but she still heard the undercurrent of steel.

"Oh?" She blinked. "Are we going to have a fight, now? After all of... that?" She waved a hand, indicating the last little dust up they had just had.

"No. No fight." He sighed, as he put her foot down and moved on to her next shoe. "I just want to point out, that if you were trying to hurt me, by sending all of my things to the Tower, and then bragging you were going to be letting strangers get off while you dance for them, it kinda backfired."

"I wasn't trying to hurt you." She sighed. "I was... I honestly thought it would have been easier, that way."

"Not to me." He asserted, looking up at her, his eyes hard for a moment, before he relaxed, and smiled at her. "In the end, we figured it out, though. But that still doesn't mean you aren't going to be getting that ass of yours paddled."
Anticipation chased the other feelings flowing through her. It was like a quick shot of adrenaline, injected right to the system. "Lemme know when you want to do that. I'll check my schedule."

He stared up at her, his smile growing. "Oh, I'll let you know when it's time, Babydoll."

She felt the disappointment. "But not right now?"

"Nope." He popped the word. "Right now, I just want to wash the club off of you, and hold you while you sleep. Because I have this nasty little feeling, that despite what you are trying to put off, you are dead tired."

"A little bit." She was willing to admit. Despite how long she had slept today, because of how she had fallen asleep, as well as the emotional upheaval her life had taken in the past twenty four hours, she was willing to concede that maybe she was a little tired. And the idea of being wrapped up in Steve's arms while she slept, letting his warmth sink into her and chase away any ice crystal that was trying to hide itself was a welcome one. "I could do with a nap."

He hummed an agreement. "And then, tomorrow, we are going to go get Juliana, and bring her home. She's really missed you. And there are things that the two of you need to hash out, as well. Especially if you saw you father."
"Are you really not upset with me?" She asked, feeling small for a moment. She kept her eyes on Steve, refusing to be a coward and look away as he stood up, reaching for the zipper of her hoodie. "I would understand, if you were."

He sighed, tugging the zipper down, before pulling the hoodie from her body, setting it aside on the bathroom counter. "A little bit. But not upset, so much as disappointed. I mean, this all could have been avoided, if I had just... if I hadn't let you leave, that morning. Maybe I would have been with you, and we could have worked to bring your father home. So if you really want to look at it, it's my fault you didn't call me or Sam."

"I considered it." She confessed. "When he was in the shower, after he found me. I kept pulling up your number. I even thought maybe... maybe I wouldn't have to say goodbye. But... I was afraid he would run, if he found out. And I didn't want to lose him again. Not like that."

"I understand." He bent down, kissing her. Wrapping is arms around her, he held her tight. "I know... I know it was a difficult choice for you. I know you want him back, but I also know how much you needed that time with him."

"I got a lot of answers." She nestled into his arms, enjoying the fact that she didn't have to hold back, anymore. "We had a few things that the two of us needed to sort out. But I still should have pushed harder, to make him listen to me. To figure out a way for you or Wilson to come help me. He was so resistant, Steve. So determined to protect me and Jules. He knows someone is looking for him. He's spooked."

She pressed her head to his chest, listening to the soothing sound of his heart beat, and the whoosh of the air entering and leaving his lungs.

"Did you tell him, about us?" He asked, and the rumble of his voice against her ear was so enjoyable. She had tried to keep from remembering the comfort she had found in his arms, when they had been apart. Mainly because of the pain it brought, when she thought she would never get to have it again. It still slipped through, occasionally, proving her right for the most part. But it was sooo good to have it back, and know that it wasn't going away, ever again. He was hers. She was his. They were in love. Somehow, this miraculous thing had happened to her, the one person she was sure that nothing good would ever come her way.

But it had. Somehow, and she still had a hard time letting herself fully believe it, this amazing man had fallen in love with her, and while she was certain that ultimately proved he was an idiot, he was her idiot.

"Not so much." She breathed him in, feeling a little giddy at the fact that his scent wasn't causing her pain. "Not in so many words. I mean, I told him I had been with someone. He wasn't too happy about it. When I brought up the possibility of you, Steve, being that person, Papa was... less than supportive of the idea. In the abstract."

"In the abstract." Steve's voice was calm, but she sensed something under it. "Who did he think was the man you had been with?"

"A Fucking Idiot Asshole." She enunciated. "That was what I had changed your contact info to, after the last call I made to you before leaving for Europe. He saw the name on the messages and the calls you were making, that morning."

"So he had questions. And you danced around them, as you are wont to do." He sighed. "But how did I, my name come up? And what did he say about me, specifically?" Steve began rubbing her back, and she arched into it slightly. Such warm, strong hands...

"I asked, if the man I had chosen wasn't good enough, than maybe I needed to find a man like Steve Rogers. You have to remember, you were the fairy tale, the bedtime stories I got. You were the example of how to be good he used, when he was raising me. Before they took you from him." She set her fingers into his shirt, tugging on it. She wanted to feel his skin, his heat, without anything separating them "Off, Steve."

"In a bit, Babydoll. Tell me more about what Bucky said about me, about why he didn't like the abstract idea of us together." He ran a hand up her back and tugged on her ponytail. "What were his exact reasons, for objecting?"

She blinked slowly, focusing on the sounds in his chest. "You did things. With other women. He didn't like the idea of them being done with me. That the idea of a man doing those things to me didn't sit right with him. On paper, he agreed, you were the right man for the job. But the fact that he knew what you liked... that was his objection." She began to knead his side through his shirt. "I pointed out, if I was married when he came back, he had to assume that the man in my life was doing something similar. I even asked would it matter, if I enjoyed those things. Then he told me about some of the things. How you liked to dominate. How you liked to be dirty. How you liked to spank and tie up women. He just found it disrespectful. And while he could ignore it if it was another man, there would be no way he would be able to ignore it if it was you."

"Do you, though?" He stiffened slightly against her, his hand rubbing her back pausing. "Do you enjoy it? I mean... I guess I knew..."

"I enjoy it." She pulled back, looking up at his concerned face. Reaching up she smoothed one hand down his face, comforting him. "I have enjoyed everything we have done together. Although, I was a little upset to hear that you had been tying up other women. We've never done that."

"I've bound you." He frowned. "It's just... I use my hands. I'm not even sure anything would hold you, if you really struggled. At least not anything I can pick up off a shelf."

"Do you want me to struggle?" She frowned, thinking it over. Being bound wasn't something she had really considered. Being bound meant that she wasn't able to move. Being unable to move meant that she wasn't able to protect herself. But she considered that. She trusted Steve. With a very few small exceptions, nothing he had ever done had hurt. Yes, the spankings could be on the painful side, but the emotional release, sometimes combined with the physical release was more than enough to make up for the pain. In fact, she liked the spankings, due to that fact.

"Maybe a little. It's more about the fact that I know you are giving me full control over both your pleasure and your pain." He sighed again. "It's not about... it's not about hurting you. Or contain you. Although, there are times I wonder if that wouldn't be easier."
She blinked. "Easier? Please explain?"

"If I didn't have to worry about everyone interacting with you... if I could keep you in one spot, away from the rest of the world, you could just be mine. No other person could touch you. I could keep you safe, secure." He went back to rubbing her back. "But that's the obsession talking. I know it's not a reality either one of us can really make happen."

She kept kneading his side, letting herself start to drift. Warm, comfort. His voice low and soothing. She could easily fall asleep right now, standing up. "Why not?"

He chuckled, and she blinked slowly up at him. "Well, for starters, Babydoll, we have Juliana to think about. I'm pretty sure she would be a little concerned if I suddenly locked you away in the bedroom forever. And second, you have school. I have my work." He heaved a heavy sigh. "In a perfect world, where we didn't have to worry about any of that? Oh, yeah. You best believe I would lock you away, in a heartbeat."

"Maybe we can do that sometime. Go rent a cabin on the coast, and just let you lock me away for a few days." She giggled. "Get it out of your system. Maybe even play a bit more of those dirty games that only you seem to know the rules to."

"Hmm." He nodded, before taking a deep breath. "This is not getting us any closer to getting you in bed."

She whined, but let him continue to undress her, before he turned on the shower and helped her under the warm stream. She watched from the water, reaching behind herself to pull out her ponytail, tossing the tie towards the counter, as he stripped down to his skin. He was erect.

"Do I get to play with that, tonight?" She pointed at his cock, the foreskin already pulled away from the moist head. She giggled like an idiot, pressing a hand to her mouth to muffle the sounds, when it bobbed as if it was saying hello. She could almost imagine it with little arms, waving and bowing, as it bobbed.

Steve looked down at his erection, as if surprised, before shaking his head. "Not tonight, Brooklyn. We have all the time in the world. And like I said, I think you are a little too tired to be fully cognizant of what's going on." he reached for the soap and the wash cloth hanging on the shower rack. "As evidenced by the fact that you are giggling your head off."

He held the wash cloth under the water, before soaping it up, then running it over her neck and shoulders. She closed her eyes, and let him tend to her, the steam making his scent stronger.

"But what if I want to play?" She arched her neck as he began to run the soapy cloth up to her face, before scrubbing at the makeup on her face. Soap got into her mouth briefly, as he worked to remove the lipstick on her lips, and she pouted before trying to spit it out. "Yucky."

"Sorry. No playing tonight." He used a gentle hand as he wiped at her closed eyelids. "Tomorrow, we can reassess. But until then, shower, then bed."

"Spoilsport. I thought after a nasty fight we were supposed to have wild, angry, punishing sex." She reached out blindly, finding his chest, resting her hand on it, kneading his skin again with her nails. "I mean, that's what-"

"If you say that's what your books tell you, I'm going to have to remind you that books are fiction, for the most part." He chuckled, taking the washcloth away and returning with it wetter and warmer. He began to wipe her face clean of the soap. "This makeup doesn't want to seem to come off with soap."

"Maybe because I practically have to glue it on, to keep it from melting under the lights and the sweat." She shrugged. "I have remover, under the sink. When we get out, I'll take a moment and use it."

"It's so heavy." He complained, before sighing and dropping to his knees. "I like you without all of that crap on your face."

She blinked, reaching up to wipe the water out of her eyes, blinking down at the dark smudges on her fingers. "Stage makeup, Steve. You know all about that."

"It's been a long long time." He began washing her feet, moving up to her legs. "You got waxed again."

"Dancing, Steve. Can't have pubic hair showing." She reached down, threading her fingers through his wet hair. She was finding it very difficult to stop touching him. He tilted his head into her touch, but remained focused on his task. "While you are down there...."

"Nope." He laughed, running the wash cloth up over her knees to her thighs, pausing as he began to scrub at the spots she had put the Dry Grip on. "What the hell."

"Dry Grip." She explained. "To help me hold the pole."

"Is that how you manage to stop on a dime, and hold yourself in place?" He asked, as he scrubbed the Dry Grip off her skin. "Cause, even though I was pissed, I was also impressed by that move."

"Partially." She began scratching at his scalp with her nails. "It's also hip and thigh muscles."

"Huh." He pulled away. "Do we need to wash your hair?"

"Not tonight. I did it before I went to the club. I can do it tomorrow." She was caught off guard by a yawn. "Sorry."
Steve laughed. "No problem, Babydoll. But you kinda proved the point I've been making."

He helped her rinse off, before turning off the shower, and helping her out of the tub. As soon as he wrapped a towel around her, then one around himself, he urged her to sit on the closed toilet, while he rummaged around under the sink, pulling out the bottle of makeup remover and the pad, as she instructed. She reached for them, but he shook his head, shaking the bottle as the instructions indicated, before wetting down the pad.

"Eyes closed." He instructed, before gently wiping away the makeup she had put on. "That's much better."

"Mm-hmm." She hummed, as she let him work. "Is this gonna be our new thing? You constantly washing me?"

"Maybe." He paused. "Would that bother you?"

"I don't know." She admitted. "Does it make you happy?"

Steve returned to wiping her face down with the pad, changing it out with a new one. "At this point, everything about you, makes me happy. The rest is all just extra happiness."

"How much happiness is too much?" She frowned. "If we take too much than what we should, will we lose it?"

HE chuckled, as he finished up wiping the makeup from her face. "No. Of course not. It just means we need to be sure we know we are happy. Even when things get bad, we just have to make sure we know it. Anything else, after the pads?"

"A quick wipe with the astringent." She pointed at the sink. "It smells bad, though."

He found the bottle, and she hissed at the sting. He paused. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, its just alcohol based." She braced herself as he went back to work, finishing quickly.

"I don't remember you smelling like this, when you come to bed." he commented, as he put the supplies away.

"I only really use it after I put on the heavy makeup. It helps get rid of the residue." She reached for him with grabby hands. "Come here."

He grinned, reaching out to gather her up, picking her up and turning to walk out of the bathroom. As he entered the bedroom, he paused looking at the messed bed. "What happened?"

"I didn't sleep well, today." She froze. "I don't want to sleep on those sheets."

"Okay." He gently put her down. "I'll take care of it in a moment, Babydoll. Let me get you in a nightgown, first, okay?"

Steve quickly found a warm nightgown in the dresser, slipping it over her shoulders, before making sure her hair was still covered. He went over to the bed, and began stripping it. "All of the blankets? Or just the sheets?"

"All of it." She shifted, wrapping her arms around herself. "I don't like those sheets and blankets, anymore."

"No problem, Brooklyn. I've got it." He piled the fabric on the floor at the end of the bed, before brushing past her, pausing to kiss her temple. "I'll get it done, just give me a moment."

She yawned again, as he went into the hall, listening to him rustle in the closet at the end, before he returned with fresh blankets and sheets. Shifting, she watched, feeling the cold of the floor on her feet, as he rushed to make the bed. It wasn't going to win any awards, but it would do for the night. He took a deep breath, as he pulled the blankets down, before turning to her, reaching out to take her hand and lead her to the bed.

"Why is it so chilly in here, Brooklyn?" He asked, as he urged her to sit on the bed, bending to lift her legs and tuck them under the covers.

"I don't know." She blinked. "It's not just me?"

"Not just you?" Steve bent down, tucking the covers up to her chest, before going around the other side of the bed, climbing in next to her, pulling the towel away and dropping it on the floor. She bit her tongue to keep from yelling at him about it, when he reached up and began to rub the towel around her head, before pulling that away as well. In the scheme of things, towels on the floor for the night wasn't a big issue. "No, Brooklyn, it's cold in here."

"I don't know." She rolled over, tucking herself tightly into his body, sighing as his heat hit her. "I thought it was just me. I haven't been warm since Poland. And before that."

"You've been cold, this entire time?" He shifted onto his side, wrapping his arms around her, relaxing into the mattress. "Oh, Babydoll."

"I couldn't get warm without you." She explained quietly. "I didn't ever think I was gonna be warm again."

"Hey." He reached out to nudge her chin up, meeting her eyes with a tender expression. "You will never have to worry about that, ever again. I promise, I wont ever let you get cold again."

She yawned, nodding, before tucking her head under his chin. "Thank you."

"Brooklyn." his voice had her looking up again. "I love you. I promise, we are gonna make this work. Okay?"

"Okay." She sighed, giving him a sleepily smile. Between the shower, and his blasting heat, she could feel the sleep starting to take hold. "I love you, too."

Steve bent his head, kissing her softly, before tucking his chin on the top of her head. "Finally."

As she blinked, her eyes growing heavier with each pass, she considered this.

Yes, finally.

Finally, she was loved. For who she was. Finally, she had someone who was hers and hers alone. Finally, she had a chance at the happily ever after, that Papa used to tell her about, when she was a child.

Maybe women like her DID get the rose garden.

A/N: Well, there we go. We are out of the woods, for right now. Hope it was worth it! Vote and comment!