#...admittedly a bit of a filler chapter but it was necessary for What Comes Next so

[banannabethchase]

Set the World Alight: Chapter - Also on AO3

Matt and Mox's final high school semester continues, Nick begrudgingly acknowledges he has Actual Feelings, and technically, it's not a double date. It's not. It's just ice cream.

~

Heads up: a few characters misgender Matt, but it is due to Matt not having told them yet. There is also some discussion about making progress toward medically transitioning.

~

Saturday January 18th

Matt

“What?” she mumbles.

“Get up, kiddo,” her dad says. “You wanted me to get you up before I went fishing so that you had time to do your hair.”

Matt groans. “Why did I do that?”

“Because you wanted to,” her dad pauses and gets out his phone, “make sure you can prove to Britt you can braid your own hair.”

Matt blows hair out of her eyes from where it escaped from her nighttime bun. “You didn’t have to quote my text.”

“Oh, I did,” he says. He leans down and kisses her forehead. “Have a good time, little lady.” He grins.

It’d been a little hard over the past week, their dad getting used to seeing Matt as his daughter. He’d called Nick and Matt his little men for over a decade now. Matt doesn’t mind, though. She feels like the world is hers when he calls her his little lady. “I will.”

The positivity doesn’t last, though. “Stupid hair,” she grumbles, staring at herself in the mirror twenty minutes later. Something doesn’t connect when she looks at her reflection, her hands and hair and mirror image warring with each other to make the braid a tangled, unbalanced mess. Matt’s in the bathroom for an hour and on her fifth attempt when the door swings open.

“Oh my god!” Nick half squeaks. “Jeez, lock the door next time.”

She fights with the braid, bobby pins poking her mouth as she holds them between her teeth. “No.”

“You versus the braid again?” Nick groans, yawning. “Move. I gotta pee.”

“No!” Matt says, hip checking Nick into the wall. “I gotta get my braids done!”

“Well, that can wait, you asshole,” Nick says. Matt feels like he has an unfair advantage, as he has both arms and hers are tied up in her hair.

Nick pokes her in the ribs, right where she’s annoyingly tickish, and Matt stumbles outside the door.

“Hah! Deal!” Nick yells, and Matt practically falls out of the bathroom. She freezes, arms in the air, bobby pins between her lips.

“You suck,” Matt grumbles. She keeps twisting, though, determined to get a damned braid right for once, or at least finish this disaster, until Nick leaves the bathroom.

“Oh, hey,” he says, a little smile on his lips. “You did it.”

Matt perks up. “I did?”

She rushes to the bathroom and the bobby pins tumble from her mouth. “I did it!”

“Thank god,” Nick laughs. “Now I’m not stuck doing your braids for another week.”

Matt adds the hair tie at the end, checking for bumps. None. The braid is smooth enough, no infuriating missteps or incorrectly braided spots, and she quite possibly has beaten her white whale of early girlhood. “I did it,” she says, doing a little happy dance up on her toes.

“Yeah, cool, next time don’t complain about me interrupting your bathroom time,” Nick says.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I kicked you out and you did it right without the mirror.”

Matt groans. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

Matt rolls her eyes. “Ugh. Only because I have to.”

They make it to school early, for once, but Mox is already there, concentrating as he spins a basketball on the tips of his fingers. He drops it when he sees Matt on her way over to him, which makes Matt’s heart do a weird little cartwheel.

“Matty!” he says, beaming at her. “Like the braid. Nick do it?”

Matt preens a little. “Nope. I did it.”

“Okay, well, I helped.”

“You kicked me out of the bathroom because you can’t control your bladder,” Matt shoots back. “That is not helping.”

Mox wrinkles his nose. “That – that is not a detail I need to know about my girlfriend’s brother, but cool.”

Matt can’t stop grinning. She’s somebody’s daughter, somebody’s sister, somebody’s girlfriend. It’s all a reflect that she’s her. They know she’s a girl. They know who she is, and she knows who she is.

She takes Mox’s hand and the three of them talk about school and the new semester as they make their way to the court.

“See you when you play,” Matt says, kissing Mox on the lips, then the cheek.

“What, I don’t get one?”

Nick’s clearly joking. She knows that. But Matt leans over and plants a firm kiss to his cheek, trying to be as annoying as humanly possible.

“Ew!”

“You asked for a kiss,” Matt says, shrugging. She tries to be as prissy as possible as she flips her braid over her shoulder.

Cole comes over, hair already drenched, for reasons Matt doesn’t understand. “If they get a kiss for luck, do I get one?”

“Oh, it’s not for luck,” Matt explains. “I’m just being annoying.”

Cole pouts.

“Okay, well, don’t do that,” Matt says, rolling her eyes. “If I kiss him on the cheek, is anybody gonna freak out?”

Mox looks behind him then back to Matt. “Me? No. I mean, if you lay a big one on his lips, yeah, it’ll be weird. But if it’s that weird thing you just gave to Nick I just think it’ll be funny.”

Matt leans over and kisses Cole gently on his cheek. “There. Kiss for luck.”

Cole beams at her. “I’m gonna need it!” and he jogs off.

“This better not become a thing,” Nick insists. “You are not, like, the good luck charm for the team.”

Matt grins. “Wanna bet?”

~

Matt should have bet on it, because Mox, Nick, and Cole play an incredible game, sinking shots like they’re in the last minutes of a championship game.

“You!” Jamie says, stomping over to Matt when she’s been subbed out for missing three shots in a row. Not that Matt noticed. Or would ever be stupid enough to comment on it. “Kiss.”

Matt blinks. “What?”

“You have some weird, magic lips,” she says. She half pats, half slaps her cheek. Britt, on the other side of Matt, looks baffled. “Kiss me, you lucky bitch.”

“What?!”

“It’s a lucky kiss,” Jamie says, huffing. Her bangs fluff up above her forehead. “Cole, Mox, and Nick told me that’s why they’re playing so well today.”

“I can guarantee, that’s not it.”

Jamie shrugs. “Prove it.”

Britt stares at her. “Are you okay?”

“No, because I’m sucking today, and I need any help I can get,” Jamie demands. “Matt. Please?”

Matt sighs. “Fine.” She leans in and presses a soft kiss to Jamie’s cheek.

“Cool,” says Jamie, lighting up. “Maybe now I’ll get some points.” She’s got the kind of grin on her face that makes Matt want to panic giggle. She doesn’t like Jamie, is the thing. She thought she did, for years. Matt had a whole sexuality crisis that Kenny and Adam had to help her through while Nick complained in the background, back in freshman year. But, now that she gets it, Jamie’s cool. Jamie’s the kind of girl Matt thinks she could be, with a little time.

Then she turns around and yanks Britt in for the kind of kiss Matt would feel weird about watching on television. She has to look away.

By the halftime, their team is up 24 points against a team who was undefeated before this game.

“You,” Nick says, “lucky charm.”

Matt shrugs. “I know.”

~

Nick

Nick is on his way back to the bench from saying hi to his parents when he catches the eye of one off the players from the year before.

“Eddie!” he says, clapping his hand and hugging him. “How are you?”

“Good, man, good.” He grins. “Figured I’d come back, see the boys in action.”

Nick turns to the person next to him. Green hair, a weird little pinched look on her face. “What’re you doing here?” Nick says, frowning. “You and Willow broke up.”

“We did,” Ruby says, and she won’t meet his eyes. “Look, give me a break.”

“She misses her girl,” Eddie says, elbowing Ruby.

“Do not!” Ruby says. “It’s not my fault she couldn’t deal with my new friends.”

“Your new friends are assholes,” Eddie says. “It’s a miracle me an’ Mox still tolerate you.”

“This feels like a conversation I could escape,” Nick mutters. “I’m gonna –”

Before he can run back to the player’s side of the court, the cheer music hits and Nick is trapped.

“Crap,” he sighs, and he plops down right next to Ruby. He feels like he’s betraying Willow by sitting near her ex. And then, he feels like he’s betraying Matt for talking to Matt’s best friend’s ex. He’s not comfortable, is the thing.

Matt comes out, giant grin on her face, and Nick exhales when he sees that she’s let Britt and Rebel do her makeup again, everything up to the nines.

“Matt looks,” Eddie says, “great. Really great.” He turns to Nick. “Mox bein’ good to him?”

Nick nods, eyes flicking around until they land on Adam, who is far up in the bleachers. He doesn’t even see that Nick’s on this side, with the way his eyes keep swapping from his homework to the court. “Yeah, he’s being good,” Nick mumbles.

Eddie barks out a laugh, almost louder than the music. “I doubt that.”

Nick turns back to the field in time to see Matt do the move that she’d been practicing on their trampoline in the back yard for two weeks. Double back handspring into a back tuck, landing in a split, bouncing her hips a little to the music.

She nails it. There’s no sign that her ankle, just a couple weeks before, was hurt.

“Shit,” Eddie says, “now I see why Mox likes him so much.”

“Okay, you don’t have to do that while I’m sitting here.”

“I’m just sayin’!” Eddie says, pointing. “Look at – Jesus!”

Nick fights the urge to kick Eddie. “Oh, my god.”

The whole team does either splits or some complicated dance move. Willow, Matt, and Riho do this complicated flippy thing to land on one foot, throw their legs up for high kicks then. Well, Nick’s not exactly sure what it is, but he does realize that looking at Willow’s butt feels like a big mistake with her ex girlfriend right next to him. But Willow is – she’s really hot, and Nick’s only a man, after all.

“I miss Willow,” Ruby says, so quiet it should probably be to herself.

Nick shakes himself out of his zoning out. “I would, too,” he mutters.

Ruby tilts her head. “What?”

Nick glances back up to Adam’s little perch. He’s got two books and his neck flashlight going now, but the books are flat on his lap as he watches Matt with a sweet little smile on his face. It’s a very different feeling than when he was looking at Willow, is the thing. It’s bigger. It’s blossoming. He’d been half hoping it would go away after admitting it to Matt and himself. Instead, it’s causing him to conjure up images of Adam smiling of him, of the times they’ve gotten a little too close, of what they could do if they got a little closer.

Stop it, Nick tells himself. Stop thinking about your best friend that way.

The cheer team finishes with Riho on top of this weird pyramid thing Matt’s explained to him a million times that Nick still doesn’t quite understand, and Nick makes sure he’s the loudest as he cheers.

“Got a crush on one of the girls?” Eddie asks, eyebrows raised.

“No,” Nick says, firmly. “Matt told me a long time ago they’re all off limits from my, quote, greasy fingers.”

“That’s kind of bitchy,” Ruby says.

“In that case, you don’t want to hear the stuff Matt says about you,” Nick says. “You should not have dumped Willow like you did.”

Ruby groans and drops her face into her hands. “Shut up,” she whines. “I don’t need a reminder, thanks.”

Nick high fives Matt as he jogs his way back over to the benches, ready to kick off the second half.

“Why were you talking to Ruby?” Matt asks, grabbing his hand and yanking him backwards. Nick stumbles. Matt forgets how strong she is sometimes. “She say anything about Willow?”

“Ow, let go, you Amazon,” Nick mutters under his breath.

Despite the fact it was supposed to be an insult, Matt practically glows. “Look, did she say anything?”

“Ruby misses her,” Nick says, glancing around to make sure nobody else is listening. “I think she’s regretting the whole…” He trails off, shrugging. “Well, you know.”

“Tell her she has to go through me, first,” Matt says, nose upturned. Nick fights a laugh.

“I don’t plan on talking to her again about that, but, if it comes up, I’ll say something.”

Before he knows what he’s doing, Nick glances back up into the stands. He meets Adam’s eye, and Adam waves at him, breaking into this massive grin that makes Nick feel warm all over.

Matt stares at his face, then follows his gaze.

“Oh, dude,” Matt says. “Are – what’s happening?” She grins. “Oh, you’re gonna – ”

Nick reaches out and yanks Matt’s ponytail, getting a massive shriek in response.

“Drama queen,” Nick mutters.

“I will annoy you about this later!” Matt says, and she jogs over to the rest of the cheerleaders.

“You always annoy me about everything!”

Nick’s slightly distracted for the second half of the game, but not enough to miss two three pointers and a two pointer, so he considers it a win. He gives Mox an assist for a layup, and Nick is pretty sure he could had heard Matt’s scream from the moon.

“Your girlfriend is super annoying,” Nick mutters as he and Mox bump chests.

Mox beams, then shoves Nick away. “Fuck off,” he laughs.

They play better now since Matt’s come out to Mox – it’s like knowing the truth about someone they both love has inadvertently brought them closer, made them real friends.

Their team wins, solidly, and Mox grabs Nick’s shoulders, shaking him with cheering. Nick’s about to say something, words he assumes would have been profound and smart and whatever, but then Matt comes barreling in from the cheerleader section. She leaps like gravity doesn’t apply to her, directly into Mox’s arms.

Nick is fully prepared to laugh like a maniac when Matt bounces off of Mox and falls to the floor, but Mox catches her and spins, kissing Matt so hard Nick has to look away to avoid getting weirded out.

He turns and runs straight into what feels like a brick wall. And steps back to feel hands steady his shoulders.

“Whoa! Hey!” Adam slides his hands down Nick’s arms. He shivers. “Great job!”

Nick stares up at Adam. And is suddenly struck over the head with it again. And again. And again.

“Yeah,” he says, grinning up at Adam. He can’t seem to catch his breath. “Thanks.”

Adam yanks him in, the hug enveloping more than usual.

“Oh, you don’t want to hug me,” Nick jokes, trying not to feel bad about pulling away, “I’m all sweaty.”

“I always want to hug you,” Adam says, in that serious tone, and Nick really wishes he could calm down this revelation he’s actually got a massive, unignorable, intense crush on his best friend. “Come on. Wanna get ice cream?”

“Sure,” Nick says. “We can invite – well. Maybe not Eddie and Ruby.”

Adam wrinkles his nose. Nick’s pretty sure he’s remembering trying to take care of Willow in between midterms, trying to help her study while she cried in the bathrooms. “Yeah. Better not. Mox, Matt, do you want to –”

Nick turns to see Mox and Matt practically face deep in each other.

“This is too much,” Nick says, voice higher than usual.

Adam puts his hand over Nick’s eyes. “I’ll shield you. I won’t let my – my best friend get harmed by the sight of his,” Adam checks to make sure it’s just the phone of them in earshot, “sister getting French kissed.”

Nick groans. “Why would you say it like that? Just – let me know if they stop making out, and we’ll ask them.”

Adam giggles. “I feel like that’ll be a while.”

~

Matt

“This is getting a bit excessive, you two.”

Matt pulls away from Mox and fights the urge to pout at Coach Rayne.

“Just congratulating my boyfriend,” Matt says. It’s undercut by the way she slides down Mox’s body before smoothing out her performance pants as she steadies herself. “That’s all.”

Coach Rayne raises a single eyebrow. “I would recommend you save that for home, boys.”

Mox squeezes Matt’s hand. Just like he always does. The reminder that, no matter how many times somebody calls Matt a boy, Mox knows the truth. About his girlfriend.

“Yes ma’am.” Mox adds a mock salute to it. “No kissing until we’re out of your sight.”

“I said home.”

“You can’t know the difference, right?” Matt says, doing a cartwheel over to pick up her bag from where Britt had dropped it.

“Thanks, Britty,” he calls.

“You’re welcome, Matty,” she singsongs back.

Mox grabs Matt’s gym bag and his backpack, throwing them over his shoulder.

“Grab my bag too,” Mox says. “I can get all three.”

“You don’t need to,” Matt says, trying not to blush.

“Of course I do.” Mox leans in. “I’ve got to be good to my girlfriend, right?”

Matt does a little happy dance. “Okay, fine, you can. But only because you used a secret weapon.”

Mox opens his mouth, closes his mouth. “I used a what?”

“You said girlfriend,” Matt says, grinning. “Like, that feels unfair. I have this big secret you can use on me whenever you want. It feels like you’re cheating.”

“I’m not cheating!” Mox says. “I’m being a good boyfriend. Supportive or whatever. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do.”

“Can you two pleased do this in private?” Nick grumbles. “I am getting sick of watching the two of you being weird.”

“You guys want to go get ice cream?” Adam asks. “Nick would ask you, but he’s too busy being stupid.”

“Hey!”

Matt sighs, rolling her eyes. “Nicky, please be less stupid.”

“When did it become gang up on Nick time?” Nick whines. “Let’s – I just want ice cream.”

“We should go to Hayward’s,” Mox says, sliding his hand into Matt’s. “If the Jacksons are going to be normal, that is.”

“Wait, what did I do?”

Mox leans over and kisses Matt’s cheek. “Come on, baby, you know who you are.”

Matt argues and sputters the whole way to the parking lot, where Mox half shuts the door on her as she slides into the driver’s seat of her car.

“I am not riding with her,” Nick insists. His voice is muffled through the door, but Matt can understand every dumb word he says. “She’s going to complain the whole way.”

“I have some hay in the front seat, but you can push it away,” Adam says. He grabs Nick’s arm. “Come on.”

Matt feels a little smug as she watches the two of them walk away, and gets her car started before anyone can be annoying anymore. Mox scoots his truck up behind her sedan, a little closer than he really needs to be.

Matt calls him. “Get off my ass,” she giggles into the phone.

“I thought you liked it when I got too close to your ass,” Mox says. Matt can practically hear his grin.

“Not when it has to do with my car,” Matt says. She pulls out a little too quickly, making the right on the way to Haywards. “I’d rather you drive like a normal person.”

“I think you like me because I’m not a normal person,” Mox retorts. Matt checks the rear view mirror to see Mox’s truck far too close again.

“I like you best when you’re not about to cause an accident.”

“I am not!”

“If I hit the brakes right now, you’ll rear end me.” Matt hears Mox snicker on the other end of the line. “Not funny.”

“A little funny.”

Matt groans. “I’m hanging up before I break to make you destroy your truck,” she deadpans. “Bye. See you in, like, five minutes, you big ol’ weirdo.”

“See you soon!” Mox chirps, positive as always.

Matt rolls her eyes as she hangs up the phone and a Kim Petras song blares through the speakers. While fun, she has to admit it’s not quite as nice as Mox’s voice.

“Stupid boy being all cute,” she grumbles, taking the turn to Haywards. “It’s not fair.”

~

Nick

“Hey,” Nick says, resting a hand on Matt’s arm, “you’re going to do great, okay? Plus, you’re, like, two months from being eighteen. You’re almost an adult. It’ll be okay.”

Matt fiddles with her fingertips, her typical tell of discomfort. Mox wraps an arm around her shoulders, but doesn’t try to still her fingers. Nick thinks that makes him like Mox more. “No matter what happens, no matter what the doctor says, you’re still my girl,” he murmurs. It’s quiet enough that, maybe, Nick wasn’t supposed to hear it.

Matt nuzzles her face into Mox’s neck, like they’re not in front of a bunch of moms and toddlers and other kids from the high school, and Nick resists the urge to get closer to Adam. Strangely, Adam makes the move for him. Their thighs bump under the table. Nick shovels ice cream into his face in hopes it’ll cool him down.

“Will they be able to put you on estrogen right away?” Adam asks, hands curled around his cup of ice cream.

Matt shrugs. “I mean, this doctor is great, and Mom and Dad said they’ve got my back with whatever I want to do.” She shrugs, half curling into herself. But I don’t want to get my hopes up in case I’m not eligible.”

“You will be,” Mox says quietly. “But no matter what happens, I got you, okay?”

Matt nods, and the way she cuddles into Mox makes Nick shovel more ice cream into his face. But this time, it’s to prevent him from doing the same to Adam.

They eat their ice cream and transition their conversation to the upcoming final games of the season and Matt’s team’s end of the season competition, until it’s three o clock and their mom is texting them to come home and help with the laundry.

“I would come with,” Mox says, twirling the end of Matt’s loosened braid around his fingertips as they make their ways into the parking lot, “but I really don’t want to.”

Matt stands on her tiptoes and kisses Mox’s cheek. “I don’t blame you.”

“I’ll come,” Adam offers. “I don’t mind folding laundry, and my dad’s taking care of the goats today.”

Nick drives with Adam, who talks the entire time about Chevron and her babies. Nick likes it – he doesn’t have to think, or worry about steering the conversation to something less intense. He just has to listen.

Matt, Nick, and Adam are folding laundry, putting away dishes, and dusting for what feels like hours, but their mother rewards them with pizza and their dad made pie, so it’s not the worst afternoon in the world.

“You excited for Monday, Matty?” their dad asks before diving in for a giant bite of pizza.

Matt nods, cheerful but restrained. Nick’s not sure if he’s ever seen his sister like this before. “And nervous. I wasn’t expecting to get an appointment so soon, you know?”

“Sometimes these things just fall into place, kiddo,” their mom says, laying a hand over Matt’s. “The universe knew this is what you needed.”

[refinedbuffoonery]

Looking Through A Window (5)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Admittedly, this is kind of a filler/transition chapter, but I have big plans for this story, and I’m really excited for y’all to read what happens next. Expect an update every weekend this month! 

*****

The nightmare sinks its claws deeper as Mac tries to dislodge it. He knows it’s a dream, and Mac tosses and turns as he grapples for control of his mind. 

The images in his mind persist. He's back in the Sandbox, but this time Bozer is with him, and Bozer's dying from a bullet wound before Mac can carry him to safety. Mac's had the dream a million times, and it always ends the same way. 

I know you won’t let me die, Bozer says. But seconds later, his eyes turn glassy when his soul leaves his body. 

Mac’s throat closes, cutting off his oxygen supply, and for a moment he thinks he’s going to follow Bozer into the afterlife. 

It’s just a dream. He’s just lucid enough to remind himself of that. Wake up, Mac commands his body. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. 

The nightmare won’t let him. 

Suddenly a different set of claws grip Mac’s shoulders, and the voice ordering him to wake up isn’t his own. He tries to jerk away, but the claws dig in. 

Not claws, Mac realizes. Hands. Slender ones, with long fingers. Nails biting into his skin through his worn t-shirt. 

He knows those hands. 

“Wake up,” Riley hisses, and it’s enough to finally yank Mac from his dream. Mac’s eyes snap open, automatically scanning his surroundings. The bedroom is pitch black, but Mac can just make out Riley kneeling above him, her tired face twisted in concern. Her hands are on Mac’s shoulders, but not pinning him to the bed like he first thought. Her touch is light, and her thumbs make gentle sweeps across his collarbones. Mac’s own hands find Riley’s forearms, but he doesn’t push her away, nor does she lay back down. “You okay?” she asks. 

Mac tries to play it off. “Yeah, bad dream. That’s all.” It’s a bit of an exaggeration, considering that he’s drenched in sweat and the final and most disturbing seconds of the dream are lingering longer than the rest. He knows it’s not real, but Mac can’t quite shake the sick feeling. 

Riley exhales, and Mac finds himself mirroring her breathing automatically. Sliding a hand down to her wrist, he presses two fingers into her skin, feeling the steady thrum of her pulse. It’s faster than he expects. 

Almost as if in explanation, Riley says, “You scared the shit out of the dog, not to mention me.” 

Mac winces, feeling guilty. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Slowly, Riley releases him and lays back down, leaving plenty of space between them. Mac misses her touch the instant she lets go. “Want to talk about it?” 

That throat-closing feeling returns as Mac contemplates what to tell her. Part of him wants to share, but a bigger part hesitates when the explanation dies on his tongue. “Not really,” he finally says. 

“Okay.” Riley says, pausing. “You’re wide awake right now, aren’t you?” 

This, at least, he can admit easily. “Yep.” 

There’s another long pause, filled only with the soft sound of their exhales. Just when he’s about to tell Riley to stop worrying about him and go back to sleep, she says, “Come here.” 

Mac stills. That weird tension still lingers between him and Riley, causing awkward silences and stilted conversations. So this…this is unexpected. 

He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. But, her voice is soft and reassuring, and who is he to turn down a free opportunity to cuddle with the woman he loves? Even if it might be a mistake. 

As soon as Mac scoots across the bed, Riley pulls him into her side, guiding his head to rest on her non-injured shoulder. Riley’s side of the bed isn’t nearly as warm as his, but her body is soft and Mac likes how they fit together. Mac can’t help but sigh in contentment as Riley lightly scratches his scalp, and he lets an arm settle over her waist. They’ve fallen asleep together plenty of times over the years, but she’s never held him. Not like this. His heart pounds at the intimacy of it all. 

But as Mac slowly starts to relax, the pulse in his ear doesn’t slow like it should. Because it’s not his heartbeat he’s hearing. 

It’s hers.

Does that mean…?

“So,” Riley says, breaking the silence. “It’s later.” 

The realization feels like a slap to the face. That’s why her heart is beating so fast. Not because of their close proximity, but because it’s later and there’s still that unresolved thing hanging between them. Mac’s fleeting hope that Riley’s racing pulse meant something else is nothing more than a fantasy in his head. 

Swallowing his disappointment, Mac starts, “Riley, I really am sorry—” She cuts him off. 

“Stop. You don’t need to apologize again. I forgave you the first time.” Her fingers sweep behind his ear, making him shiver slightly. “It’s my turn.” Riley takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry for not listening to you. Like, really listening. Your concerns are legit, and I shouldn’t have brushed them aside and followed Matty blindly.” 

Oh. 

“I hate this situation just as much as you do, and I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise.” Her voice catches slightly. “Also, I lied to you this morning, in the car. I knew I needed to apologize. I just didn’t know how to say it yet.” 

Pointedly ignoring the intimacy of the gesture, Mac brushes his thumb over her ribs in a way he hopes is reassuring. “It’s okay.” 

Riley tenses beneath him, and Mac freezes instantly. “It’s not, but thanks for saying that anyway,” she murmurs, relaxing again. Her fingers resume their path through his hair, catching on the occasional tangle. 

Mac doesn’t know how to reassure her that it really is okay. So instead he confesses, “Sometimes I hate this job.” 

She’s quiet for a few long seconds before responding. “Me too.” 

It’s weird voicing it aloud. They’re all painfully aware of the downsides to the job, but rarely does anyone directly mention it. Maybe Riley is on a similar page as him after all. 

Mac questions, “Are we doing the right thing? Playing along and letting innocent people get hurt just so we can take down the whole organization at once?” He needs to know her answer…needs confirmation that this whole op isn’t just one massive wrong choice. 

“I think the good we do outweighs the bad,” Riley says after a few moments. “At least that’s what I tell myself so I can sleep at night.” She shifts, and for a brief, exhilarating moment, their hips press together before she pushes her knee uncomfortably into his thigh. Mac squirms, trying and failing to find a good position, ultimately taking a chance by slotting his leg between hers. Riley inhales sharply, but she doesn’t push him away. Mac tries not to read into it. Lying like this is intimate and intense and yet so easy. So right.

Mac pushes the heady feeling aside, ignoring the way it crackles in the background, threatening to consume him. They need to have this conversation, without distraction. Even welcome ones. 

“Riley, we helped them kill people,” he says, and Riley’s hand stills in his hair. 

“We can’t save everyone, Mac." 

The thrumming in his body stops so quickly Riley might as well have dumped a bucket of ice water on him. 

His heart cracks as she softly repeats, "We just can't." Like maybe she's breaking her own heart too by saying it. 

He wants to kiss her chest—to press his lips to her heart in an attempt to soothe the ache there. 

Mac understands all too well. It’s not the countless lives they have saved that stick with him, but the few they couldn’t. Zoe, the researcher who drowned in the Arctic to save her students. Jill, who fell victim to one of Murdoc’s murderous games. Charlie, who sacrificed himself so Mac wouldn’t have to choose between saving his friend and saving hundreds of innocent people. Lasky, the nuclear plant engineer who was just doing his job. Mac’s father. His aunt. Jack. 

Riley clears her throat. "So, yeah. I think we are doing the right thing. It just sucks.” 

Mac agrees, even though he can hardly admit it to himself. But there’s still one thing he doesn’t understand. “I don’t get how Matty seemed so okay with all of this,” he says. 

“Come on, Mac. You know Matty hates this just as much as we do. She wouldn’t ask us to play along if she didn’t think it was necessary.” Riley’s fingers resume their steady, sweeping path through his hair, and Mac takes comfort in the gesture. 

He sighs. “You sound like Jack.” 

“I learned from the best. Don’t tell him I said that,” Riley warns, but Mac can hear the smile in her voice. 

He tilts his face toward the ceiling, imagining Jack looking down at them from whatever afterlife he found himself in. “You hear that, old man? She admitted to learning something from you.” 

Riley snorts, giving Mac’s hair a sharp tug. “Oh shut up.” She means it to be playful, but it sends a bolt of desire through his body. 

It’s too much, with her hand in his hair and their bodies intertwined, and the intimacy may very well burn Mac alive. Every nerve in his body goes on high alert, and his grip on Riley’s rib cage tightens automatically. 

“Sleep,” she murmurs, clearly mistaking the tension in his body as coming from somewhere—anywhere—else. Riley is one of the smartest, most perceptive people Mac knows, and yet she has no idea how he feels about her. Maybe that’s a good thing, he reasons. It’s easier that way. Less complicated. 

Although full-on front-to-front cuddling isn’t not complicated. 

It doesn't take long for the gentle pressure of Riley's fingers to win out, and Mac melts into her touch, letting his body grow heavy. Sleep beckons, and his eyelids flutter shut of their own accord as Riley wraps her free arm around his back, pulling him closer. Again, he thinks she feels like safety. 

In his last moments of consciousness, Mac mumbles, “I like this,” before drifting back to sleep.

*****

For the first time, Riley is already out of bed when Mac wakes, and he’s positive it has something to do with the fact that he’s still on her side of the bed. 

Cuddling with her was a mistake. Even if it led to the best sleep he’s had in a long time. 

Burying his face in Riley’s pillow, Mac takes a deep breath. It smells like her. He hears the front door open and close, and then Riley’s muffled voice fills the apartment. Mac can’t quite pick up what she’s saying, but he thinks she’s on the phone rather than talking to Harley. 

Suddenly getting up seems like a daunting task. 

Not caring if it makes him a coward, Mac stays in bed, taking the opportunity to study the bedroom decor. This is day nine of the op, and before now Mac never bothered to appreciate the work someone put into setting up the safe house. It’s too modern and minimalist for his taste, but he has to admit it looks nice. The bedroom walls are a soft light gray, with a handful of paintings of different sizes and framed photos of him, Riley, and Harley scattered throughout. More of the photos Bozer took are in the hallway, but Mac’s never given those more than a cursory glance. 

Across from the bed sits the single, expensive-looking dresser, with overstuffed drawers that don’t quite shut all the way. One of Riley’s drawers is completely open, and the t-shirt she wore to bed last night hangs haphazardly over the edge. 

Mac’s eyes catch on the photo sitting on top of the dresser, beside the plant he keeps forgetting to water. It’s one of the wedding photos, and it’s the only photo Mac has really paid attention to, since he stares at it every day while getting dressed. The photo is of Riley and him slow dancing, and she’s looking at him like he hung the moon. And he’s looking at her the exact same way. 

More than anything, Mac wishes it was real. 

The bedroom door creaks open, and Mac cranes his neck to see Harley’s fluffy head peek through. She doesn’t enter. Instead, Harley watches him cautiously, almost like she wasn’t expecting him to be awake and is now unsure what to do. 

Mac pats the mattress. “It’s okay. Come on.” When she doesn’t move, he adds, “I’m sorry I scared you last night.” His apology must be enough, because Harley jumps on the bed with him. She stands between his outstretched legs as Mac rakes his hands through her fur, scratching her butt the way she likes. “How about I get you a new toy to make up for it?” he asks. Tail wagging, Harley licks his face in approval, and Mac laughs. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Riley raises her voice—she’s complaining about something, although Mac still can’t determine what—and both Mac and Harley turn their attention to the sound. 

Harley looks back at him, and Mac starts to think that he wasn’t far off the other day when he noticed Harley playing protector. He smiles softly. “Go check on her.” 

Harley jumps off the bed immediately, surprising Mac when she glances back at him on her way out the door. 

Still smiling, Mac gets up to start his day.

By the time he emerges from the bedroom, Riley is playing fetch with Harley in the living room while she’s on the phone. Surprised the call has lasted this long, Mac raises his brow, silently asking who she’s talking to, and Riley holds up a finger. One second. 

While he’s waiting, Mac wanders into the kitchen in search of breakfast. 

Riley’s next throw ricochets off the wall, and the tennis ball hits Mac’s thigh. “What do you mean he’s not in the database?” she shrieks. “Bozer, practically every criminal in the world is in that database.” 

Mac freezes midway through unwrapping a muffin. 

Riley pinches her nose. “Then run the sketch through the DMV database. The guy who tailed me has to exist somewhere.” 

He swallows. “Tailed?” 

“Hang on, Boze. Mac just walked in.” Exasperated, Riley moves her phone away from her face. “I took Harley for a walk while you were still asleep, and some guy tailed me. Don’t worry, I lost him long before returning to the apartment.” 

Mac bristles. Riley had been in danger, and he was asleep. Why didn’t she tell him where she was going? He tries not to think about all the bad things that could’ve happened. “You think this guy is part of the Patriots?” 

Shrugging, Riley says, “That makes the most sense. But it’s hard to know for sure when we don’t have personnel records.” 

That’s just one of many problems with this op—no official list of known members of the Patriots. Mac and Riley have no choice but to learn about people the old-fashioned way. 

Pinning her phone between her cheek and her shoulder, Riley retrieves the tennis ball from under the couch, her voice muffled as she asks, “Got anything, Boze?” A few seconds later, she groans, but Mac can’t tell whether it’s because of Bozer’s answer or the amount of hair now stuck to the visibly soggy tennis ball in her hands. He makes a mental note to vacuum again. “Thanks for trying,” she says before hanging up. 

Treading carefully, Mac asks, “Well?” He doesn’t need to be a genius to know that she’s still rattled, no matter how much she tries to downplay it. 

“His name is Peter Morrison, and he has three speeding tickets. That’s it.” Still holding the tennis ball, Riley’s shoulders slump as she sits on the arm of the couch. Confused why she stopped playing, Harley stands between Riley’s legs and whines, nosing Riley’s hand in an attempt to get her to throw the ball again. 

When Riley doesn’t oblige her, Mac asks, “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” Riley says, but her voice is tight and she bristles when he moves closer. He knows she’s lying—they’ve both been lying a lot recently—but what Mac doesn’t understand is why. He knows why he’s lying, but why does Riley still feel the need to hide how she’s feeling from him? 

It’s like the intimacy of last night never happened. 

Mac takes the wet, hairy tennis ball from her hands and throws it for Harley. “Do you want a hug or help kicking someone’s ass?” The question earns him a small smile, one that makes Mac’s heart flutter in his chest. 

“I was thinking more along the lines of punching someone in the face, but I suppose we can kick them too,” she quips. Mac laughs, and the corners of Riley’s eyes crinkle as her smile widens. 

“Sounds like a plan.” Harley brings the ball back and drops it at Mac’s feet. “Last throw,” he tells her, knowing full well it won’t be. Turning his attention back to Riley, he asks, “How’s your shoulder?”

Absent-mindedly, Riley’s fingers trace the outline of a bruise peeking out from beneath her tank top. “It hurts. You grabbed it in your sleep last night, and I almost screamed.” 

Mac grimaces. “Sorry.” He wants to ask about last night and make sure they’re okay, but the words refuse to form. “I’m going to call Conrad and make him explain, okay?” 

“Okay.” Riley nods. For a second, it seems like she wants to say something more, but she ultimately doesn’t. Honoring her implicit request for space, Mac briefly squeezes her arm as he walks away. The gesture is a promise: I’m here.

*****

“This is unacceptable,” Mac growls at Ethan, later that day. After giving Conrad an earful over the phone, apparently Mac made a big enough fuss to warrant a visit from the leader of the Patriots himself. They meet in public—neutral ground—at a park not unlike the one across the street from Mac and Riley’s apartment. It feels wrong to use the term safe house, since it’s not as safe as they thought. 

“I’m sorry you feel that way, James,” Ethan placates. “It’s simply standard business procedure. I’m sure you researched us before formally offering your services.” 

Mac barely stops himself from making a face. Oh they researched the Patriots, all right. “Of course we did.” He really should do a better job of holding his snark at bay, but Mac lets it tint his words anyway. “But we didn’t invade individual members’ privacy or threaten anyone’s personal safety.” 

“My employee did not and would not have hurt your wife. She was never in danger, I can assure you.” 

“And how was she supposed to know that?” He’s borderline yelling, but Mac is too pissed to care. The more Ethan tries to convince him the situation is okay, the more Mac wishes they were closer to the playground so he could strangle Ethan with the chain from the swings. He snarls, “Explain that to me.” 

Ethan, it seems, is at a rare loss for words. Mac waits, forcing the other man to fill the silence. “I suppose she wouldn’t have,” Ethan finally admits, although he shows no sign of backing down. 

Mac stands. “Don’t let this happen again.” He starts to walk away, content with having the last word, but Mac stops dead in his tracks when Ethan calls after him. 

“If you won’t comply with the way we do things, then I guess we’ll just have to find someone else.” 

Mac spins on his heel. “That’s bullshit,” he spits. “You need us. You won’t find anyone better, at least not that you can afford, and we both know it. Your organization is small potatoes right now, but with our support, the Patriots could join the big leagues. So it’s up to you to decide whether you’re content with throwing your money at a pipe dream or if you want to actually accomplish something.” Ethan is taller than him, but Mac manages to look down at him anyway—something he learned from Matty. “The choice is yours. Let me know when you’ve made it.” 

Without waiting for a response, Mac shoves his hands in his pockets and walks away, praying he didn’t just ruin the whole op.

.

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[orbitariums]

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐭 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟏𝟒)

omg! this chapter is a bit shorter than most and it’s lowkey a filler kinda sorta i just wanted to show them hanging out together and show their lives 

next chapter is gonna be the same format but with a lil spice...

warnings: some smut, fluff an’ sweet domesticity :’)

word count: 6.1k

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧: 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐭 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

     You screamed so loud that Steve poked his head out from the bathroom where he was brushing his teeth to check on you in the living room, where you were cooped up on the couch with your iPad, your eyes glued to the screen. 

     “You okay?” Steve asked through a mouthful of toothpaste, eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

     He was pleasantly surprised when you turned to face him and you were positively beaming, baring your glistening teeth in a wide smile, your eyes glittering. 

      “I keep getting orders!” you exclaimed, referring to your all new clothing store brand that you had in the works earlier that summer. Recently, it had been taking off just how you wanted. 

     Steve discarded his toothbrush and bounded over to you, making you drop your iPad on the couch as he scooped you up effortlessly, hugging you tight. You squealed with happiness, wrapping your legs around Steve’s waist. He was such a serious guy, it was nice when he made such a grand, intimate gesture like this towards you. He smothered your face and cheeks with kisses, leaving the last smooch on your forehead. 

      “I’m so happy for you, doll,” he grinned, his eyes glimmering just like yours. 

The way Steve’s excitement matched yours just reminded you that he was rooting for you— he was on your side, which felt so rare for you. Steve was a rare treasure in your life, and you still couldn’t wrap your mind around how you’d found him. 

You giggled, giddy with excitement,

     “I’m so glad I have you to celebrate this with.”

     “Who would I be if I wasn’t your hype man?” Steve asked, looking directly into your eyes with a smile on his lips. 

     “Steve, you are literally my best friend,” you grinned, your heart swelling by how taken aback you were with how deeply he expressed his love. “Now time for me to call my other bestie.”

Steve grinned,

     “Does that mean I have to put you down?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes playfully, 

     “I mean, if you wanna give it away…”

     “Noted,” Steve rescinded, setting you down on the floor before him where you returned to your favorite place— right under Steve, with him hovering over you and keeping you safe. 

He kissed you sweetly on the lips before leaving you to call Aaliyah on the couch. 

     “Hey best friend,” she answered the phone with a trill.

     “Hi girlie,” you grinned, absolutely shining.

     “Ooh, someone’s in a good mood! What happened?!” Aaliyah straightened herself up in her bed, all ears. 

     “Your girl keeps making sales,” you glanced away from the camera as if it were no big deal to you, only to return with a big grin on your face.

     “Okay work!” Aaliyah practically screeched, jumping out of her bed. “Girl, you need to come back soon so we can get drunk drunk. Like, drunk. Just for you.”

     “I’ll be back, try not to miss me too much.”

     “You seem to be having the time of your life, though, girl. I’m honestly kinda surprised. But like, pleasantly surprised,” Aaliyah commented— if only she knew. 

She still thought you were spending your time in New York with family, she didn’t have a clue about Steve. You didn’t want to have to lie to her, but you knew it was the smart decision for now. Besides, it wasn’t like you were ridden with guilt— if anything, Aaliyah would understand your reasoning. 

     “I know, New York really is where dreams come true,” you noted sarcastically, earning a quiet chuckle from Steve in the kitchen. 

     “Okay, city girl. Just don’t forget where you came from,” Aaliyah smirked playfully. “For real though, I’m so proud of you.”

     “Thank you, my love. I  miss you.”

     “Me too, girl.”

     “So what have you been up to?”

     For a few hours, you and Aaliyah caught up over Facetime. She filled you in on what you’d been missing at home, and how summer and school was going for her, since she was trying to get into med school now. In truth, it wasn’t like there was much to catch up on, since it had only been a week since you’d been apart, you just loved each other that much. You had to hang up when you saw the time, since you had a date with Steve at the museum. You were glad that he seemed to be getting more comfortable taking you to the more public places, even if it meant you both had to be discreet. But that wasn’t hard, you were so comfortable with each other that you didn’t bother much with other people, and others didn’t bother too much with you. You were too preoccupied with each other to even notice much of anything else.

    You still didn’t understand how it wasn’t obvious that Steve was Captain America even when he was in his trusty disguise of glasses and a cap, considering how massive he was. You’d even noticed people staring in a mix of wonderment and desire when you were out with him, because he was quite the specimen. You never really got jealous, but you always found yourself gripping his hand tighter when that happened. Of course, he never paid other people much mind. 

    “You ready?” Steve asked, his back facing you as he heard you come out of the bedroom. 

    “Think so,” you chimed happily. 

     Steve turned around at the sound of your voice and immediately felt his heart drop to his stomach. He paused, unsure of what to even say. You were wearing a cream colored silk mini-dress, a gold plated necklace with earrings to match, along with heels. You were positively dazzling, even beyond your outfit— Steve truly thought you looked good all the time, but when you dressed up, you dressed up. 

     “Wow,” he breathed, truly at a loss for words, his eyes raking up and down your body. He was truly amazed by your presence— just being here made him feel like he was in the presence of a goddess. If you thought you were confused by how you’d won someone like him, you’d be knocked out by Steve’s disbelief. 

     You felt your cheeks grow warm at the way Steve was silently worshipping you. He looked so innocent, standing there wide-eyed in awe. It was almost as if he hadn’t seen every single part of you, as if you didn’t realize that his eyes were on you almost all the time— well, the latter was true. He never got tired of your beauty. You were truly timeless. But eventually, you laughed, shaking your head and stepping forward and taking his hands in your own. 

     “Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies,” you joked with him, reaching in to kiss his lips. 

     “You look incredible. When don’t you?” he smiled, looking you up and down once again. He gestured to your neck, furrowing his brows. “Where’d you get that necklace?”

     “This one?” you looked down, then back up, shrugging. “Think I made it.”

     “Of course you did,” Steve shook his head, chuckling under his breath. “Gorgeous and talented. How could I not guess that?”

     “You’re so corny, Steve,” you snorted, pressing your hand against his chest. “I love it.”

He smoothly maneuvered his arm around your waist so you were close to him, leading you out the door.

     “Shall we?” he pulled you close to him. 

      When you got to the museum, you both were glad to see that it wasn’t crowded, but not unnaturally empty. It almost felt like your circumstances were normal, and that felt nice and unique from your usual system. Steve never made it feel like the two of you had to be in hiding, but the illusion that the precautions weren’t so necessary here felt nice. Of course, it was only an illusion. 

       You were both always careful, but you were too enamoured by one another to let the issue of privacy stress you the way it did before. Steve’s previous anxiety surrounding keeping you both safe and secret had improved so much ever since you actually came around and lit up his life. He almost wished he had realized how much of a good thing this was sooner, then he would’ve had you right next to him ages ago. 

        The way Steve held your hand when you stepped out the car and all the way into the museum admittedly had you feeling incredibly special. He had you on his arm, but the way you were shining made it so clear that you were one of a kind, in a league of your own. You just happened to complement each other nicely, even perfectly. That was rare for even the closest of couples, so you were eternally grateful. You matched each other like chocolate and vanilla ice cream, explicitly sweet. You weren’t unaware of the eyes on the both of you as you strode through the museum— hell, together, the two of you looked like Greek gods, one beautiful inside and out, the other gracious, hulking, and strong. You might as well have been reincarnations of Aphrodite and Ares. 

     You had never been in this museum before, it was called MoMa, short for The Museum of Modern Art. Truthfully, you didn’t spend much time in museums back home. You were much more of an outdoors kind of gal, but you enjoyed being in this museum with Steve almost as much as you did day drinking at an outdoor cafe. The museum was undoubtedly fancy and sophisticated, making you feel right at home while you were all dressed up and always, always carrying yourself with poise. 

Steve felt lucky just to be standing beside you, and the two of you enjoyed your time together drifting through the museum, fixating on one work of art from the next, taking your time and staying close together. 

     “Isn’t that you?” Steve joked, pointing to a marble statue of a beautiful woman who actually did look a bit like you. 

     “You’re too charming,” you snickered, squeezing his side. 

He reached over and kissed your forehead, 

      “I know a work of art when I see it.”

You pushed your head up so you could reach his lips, pressing a kiss on his mouth, closing your eyes and shutting out the dim light of the museum for just a second, so you could get lost in him. When you opened your eyes, you and Steve made direct eye contact, gazing in each other’s eyes as if you were the only two in the room. Steve almost seemed to stand completely still, lost in the way your eyes glimmered like the water you spent so much time around back home. You knew you had him right where you wanted, and you gave his arm a squeeze as you bit down on your lip, hiding an impish smile. 

      “Come on,” you nodded towards the exit, gripping his hand and making your way towards the exit.

It was almost like you were lugging Steve behind you, the way he was following your lead like a helpless puppy. You had to fight the urge to cackle at how quickly he melted for you, just from a single kiss. Not only was he touch starved, but he was infatuated with you. That made matters even worse. Steve was a man with honorable impulse control, but when it came to you, looking so beautiful, kissing him so soft and sweet just how he liked, “control” was out of the picture. And now that you were leaving, it was clear what you were both getting yourselves into. 

You got into the car, eagerly settling into the backseat. Steve, on the other hand, rushed into the driver’s seat and was about to start the car when you asked,

      “What are you doing?”

Steve’s head nearly whipped back to look at you, and he furrowed his eyebrows. 

     “We’re gonna leave, right?” 

You just stared at him for a moment, judgment plastered on your face. You blinked,

     “It takes like thirty minutes to get home.”

Steve made a face, his eyebrow quirked up in confusion,

      “You don’t wanna go home?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that was tugging at your lips,

      “Can you just come to the back?”

He swiftly climbed into the back seat and you chuckled,

     “You’re so silly, old man.” 

     “‘S been a while,” he grunted. 

Your eyes flitted up and down his face, and then met his eyes. 

       “Need you. Now,” was all you said in a voice so quiet that it was like you were telling him a secret.

You made eye contact with Steve once more and he understood, Steve barely even had the chance to speak before you were scrambling on top of him, pressing your lips harshly against his and opening your mouth, Steve following your lead and doing the same, your tongues in each other’s mouths as you kissed. It was less like kissing and more like you were trying to compete to see how long you could hold your breaths, moaning repeatedly into each other’s mouths and only consuming oxygen through heavy pants. It was like you forgot you needed to operate normally, the way you were rubbing frantically against each other and abusing your limited backseat space. Your dress was jammed against your legs because you hadn’t pulled it up properly, and your knees were knocking against the inside of the car.

     “I wanna fuck,” you pulled away from his lips, only for him to pout at the lack of contact, resolving to kiss your neck instead, making your skin burn hot on the space where his lips were. You gasped from the unexpected feeling, Steve sucking at all the right spots on your body. He had you all figured out, from the first moment you got intimate with each other. But you didn’t get distracted from your main objective, pushing him away so you could focus, his chest heaving up and down below you. “Right now.”

Steve raised his brows. His face, already a flushed shade of pink from the abundance of physical proximity, darkened to a deep red. 

     “You… you want me here? Right-right now?”

     Your jaw clenched. Just by looking into your eyes, which had darkened like a stormy, grey sky, Steve could see just how serious you were. You were determined you were to get what you wanted, and who was he to get in the way of your needs? Of course, he wasn’t quite thinking logically, but there wasn’t enough room for logic when you were smothering him like this in the car, no matter how spacious it was. 

You nodded almost solemnly. You were like a cat in heat right now. If a switch had turned on in Steve earlier, then right now, a big red button was being pressed inside of you, only it meant “go.” 

     “Yes. Please don’t make me wait, daddy,” you purred, putting on your best angel face, and something stirred deep inside of Steve when you called him that, when you looked at him like that. 

His voice went soft and he nearly cooed at you,

     “‘M not gonna make you wait… it’s just…”

     “No one’s gonna see us,” you leaned in to kiss him again, and pulled away before he could deepen the kiss the way he wanted to, leaving him to pull desperately at your waist. “We’re parked far away from everyone else, see? And it-it’s dark!”

Steve smirked at your frenzied reply, consisting of one excuse after the other,

      “You really need this right now, hmm?”

      “Don’t get cocky. You need this more than I do,” you bit back snarkily, grinding against his very apparent erection, which throbbed against your center. You bit down on your lip, failing to conceal a devious smirk. “See?”

      “Yeah, I-I see,” Steve groaned, glancing down at where your bodies met in the middle, wishing you would take your dress off now. He regained his composure to ask you this one question. “Why so sudden?”

You growled, eager to get past the niceties of fucking,

      “Because. Now shut up so I can do my job.”

      “Oh wow,” Steve chuckled, raising his brows like he was impressed. “You’re very dedicated to-”

You weren’t kidding.

       “Stop talking,” you said, putting your hand over his mouth. 

      He looked up at you, all the amusement drained from his eyes, replaced by desire and awe. He felt inclined to listen to you, amazed by the new side of you that was coming out all of the sudden. It wasn’t like he always dominated you, and it was obvious that you had Steve wrapped around your finger. But this… this was different.

You kissed him furiously, grinding against him with expertise, making him arch his hips up just to meet you halfway, but you weren’t letting him give in to the pleasure fully yet. You didn’t have time to waste, and yet you had all the time in the world.

You let the tip of your tongue slide against his, then your tongue trailed against his open lips, making him let out a low pitched groan, his eyes half lidded at the soft but prominent sensation. You wanted to make this quick, but every part of you was savoring the moment. It had been a while since you’d done anything so thrilling in public, even if you were sure no one could see you. 

      Steve’s hand snaked its way up your dress, wasting no time. It took him a minute to catch on in the beginning, but now that he had, he was right where you needed him to be. He went to push your underwear to the side and the look on his face was priceless when he realized you weren’t wearing any. He was pleased that you were even more accessible, but at the same time he was shocked. He hadn’t been expecting it. 

      “You aren’t wearing anything under that?” he asked breathlessly, his fingers circling your clit immediately, the pad of another finger dipping into your slit with ease because you were already soaking. “Fuck, you’re already wet.”

He started pumping a finger in and out of you, hitting a perfect spot and brushing up against your walls just right. You moaned and rode his fingers, hips thrusting up in the air as you threw your head back. 

     “Baby,” you panted after some time. “Take your pants off.”

You watched as he hurried to follow your commands, his pants and boxers pooling at his knees as he sat there with his dick erect against his stomach, both of you hot and restless. You practically lunged forward, grinding against him while he worked to unzip your dress, pulling it over your head. The whole event was a mess of clothes being flung everywhere, your bodies knocking into each other and the car seats. It was a blur, really, and you remember crying out when you first sunk onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck and taking him smoothly, slowly, as he watched you with his mouth dropped in an o shape and his eyes glazed over. 

     “Fuck,” you whined, taking his length. It was one thing to be beneath him, it was another thing to be on top and be stretched out like never before. It was like a completely different feel and a completely different angle, and still perfect nonetheless. “You feel so good baby, look at me.”

     You forced Steve to look up at you, perking his chin up with your finger. He was shuddering, his thighs shaking each time you sunk down onto him. You were practically riding him into submission, and the thought made you smirk. 

      “You like this?” you cooed. “You like when I ride you?”

He nodded quickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed. 

     “Say it,” you demanded, inching your hand up his chest and settling your palm around his throat. 

His hips bucked up inadvertently, and he groaned,

     “Y-yes baby, I could fuck you like this forever.”

     “Yeah, I bet you could,” you crooned, letting your finger trail along his face, your nail tickling his cheek. 

     As you got used to taking him, you began to ride him like a pro, the movement of your hips syncing with his effortlessly, bouncing up and down and grinding on him all at once. No matter what you did, the feeling was unbeatable for the both of you, and you couldn’t get enough. On top of that, you had clearly taken charge tonight. Steve was enamoured by you, goddess that you were, and he wanted you on top a lot more now.

     Granted, it was the first time, but he only wished it could’ve happened sooner, because then he could cherish this feeling earlier. You took the lead with such ease, because you knew what you were doing and that was clear. Your sex appeal radiated off of you without you even having to try, and your confidence was just the cherry on top. Steve could tell you were enjoying yourself, shamelessly eating up his submission. You were being greedy, reckless. He wanted more and more. 

      Your movements were graceful and easy, your back arched to get that crucial spot for the two of you, arms wrapped lazily around his neck as you rode him like the perfect wave. He obeyed immediately when you told him to keep his previously wandering hands on your waist, watching in amazement as you led him, the captain. 

     You lowered your head down to his, pressing your forehead against his as you began to moan, and he could tell you were about to come by the way you squeezed around him. When you did, it was like an explosion. You nearly screamed into his ear, but instead bit down on his neck, leaving a bite that was sure to bruise. You kept riding him while you were coming, anyway, telling him to come with you and triggering his own orgasm, letting him fill you up with his cum. For a while, the two of you just sat there, Steve still inside of you, his head knocking against your chest, while you wrapped your arms around him. 

❊

     “I’m putting a looot of trust into you right now, you know that?” you pulled your shirt off, stretching your arms up above your head. 

Steve laughed, shaking his head,

     “No pressure.”

     “I’m absolutely joking,” you leaned forward to give him a kiss while cupping his face, lingering at his lips for a few seconds with a soft smile before you pulled away. “I know it’ll turn out amazing. But I can’t stay still for too long.”

     “It won’t take more than an hour, I promise,” Steve put his pinky out in front of him and you rolled your eyes before interlacing your pinky with his. 

     “As long as I’m with you, I don’t mind.”

     “Okay. Your bra is real pretty, but that has to go, too,” Steve said, gesturing to your pink lace bra.

      “Can you take it off me, please?” you smiled innocently, but Steve just stared you down. 

     “If I do that, you’re gonna try to distract me,” he stood his ground, and you chortled, cupping his face in your hands as you leaned forward, 

     “Steve, I would never. I understand the importance of the artist’s process. Here, I’ll even turn around.”

You turned so your back was facing Steve, your shoulders relaxing when you felt his big hands brushing against your skin, undoing your bra. You felt his bare hands roam up the expanse of your back and rolled your shoulders back into the all encompassing touch. 

     “Just trying to understand my canvas,” Steve muttered, his broad hands cupping your shoulders like he was giving you a massage. 

You sighed, rolling back your neck until you could see a glimpse of him, a slight smile on your face. You crossed your arms over your chest to cover your breasts, making an X shape with your arms. 

     “I’m sure,” you replied, and he lurched forward to plant a kiss on your lips before leaning back, gesturing for you to lie down. 

     You lay down on your front side, your back fully exposed to Steve. Rays of light splashed against your back and shone in Steve’s softened face. You could hear him cleaning his paintbrushes in the mason jar of water that was balancing on the bed sheets, the brush clanking against the rim of the jar and the water sloshing around with the bristles. Your days with Steve were growing more and more intimate as the time passed on. 

     Steve had finally given in to your pleas that he draw more, but he took it a step further and decided he would paint instead, using you as a canvas. Steve caught on fast, and you loved that about him. Whatever you wanted to do, he was down, and he would go that extra mile because he wanted to, not because he didn’t feel like he had an option. 

     You tapped your feet against the bed sheets to the rhythm of the Jhene Aiko song playing in the background, and grinned to yourself when you heard Steve humming along. You put him onto so much that he didn’t even realize the things he was picking up from you along the way. 

     “Alright,” Steve grinned in satisfaction, dipping his brush into the selection of paints on his easel. “You ready?”

You gave him a thumbs up, giddy with excitement. Steve had to gently touch your ankles to remind you to stop shaking, and you uttered a giggly apology while he shook his head playfully. 

     “Never had such a difficult canvas,” Steve straddled the back of your legs as you lay still below him. 

     “Shut up,” you chuckled, cutting yourself off with a gasp when you felt the cool paint against your back. “Shit, that’s cold as fuck!”

     “Language,” Steve smirked, and you barked a bitter laugh. 

     “This is coming from the man who was describing the ways he wanted to deflower my body in obscene depth this morning,” you clapped back at him, and he opened his mouth to reply, only to recede with a resigning sigh. Noting his silence, you simpered. “I win.”

     “Just remember I am the one with total control over your body right now. One misstroke and this painting goes from Mona Lisa quality to absolute shit,” Steve reminded you, waving a finger in the air. 

      “Mona Lisa? Someone thinks real highly of themselves,” you poked fun at him as he continued to layer paint on your back to create a light blue base. “Besides, paint washes off.”

      “I’ll lock you out of the bathroom,” Steve sniggered, much too pleased with himself for your liking. You swatted at him with a reprimanding hand and he dodged it. “Alright, alright. I won’t mess it up on purpose, I promise.”

     “You better not,” you murmured, already sinking into sleep. You couldn’t help it. You were tired from being worn out this morning, because Steve did do everything to your body that he said he would do, namely fucking the daylights out of you. And, Steve painting on your back was oddly therapeutic in a way, and the brush against your back felt like feathers from a pillow, lulling you to sleep. So, you fell asleep as the sound of the music playing faded away. 

You woke up to the sound of Steve’s deep voice in your ear, telling you to wake up so he could take pictures of you. 

      Your eyes trickled open slowly and you looked up at Steve who was laying on his side next to you, positively beaming. You smiled sleepily, the fog from your sleep starting to clear from the light Steve was emanating. His face was so close up, you couldn’t help but brush your nose against his and give him a butterfly kiss before kissing his nose with your lips. 

     “I finished,” Steve grinned in celebration, and in that moment you were sure you’d never seen him look so happy, except for when you stepped off the private jet and into his life. 

     “Baby,” you wrapped your arms around his neck and got up gingerly, so as not to mess up the masterpiece that was still drying on your back. “Lemme see.”

      Steve got up quickly and dragged the full body mirror towards you, standing behind it and holding it up, a proud smile glued to his face. You couldn’t help but giggle at how satisfied he looked with the results, and your heart swelled to see him so happy and actually doing some personal hobbies outside of work. You were glad you were with him, and you were glad that meant he got a break from the hustle of his everyday life. This break wouldn’t last forever, but at least he was getting one. He didn’t often do things that he actually liked to do, he was so worked up. When he was with you, he was free to do whatever, and you actually pushed him to do the things he enjoyed. 

      You turned so your back faced the mirror, and craned your neck to see the work of art. It was a divine myriad of colors on your glowing skin, a light blue sky as the base, a painting of the sun and moon on top. The moon and sun each had eyes, a nose, and a mouth, and the moon was hugging the sun, covering its right eye. He had drawn swirly clouds and glinting stars all around to truly bedazzle the piece. You couldn’t stop smiling, it was truly beautiful and probably the most intimate thing you’d ever done with someone. 

      “Steve, you’re literally amazing at this. I’m serious,” you prodded him when he shook his head in embarrassment. “I mean look, you know it’s amazing, you’re so proud of yourself! And you should be.”

You scrambled over to him, tugging at the camera that was hanging by a strap around his neck,

     “C’mon. Take pictures of it!”

     “Yeah, just—” Steve cocked his head to the side, trailing off, and you realized immediately that he was distracted by your bare upper torso. 

You shook your head, laughing to yourself, and stood up on your knees to pose for him. 

      “You can take some just for yourself, too,” you winked. 

❊

       You woke up to the feeling of Steve stroking your face with his thumb and kissing the top of your head ever so gently, the room dark except for the fuzzy light blue glare of the TV screen a few feet away. You snuggled into his chest, already laid up on top of him, both your bodies stretched out on the cozy couch. 

      You sighed sleepily and blinked up at him. He was fixated on the TV, halfway through the first Deathly Hallows movie. You’d fallen asleep somewhere towards the end of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, so you were quite pleasantly surprised that Steve let you lay on him for so long, and that he continued watching the movies. His blue eyes were unmoving, glued to the screen and thoroughly engaged in the story. You smiled below him and poked his chest, making him glance down at you with an unassuming “hmm?” sound. 

      “How long have I been asleep?”

      “A long time,” Steve smooched your forehead, then your nose, and then your lips, suffocating you with his kisses. “How are you feeling?”

     “Not as sleepy. We stayed up way too late last night,” you reminded him, and he shrugged. 

      “At least I’m almost finished,” he said, referring to the Harry Potter movies that you had stayed up late last night to continue. 

     “We gotta figure out your Hogwarts house,” you squinted up at him, making the calculations in your head. “I think you’re a Gryffindor. I am too.”

     “Gryffindor, Hufflepuff… it’s all the same, isn’t it?” Steve sighed, and you gasped, sitting up on his lap and looking at him, appalled,

      “Steve! Have you learned nothing from the past seven movies?”

He cackled, shaking his head,

      “I’m kidding. I think so too, doll.”

You pushed his chest with a dramatic pout, 

      “Nevermind, asshole, you’re definitely a Slytherin.”

      “Hey, I don’t wanna be a bad guy!”

      “Boo fucking hoo,” you droned. “You get to be a hero all the goddamn time, take your Slytherin house placement and go. Also, you clearly haven’t been paying attention! Not all Slytherins are bad.”

      “I’ll take being an Avenger over being a Slytherin any day,” Steve noted casually, and you couldn’t help but grin at the side note. You positioned yourself on his lap so you were straddling him and he put his hands around your waist almost reflexively. 

      “Yeah?”

      “Of course,” Steve insisted. “My job is tough but, someone’s gotta do it.”

     “You ever wish you weren’t like this? I mean… if you’d known things would turn out the way they did…”

You bit your lip in anticipation as you waited for Steve’s answer, because he was taking a while to think about it. You hoped you weren’t pushing a boundary here by asking this question, but Steve knew you had good intentions, and you knew him long enough to know that he wouldn’t be afraid to answer you.

     He finally found it in him to give you a cohesive answer. He truly had to think, because it wasn’t a feeling he could quite put into words. People thought Steve was this stonelike, serious guy, but he was mainly just pensive. He was still the same Steve he’d always been, even before the serum, even before he became a figure of fame. Now, people just happened to take him a whole lot more seriously. People admired him. But all the while, he was still grieving, still trying to figure out his footing in this world. Now that he was with you, the process was going along much smoother. 

He clasped your hands, bringing your interlaced fingers to his lips,

     “I’ve been through a lot. And it’s hard for me to face things head on sometimes, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. I have to admit, though, it really has been nice just… being unseen. Just for a few days, being unknown by the world. Under the radar, I guess. I get to just be Steve, not Captain. And don’t get me wrong, I’d never complain about my responsibilities. I’m just a private person. I’m not in this for the fame and the attention. That’s the only thing I’d ever change. I just want to do what’s right. I don’t need the praise.”

     You nodded, completely understanding. Whenever you and Steve had these deep conversations, you were glad, because you really both listened to each other. You said exactly what was on your minds without fearing judgment. You had kind of expected that to be Steve’s answer, the way he cherished his privacy and didn’t seem to care much for the frills attached to his honorable job. 

     Notoriety wasn’t Steve’s goal, in fact he figured he’d be better off without it. He was grateful for his work, but he didn’t need the fans and worship that came with it. You could honestly never grow tired of Steve talking about himself— his past, his present, his job, his fears. He hardly talked about himself anyway, he was always engulfed in one thing or another. You liked pulling things out of him, not because you wanted to be intrusive, but because you knew it’d be good for him. Besides, how would you get along if you didn’t truly know each other?

As he spoke, you nodded, taking in each and every word. You let your fingernails lightly scratch his face, trailing along his perfect superhuman skin, lulling him without even realizing it. 

     “I get that. You could be Steve Rogers and just save lives, and live just how you want to.”

     “Yeah,” Steve smiled, gazing up into your eyes, the movie long forgotten in the background. He placed his hands on your hips as if to keep you in place where you were, locking you in like you belonged here and here only. “What about you? Would you change anything?”

      You cocked your head with a small smile. You hadn’t been expecting him to ask about you, and it honestly wasn’t something you thought of quite a lot. Maybe if you were still hurting, you’d say yes. But, because your whole life had brought you to this point, here with him and happy with yourself, you couldn’t. 

You shook your head, biting down on your lip, your smile expanding,

     “No. I wouldn’t. I’m actually kind of content now. Healing’s a long process, but it’s worth it. And I’m with you, so it’s all worth it.”

Steve’s eyes glimmered when you said that, and his fingers dung deeper into your hips.

        “Think this is probably the happiest I’ve ever been,” Steve said, and god, he didn’t know how much that meant to you.

tags later!