two
"all that surrounds them is silence"

Perching on the stool at his breakfast bar, wrapped in the blanket to starve away the cold, watching him cook left Lusine to wonder just why she'd ever chanced leaving in the first place. In fact, it almost felt as if she'd never been gone.

It would've been that way if there wasn't an unacknowledged wedge sitting between them.

"Don't you have missions to complete today, Steve?" She asks, one hand protruding through the blanket to hold the mug of tea.

"Not today," He replies, leaning against the counter to face her as if this had always been their morning routine. A spatula in one hand, greased by bacon fat. "It's my day off."

"So, no work?" She rests her chin on her fist, head tilting as she tries to reach an understanding of his life.

"No work."

The bacon spits and hisses in the pan, demanding attention. He turns it over.

"Does that mean that you wouldn't object to spending the day with me?" As soon as she'd asked, Lusine lifts the mug and takes a drink to hide the smile burning at her mouth. She can see him over the mug with his upturned smile and glinting eyes that tells her that he knows exactly what she's concealing.

There were few people who could make her feel like a young girl again. Bring blushes to cheeks and coy smiles to lips used to frowns, scowls and thunder clouds. Undeniably, it was a lovely feeling. One she was never pleased to see leave.

"No objections, Your Honour," He says and Lusine can't tell if he's just being friendly or trying to flirt. Between the flicker in his eyes and the light embarrassment brushing the tips of his ears after he's said it, she's pretty sure this is his attempt at flirting.

Her lips curve into a smile, revealing her rows of perfect white teeth.

He wasn't sure he'd ever seen her smile like that before. Maybe it was born of relief, or maybe it was a simple result of happiness, but, either way, she was beautiful in the colours of that expression.

"Thank you," Lusine says as he places the plate of food in front of her and walks around to take the seat beside her at the breakfast bar, scratched by years of use long before he'd ever moved in. "So, what is this?" She asks, lifting the sandwich and peering closer for a better look. "Some kind of meat inside thin bead?"

"It's a bacon sandwich," He explains, not quite believing that Lusine had never seen it before, let alone eaten it. "Comes from pigs."

"Pigs?" Her eyes ignite with curiosity. "You eat those creatures?"

"Some people do, yeah," Steve says, waiting for her to take the first bite.

She hums in response before she takes a small bite and chews, but still isn't convinced she likes it, though that could be to do with the fact it's a little burnt.

"It's weird," She tells him, making her verdict as she finishes the first half. "Weird, but I like it. Thank you for making me some food. I guess I was hungrier than I thought I was."

"Anytime, anytime." He cleans off his sandwich and licks his fingers, savouring the taste. "Do you want anything else?"

"That depends on what you're offering," Lusine quips back, one dark brow flicking up as she turns her eyes steadily onto him, wondering how far she could push the boat out.

"Another drink?" He asks and scratches the back of his neck, clearly understanding but knowing that she also, very likely, didn't mean it.

"That would be great, thank you," She replies. As he stands, she happily tucks back into the remainder of her breakfast, overcoming the undercurrent burnt taste. He takes her cold tea away, tips the remnants down the sink and refills the mug.

"So," he says, putting the mug down, for which she thanks him with a flash of a smile, "is Agent Radcliffe back too?"

The smile slides off her face and drops into the steaming tea. Her eyes dart away from him. "No, she remains on Asgard to complete her training," She says, running her fingertip around the rim of the mug, silently searching its depths for the carelessness she'd held only for a brief moment in time.

"You're not going to leave again, are you?" Steve asks, his question out before he can reign it back. He didn't want to say goodbye to her and not know when he'd see her again so soon after she'd returned. He wasn't sure he could wait for her like that again.

For the time the letters were arriving every other day, the waiting wasn't so bad. When he read the letters, it provided comfort. Like she was right there. But when those letters abruptly stopped, and he was left in the dark as to why, the waiting had been one of the worst things he'd ever had to do, even if he was keeping busy between training and missions.

It was at night when it got worse. When he was left to wonder and his mind spun webs of scenarios, each one dastardlier than the last. Not knowing if she was dead or alive. Hoping for the latter, fearing for the first.

"No," Lusine replies, still staring intently down, unable to meet those undoing eyes, "I'm not. There's only so much of Asgard I can take these days. I didn't even tell her I was leaving, I just did it after a battle where I realised I couldn't be in that environment any longer. So, I made my plans to leave, wrote her a letter of apology, and departed." She looks up, meeting his vision, which she'd felt locked onto her through her every word. "I'm just extremely lucky Earth is a welcoming home for me to return to."

"I'm sorry things didn't work out for your training with Miss Radcliffe, but maybe it's for the best. There're other people who can help her. She's not your responsibility. Never was and never will be," He tells her, reaching across to place a hand on her shoulder comfortingly, but all his fingers met was skin and bone.

Lusine's throat visibly bobs as she lifts a hand to his and pulls his from her shoulder, just holding it on the bar between them. Her fingers spread open his palm and begin tracing symbols, running along the lines of his hand as if she was reading them like a book, reaching into his soul with a single touch.

"I know," she says at last, "but I can't help feeling guilty. I promised her I would help her find control and I failed. There's no excuses for that."

"Almost dying is a pretty good excuse, if you ask me," Steve says, knowing being honest with her was the only right course of action. Lying to a liar would never work the way he wanted it to. "You have to help yourself first."

Lusine brushes her index finger along his thumb and across the life line of his palm. "Believe me, I'm trying," She promises, but the wry smile that twists across her mouth tells of a predicted failure. As if she expects life to break her to crumbling ruins as soon as she starts to rebuild. "I want to try."

"That's all you can do." He watches her carefully, but she doesn't seem to pull back behind her castle walls just yet. "That's all anyone can ever ask of you."

Lusine nods in agreement. With her free hand, she drinks her tea, as well as the comfortable silence between them as she fiddles with his fingers absentmindedly. Her hands were rough. Worn by years of fighting, by fist and by weapon, and every one of those story-telling lines fold against his palm, the lore soaking in, as she presses her hand flat against his.

That scar born of a mother's hand is raw against his flesh, screaming in agony.

But all that surrounds them is silence.

-

-

With her legs curled beneath her, the previously discarded blanket pulled to her chin, Lusine lets herself sink into the sofa after a long day of exploring the city with Steve. He'd taken the time to show her around, to show her how to walk from his apartment to her own, to show her the way to the local park, and to show her how to work the CD player, which she'd taken great interest in.

It currently played softly in the space between them as they sat on opposite sides. Singing beautiful love songs and emitting pretty little symphonies.

Lusine glances over to him as he turns the page of he newspaper he'd picked up on their way back from the park, his leg crossed over and his foot tapping to the music.

Sleepily, she shuffles across the couch, blanket coming with her. As she rests back onto the cushions, he looks to her.

"You don't have to sit so far away from me," She tells him, jest dripping from her words in drops of lemon sugar. "I'm not going to break."

"I know, I just thought—" He begins, but she cuts him off.

"Steve, it's okay. I appreciate it, honestly, but please give me a rest from being treated like I'm about to shatter," She says, her cheek flush against the cushions, blanket to her chin, but a thin smile poking over its woollen top.

A glint crosses her mischievous eyes like a shooting star between thick lashes. She shifts even closer, the blanket dropping, as she grabs his wrist and loops it over her shoulders.

As she settles, her head nestling into his chest, she laughs and cranes her neck to look up at him. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" She asks jokingly, her laugh vibrating through his body, rattling his lungs as his breath caught.

"No," he replies, his hand dropping onto her shoulder and thumb beginning to rub circles into her skin, "not at all."

Lusine tries to read a few of the articles from where she lies, but quickly her eyes grow heavy and her eyelids close, sending her drifting away into sleep. When Steve turns the page, she jolts awake again.

"Sorry, I guess I'm more tired then I thought I was," She apologises, rubbing her eyes with her fist and sitting up to try to stay awake for longer.

"If you want to sleep, you can just use my bed," Steve offers innocently, but quickly realises how it sounded when Lusine's eyebrows raise and a quirked smile wanders sleepily onto her mouth.

Though she was definitely thinking of a dirtier suggestion, she made no comment on such as she replies, "That would be great actually, thank you."

Steve rises from the couch first and Lusine follows, wrapping the blanket around herself like a cloak, as he shows her to the bedroom. Courteously, he opens he door for her and she enters. She hadn't expected much, but this was nothing to complain about. A small room with a bed pushed against the wall, a bedside table with a lamp, an alarm clock and a half-read book, and a dresser with a mirror hung over the top.

Without a second thought, Lusine crosses the room, pulls back the covers and climbs in. Instantly, she's overcome with the scent of him as she pulls the covers up to her chin, fingers curling beneath her jaw as he lingers in the doorway, her eyes staring at him through the dark.

"Thank you, again, Steve," She says, though her voice is much quieter, muffled by the quilt.

"It's no trouble." His hand rests on the handle. "Sleep well," He says politely, drawing the door closed on his way out.

-
1970 words
9.9.18

Who doesn't love a cuddle every now and then?