touches

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He's not sure when exactly he realised that Diana was a very touchy person, but he knows that he's known for a while now. It doesn't surprise him anymore when she reaches for his hand silently or throws her ankle over his. At this point, it's just how she is to him. He does remember—albeit very vaguely—when it used to bother him. He'd get uncomfortable if she grabbed his hand in public or he'd try and brush her off if she ever attempted to loop her arm through his. Etta scolded him every time.

"She's a very pretty woman, Steve Trevor," she would say, shaking a finger at him as they hid in a corner. "You'd be lucky to have her."

Eventually though, the touches stopped bothering him and he found himself reciprocating them in some form or another. When Diana's hand brushed across his back as she passed him, he'd snag it and kiss her fingers before she pulled away. When he saw her at work, he'd rub her arm gently in passing and—if no one was looking—press a kiss to her temple.

He realises now it's because she'd grown up in a community so keen on touch. She's told him before that not touching someone is stranger to her than idle, subconscious touches across the hand or a brush of an arm. While he didn't get it at first, he does now.

"I love you," he'll murmur as he wraps an arm around her shoulders, the touch meaning as much as the words themselves.

"I love you too," she'll reply, her fingers lacing through his and her nose brushing just under his chin.

Because now, Steve understands, saying I love you isn't enough without the subconscious little touches that show it just as well.

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