This Is Stella's Reality

August 15, 2015

Sweet honey dripped from the wooden stirrer as I drizzled some on top of a stack of waffles. The sun was rising over the balcony and flooding the apartment with amber light. Alpine and Sidus loved it; they stretched in the warmth of dawn, yawning and cuddling under the hanging herbs.

Steve and Bucky opened the patio door, bringing more plates of food out and settling into the couch on either side of me. Bacon and eggs and fruit bowls joined the waffles. There was juice and tea and jams of every kind.

I sat back and leaned my head against Bucky's arm, looking over at Steve who fiddled nervously with his pencil and notebook. As confident as he always was, he was so bashful about his talents outside of his brawn. He was a gifted artist, and though he'd never admit it, he could sing and play the piano quite well.

Our sun, always shining, even when he was being eclipsed by his own insecurities.

Steve cleared his throat and popped a grape into his mouth, settling back into the couch and looking out to the skyline to find something interesting to draw.

Golden light washed over his skin, and the air seemed to buzz like the twilight of a hot summer day. His eyes were aflame with concentration as he surveyed Paris below us. Gentle arches, winding streets, romantic gardens, quiet homes. There was plenty for him to choose from.

I smiled as his eyes settled on our elderly neighbors' garden. It was organized chaos with tomatoes growing across a trellis. Peppers popping up across the lawn. Perennials dotting hedges, and rose bushes in neat rows. There were herbs and squashes, young trees, onions, and garlic. Enough to keep Steve's keen eyes busy.

His pencil started to move as I popped a chunk of cantaloupe into my mouth. Bucky reached across me and sliced into the waffles, watching Steve work and absentmindedly eat some breakfast.

We fed him occasionally when we noticed him become too entranced with the strokes of graphite. He hummed in thanks whenever something sweet hit his tongue. He had a horrible sweet-tooth, constantly craving the honey-soaked waffles and juicy fruits.

After the sun had risen in the sky and dawn had long passed, Steve was finally content with his work. He sighed and stared at it for a while. "It's not great," he said.

"Shut up," Bucky drawled with a roll of his eyes. "It looks beautiful, husband." He sat forward and gently took the notebook from Steve's hands. His eyes flickered over the sketch. It was really lovely.

Steve smiled softly and looked down to the floor, swirling a glass of orange juice around. "I could've done better with the fence and the hedges by the window. They're a bit sloppy."

I sighed and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling his head to my chest. "It's beautiful, Steve. We'll go to shops later and find a frame for it along with some art supplies for you," I said sweetly.

His cheeks pulled up into a grin. "It's a stupid drawing on lines notebook paper. It doesn't deserve a frame, sweets."

"Uh," Bucky interjected, "it absolutely fucking does are you kidding me? It's incredible, doll." He held the notebook up to the light, following lines with his eyes and smiling.

"I want to draw the both of you," Steve hummed. "Portraits would look nice on the wall behind the couch."

"And a self-portrait for yourself too," I prompted.

He laughed, "That feels weird, but whatever makes you happy, love."

"Well," Bucky teased, "we can't just have the moon and the stars on display without the sun." He grinned and gathered me in his arms, placing me in his lap so he could sit directly next to Steve. "It's the three of us together."

"'Til the end of the line," Steve mumbled softly. His eyes were gentle. Like clear blue opals glittering in the sun.

'Til the universe imploded and the sun and the moon and all the stars ceased to exist. Together until the very end of existence.