Falling for the Enemy || Captain America || Book 1

Chapter 35: At Least I'm Not Boring

You know what's not very pleasant to wake up to? Tigers mauling your arms off or spiders crawling over your entire body as snakes wrap around your arms and legs, injecting poison into your systems and suffocating you.

You know what is very pleasant to wake up to? One Captain America cutely snuggled up into the crook of your neck with his arms completely wrapped around your body and holding onto you for dear life like a life sized teddy bear.

Yeah, that's nice.

Slightly stirring, he keeps his mouth closed as he does an early morning sigh, only snuggling further into my neck and chest, his entire torso pinning me down to the bed like a flyer pinned to a notice board with 50 pins.

Fondling with his hair, my fingertips barely graze his freshly shaven cheek before his eyes flutter open. Groggily, one arm unlatches itself from around me to groggily wipe his eyes, his left arm still draped over my stomach and curling under my body.

A warm smile graces my lips. "Morning Captain."

A grin quickly flickers on his face for a second, but is quickly replaced by a groan as he complains "Five more minutes," only cuddling into me further.

My jubilant laugh escapes my mouth. "You're a soldier... you should be a morning person."

His face is completely hidden in the crook of my neck as he muffles "Was a soldier."

I frown. "But you slept for 70 years sleeping beauty, over half the teenage and 20-30 year old population wish they could pull off a feat like that."

As if I said something that triggered his reality reflex, realisation dawns on his features as he springs up and places his left hand softly on my neck and his right hand caressing my cheek. "Lillian! Are you alright? Are you hurt? Do you need a doctor? Are you going to pass out again—"

I irritably sigh at his cute fuss over me. "Steve, I'm fine. I just heard something that... that brought back painful memories."

His brows furrow together. "That poem you said?"

I nod. "Remember how I gave you a summarised outline of my life so far?"

His eyebrows rise to his hair line. "That was summarised?"

I slightly slap his masculine bicep. "Hey! I'm the wise ass in this relationship, don't you forget that."

His eyebrows rise even higher if that's possible. "Relationship?"

I groan. "You know what I mean!"

He shakes his head, still lying down next to me on the bed but slightly towering over me, his hands now moved to support his head on the pillow while the other returns to its place secured around my stomach/waist. "We'll talk about it later... that poem though.... What was that last line you said?"

I repress a lip quiver. "Who masks an identity like an eternal veil? Who else, but the troublesome Nightingale?"

Interest sparks in his eyes. "Is that why you chose Nightingale as your stage name? And trouble is your middle name?"

I hesitate. "Well... to be precise my middle name is actually Veronica but I want to legally change it to Trouble. But you're right. It's because of that poem I am who I am."

He slightly shifts. "Who recited it to you? Fury? Ally?"

I still cringe at her name. "No...... my dad did."

That really spiked his attention meter to the top level. "Loki? Loki said that to you? I thought you said you never met him—"

"I met him once," I hasten to correct "but besides that no, I haven't seen him in person. After a year at the orphanage, when I turned one, I would start having these dreams of me in a rose garden. You wouldn't believe what colour the roses were."