Into the Snow || A Captain America Love Story

11

The ride in the London Eye was enjoyable. So many sights to see and the view was incredible. We stroll along the streets of London, pointing out buildings as we did earlier and just enjoy each other's company. I catch Bruce eyeing Steve and I a few times, but shrug it off. Steve and I chat and so do the others. I realize that we are walking back to the quinjet.
     "Um, Tony?" I ask.
     "Yes, Tori?" Tony responds.
     "Why are we heading back to the quinjet?"
     "Going to hang out for a little bit and then change for the celebration."
     "Wait, what?"
     "I suppose you didn't pack anything fancy, so," Tony hands me a few paper bills. "They're British pounds. Use them wisely."
     "I'll go with you, Tori," Natasha says. "Might need some female company."
     A smirk spreads across my face. "That'd be nice."
     "So, you fellas go and do manly stuff." Natasha says.
     We say our goodbyes. Steve whispers to me, telling me to be careful and don't be afraid to take action, just in case. I grin and tell him the same thing. Natasha and I leave the men and walk back into the city.
     "I also figured that we'd be together a lot and might want to get to know each other." Natasha says, breaking the silence between us.
     "Yeah," I say. "So, Natasha-"
     "You can call me Nat or Tasha, or just anything you feel comfortable with." she says, adjusting her light brown leather jacket.
     "Okay, Nat, where are we going?" I ask.
     "This shop that I saw while we were walking. It had these fancy dresses in the window."
     "Cool," I say. "I still don't understand why we need fancy clothes. Tony is really going overboard."
     "Long story. You'll find out soon. Oh, there it is!"
Natasha points to a small shop with very nice dresses in the window. The name is Italian, so I can't read it. We walk in and my heart flutters. There are so many dresses and nice clothes that I want to scream. I'm usually not the clothes type. In fact, I dread going to the mall for new clothes. A dress immediately catches my eye. It is a nineteen fifties styled navy blue dress with thick tank top like sleeves that have a high cut neckline, it is tight near the bottom of the ribs, and the bottom flows out and reaches the knees of the manikin.
"I need it," I tell Natasha.
"Then go get it," she laughs.
I rush to underneath the manikin and grab a dress that is my size. I glance at Natasha, whom is looking at dresses on the opposite side of the store. I grin at her.
"I'm getting this one," she says, holding up a red strapped dress.
I hold mine up to show her and her eyes widen.
"Modest," she says. "But cute."
"Are we going to try everything on?" I ask.
"Nah, Tony won't mind. Plus, I really don't feel like trying it on. I know it will fit."
I smile and we bounce to the cashier.

•••

I stand in a room inside of the quinjet. In the mirror is someone that I don't know. The navy blue dress fits well, don't get me wrong, but it just isn't me.
     My hair is pulled back into a French twist, my makeup is completely done, and I am wearing jewelry. However, I wear black flats because I am just that classy. My eyeliner is what I hear ladies call a "cat eye" and more things that I don't know the names of. My light pink lipgloss shines in the bright light of the room.
     The clock strikes 7:35pm and I check my hair and makeup before I leave. Tony had told me to come out of the quinjet no later than 7:45, so I rush to finish the last minute touches.
     I step out of the room and wind my way through the quinjet and outside. It is dark, but that is an advantage to me. I scan across the cement and eventually find my brother in a black tuxedo, waiting patiently for me. I tuck a short lock of hair behind my ear and strut toward him.
     "You look nice," he says, looking up from his watch. "And you're right on time."
     "I wouldn't want to keep anyone waiting," I say.
     "Hopefully we won't," he mumbles, looking back down at his watch. "Madam."
     Tony offers his arm and I interwind mine with his so that our arms look like a chain. He guides me out of the landing area and we go through the city.
     Many blocks later, we arrive in front of a small restaurant. It reminds me of a French bistro, with small tables outside with umbrellas on top and two chairs at each. Above the door, there is a black and white striped tarpaulin-like cover. Tony opens the door for me and I see a long table in the middle of the room with every single Avenger sitting at it.
     They all exclaim: "Congratulations!"