TOXIC ~ STEVE ROGERS [1]

Epilogue

I heard the key turn in the lock next door, and the door opened. Boots shuffled on the doormat, a jacket hung on the hook. A bag was dumped on the table, hesitant footsteps pattered on the carpet.
I finished placing the knives and forks on the table, my heart thumping.

"Keight? You here?" I heard Steve call from next door. The door adjoining our two apartments was open just a smidge.

"In here," I called back, placing myself next to his chair, smoothing down my best and cleanest black shirt. He poked his head through the door, followed by the rest of his body. His handsome face was tired, and he looked at the table in confusion.

"What's this for?" He asked innocently. I chuckled.

"Surely you didn't think I'd forget your birthday, did you?" I teased. Despite himself, Steve smiled.

"I thought I told you I didn't want anything," he said, walking further into the room. I shrugged, and ran one hand through my hair, which for once wasn't in a braid, and fell loosely down my back.

"I didn't buy you anything. I made you dinner. As a surprise," I said, gesturing to his chair. He cocked his head, and went to sit down.

"You, cook? It must be my lucky day," he said, his blue eyes locking onto mine.

"Look, I followed the recipe, and I didn't set off the fire alarm, so it should be fine," I assured him, sitting down opposite him. I popped the lid off my beer, and he did the same. I raised it towards him.
"To Captain America," I grinned. He smiled, and looked down for a moment. Then he looked up, his eyes bright.

"To us," he said softly, and we clinked bottles. After a mouthful of alcohol, we began to dig into the Italian ravioli I had prepared us. I watched him take the first bite.
He chewed slowly, his jaw ticking. His brow furrowed, and he breathed deeply before swallowing.

"How is it?" I was nervous for his reaction, since I didn't have the best track record in the kitchen.

"It's, good," he said hesitantly. I sighed, dropping my fork on the table.

"It terrible, isn't it?" I said dejectedly. He started to nodded, and smiled, a sorry written in his eyes.

"I'm sorry Keight, but cooking isn't really your forte," he said. "But I appreciate the thought, I really do."

I pushed my plate away from me.

"Pizza then?" I said, looking Steve in the eyes. He grinned back at me, and stood up, grabbing both my plate and his.

"Pizza sounds perfect," he said, taking the plates into the kitchen. I sat at the table, thinking about my wastes efforts when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out.

New Mission. Report to Agents Romanoff and Rumlow ASAP.

"You too?" I heard Steve say, and turned around to see him with his phone in his hand.

"Yeah, me too. Isn't it kinda rude to give you a mission on your birthday?" I said, grabbing my jacket from the back of my chair. He shrugged.

"We've got to do what we've got to do," he replied, and I followed him through to his apartment where he slung on his jacket and grabbed his shield from where it sat against a bookshelf. He looked over at me, his hand hovering over the door handle.

"Pizza on the way?" Steve asked, his lips turned up in a smile at the corners. I grinned, and clapped him on the shoulder as he opened the door.

"Yeah, my treat."