part 2 because i don't want steve to be sad ): but of course you can still read this as a separate piece of writing if you're not willing to get into the first part's angst ❤️
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Music: Turning Page, Sleeping at Last
"You're going to love it," Steve's lips stretched into a smile as he glanced at you, gently squeezing your hand in tender excitement. Although his 1930's upbringing would always make him self-conscious about touching you in public, those small gestures of affection were authorised, and he would always make sure to have your consent in private, his love for you closely followed by immense respect. You adored his old-fashioned side, softness breaking through strength.
"I don't doubt it," you returned him a warm smile, your chest expanding with relief as you caught a glimpse of the happier expression upon his face.
A pale blue bruise was still staining his clean-shaven jaw, but he had assured you that he was able to leave the apartment, the super-soldier serum already working on healing his decayed body. You hadn't tried changing his mind, because you trusted Steve, and if he had told you that he would be okay, so would it be.
Now the two of you were walking down a familiar alley, heading towards a freshly-built café the blond young man had been wanting to show you for a while. Before leaving, he had changed into a more formal outfit: a white button-up shirt, its sleeves rolled up to the elbow, paired with light brown trousers. You thought he was beautiful, but not only in his looks.
"We're almost there," Steve noted as the frontage of the café, framed by two small chalkboards, arose in the distance.
"You were right, I love it already," you commented, your pace almost speeding up in impatience to get there. To be honest, you were fond of anything linked with hot beverages.
"And I," Steve looked at you, delicate rays of tender longing shining through his iris. "love you."
"Roger that, Rogers" you smiled widely as he chuckled at your response. "I love you too."
Nebulas of exhaustion were still spread out under his eyes, but at least Steve's face seemed devoid of the sharp sadness his sense of loss had engendered a couple hours ago. Crying to his heart's content and cuddling seemed to have done their good.
A few strides later, you reached the coffeeshop, a lovely brown place with many potted plants peaking through window panes and standing outside the building, which added to its peaceful and appealing appearance. The thought of spending your morning there with Steve was enough to enchant you.
Steve pushed the door open, you on his heels, and both of you instantly caught a strong sugary whiff of coffee and pastries, immersed in the comfy atmosphere of the café's interior.
"It smells amazing," Steve couldn't retain an impressed grin, stopping at the entrance to have a better look around.
The waitress, a young freckle-faced woman with light brown hair up in a bun and a septum piercing, came up to you to offer you seats.
"Do you want me to take your orders or should I come up to you a bit later?" she asked welcomingly, glancing at you then Steve. Her eyebrows slightly raising in curiosity, her eyes lingered on his face. "I'm sorry, I don't want to seem invasive, but are you... Famous? I just feel like I've seen you somewhere before...," she wondered before adding sheepishly: "Sorry for asking, you don't have to answer that."
