Fakers - Steve Rogers

III

AN: It's finally here! The third and final installment of "Fakers" is finally done. I'm so sorry for the long wait but with school and everything I simply didn't have the time. I'm glad you were so patient with me :)) Enjoy!

Today was the day. The day your sister would finally become Mrs Hammond, no longer sharing surnames with you. It was weird to even think about her getting married but observing her over the last few days with Ryan made everything clear. It was obvious that they were made for each other. It made your heart ache a little as you watched her dressed in her wedding dress, nerves shaking up her body. Would you ever get to experience this?

Would you wear a brilliant white dress that would compliment your skin colour, body full of nerves too? Would you calm yourself down knowing that outside the room your partner was waiting for you with a love so strong that you never needed to doubt them? Would your partner cry when he saw you for the first time, wipe at the corners of his eyes as he smiled, wondering how he managed to get you? Would he feel fulfilled, knees buckling as you were pronounced his wife? Would he hold you even closer during your first dance together, wishing he could stop time and cherish this moment forever?

Probably not. That meant you had to have someone to share that with and at the moment you couldn't be further from it. You had Steve but that was all pretend and that actually hurt even more than being single. You would get to pretend but at the end of the day, you were alone, haunted by your feelings for the man who didn't reciprocate.

"One glass of champagne for you, dear" Steve appeared in front of you, interrupting your self-deprecating thoughts, with two glasses of champagne.

"Thanks," you nearly emptied the whole glass in one sip, ignoring Steve's widened eyes. You wanted to forget. Needed to forget. Forget this whole act. Forget how sinfully good Steve was looking tonight. Forget how it made you feel.

He was dressed in a simple grey suit but it was fitted perfectly to his body. The black shirt underneath giving it an air of sophistication. Just him moving his arms had the material stretched tightly against his biceps. His hair was parted like always, showcasing his ocean blue eyes perfectly. You could spend hours lost in them if you were allowed. Why was he so amazingly good-looking? It wasn't fair.

Steve opened his mouth to voice his concern but eventually decided to let it go. The movement only helped draw your eyes to his lips. The delightfully pink lips you wanted nothing more than to ravish. Just the image in your head of him with swollen lips, begging for you to kiss him again, was driving you crazy.

"Let's dance?" you grabbed his hand without waiting for an answer, hoping dancing would distract you from whatever road you were going down. Steve followed without protest, even if every bone in his body was screaming out for him to stop. He could not dance even if is life depended on it but you were asking and who was he to deny you?

You immediately lost yourself in the funky music playing, body moving to the beat and lips mouthing the words you knew. Steve attempted to follow your lead but it obvious that he felt uncomfortable. To his luck you hadn't noticed yet, seeing as your eyes had been closed since the moment you arrived at the dance floor. You looked gorgeous as you let yourself forget your worries and simply lived in the moment. Steve was so irrevocably in love with you that he was almost hurting himself by pretending this was real. But for just one more evening he could pretend that this was reality and that when he woke up tomorrow that you would still love him back. Hurting himself was worth it for a few hours of your reciprocated love.

"Oh," your voice brought him back from his trance. The music had changed to a slow ballad and Steve was about to leave the floor when your hands wrapped around his shoulders. You gave him a sheepish smile and his hands placed themselves on your waist without thought. You were so close that he could smell the sweet perfume you had sprayed on this morning. The scent driving him crazy. He was close enough that if he moved his head just a fraction, your lips would touch. He was so close yet so far.