Distressed // Steve Rogers

15 - Капитан

"I'm just saying Cap," Sam yawned as he spoke, rubbing his eyes while he and Steve climbed the stairs. "Look at what she put together for Nat. The girl's gone soft."

Steve grinned as he climbed the stairs, looking around at the business of it all. Surrounding them were at least one hundred people reorganising the compound; removing priceless pieces of Stark's artwork and replacing them with thin white draping curtains that covered the walls and gave the whole place a heavenly feel. Hushed pink blossoms and roses lay on beds of gypsophila on every open surface and shimmering lights illuminated the space with a soft glow.

"Don't let her hear you say that." Steve's smile was soft as he contemplated the romance of the whole day and the fact that she had planned it all. "She could kick your ass pre-serum. She'd kill you now."

"Whatever man." Sam chuckled as he shook his head. "You know, she called me Big Bird this morning? It's coming back. I know she doesn't think it is, but it has to be Steve. She's the only one who called me that."

The two men paused at the very top of the stairs, looking out from the overlook balcony at the haven she had pieced together from the memories that had come back to her bit by bit, and Steve sighed softly. From the thousands of muted pinks and whites hidden in the details - the flowers, the candles, the handwritten signs - to the soft bubbling and babbling of the artificial waterfall built just below where they stood now; from the gentle illumination of hundreds of flickering fairy lights to the soft piano playing through the speakers in every room, Talia had created a safe haven; a home for the calm and peaceful. She had created Natasha's very own dreamscape.

His mind was preoccupied with images of white dresses and auburn hair, with hands held together and rings on fingers, with whispered words of promises and protection, with hopes and fears and dreams for something he wasn't sure he could ever have, when his musings were cut short.

"Don't you think it's all just a little frilly?" Sam wondered aloud. "You know, for Romanoff One?"

The clicking of heels on the wooden floor snapped both men's attention to the corridor behind them and away from the beauty of the scene before them. Instantly Steve's heart skipped and his breath stilled.

Her hair, always a little messy and free, had been smoothed into sleek waves; pinned back into a loose, low knot with soft tendrils placed delicately around her face and down her neck, framing her perfectly. Her lips were painted a soft red and her eyes, the beautiful forest green eyes Steve had memorised and worshipped, were large and glistening. The simple sweep of a soft pink shimmer was subtle against her pale skin, and yet with every blink and every glance she seemed to sparkle. Her eyes met Steve's for a single moment before she dropped her gaze and began to twist her fingers as she spoke.

"Not at all Big Bird." She smiled softly as her eyes remained trained to her hands and she thought about how tearful Natasha had been just moments before. "Today she is not an agent, or a spy. She is not an Avenger or even the Natasha you have grown to know and love. She is simply Nat; the little girl who planned her big, beautiful wedding when she wanted to escape the life she was living; the little girl who loved to sing and dance and play in the flowers. She is simply my sister, and today she is a bride."

When she glanced up at them again Sam was smiling, but he wasn't looking at her. She followed his eyes to Steve who stood staring at her in her dress, his lips slightly parted as he drew in a shaking breath, and her stomach flipped. She watched his eyes move over her slowly, precisely, like he was drinking in the sight of her to never be forgotten and she held her breath for a moment.

Slowly, Sam backed away and made his way down the hallway.

"What?" Her voice came out softer than she had planned, whispered even.