𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔 || 𝟏𝟖+
❝I'm convinced that you are heaven in a person, Angel.❞
The one where a tired Steve Rogers escapes his past and ends up finding the love of his life during a very snowy Christmas time in London, UK.
「mcu; alternate...
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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: ONE LAST NIGHT
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When a while later, they lay in bed, cuddled up against one another, Angel wondered if she'd ever felt so at peace. Outside, the snow covered the city in another layer of fresh white while the sun set, leaving London in gloomy darkness. Angel had a comfortable sweater on, her head rested on Steve's chest. Listening to his calm heartbeat as he had one hand on her head, gently stroking her hair with the faintest movements lulled her into a state of utter calm. She had her eyes closed, arms wrapped around him, feeling the rising and falling of his chest with every breath. A slight smile had crept its way onto her face.
She wasn't sure whether he'd fallen asleep by now. The apartment was of a comfortable temperature and the air smelled of the fresh cookies that were still in the kitchen, cooling off. Only the nightlight on the nightstand illuminated the bedroom. It was utterly quiet except for the breathing of the two, steady and calm.
"Steve," she whispered into the void, not opening her eyes. It was a sheer test to see whether he was still awake, and it startled her just the faintest bit when he actually answered.
"Yes," he murmured, his hand continuing to run across her brown waves, his other resting atop hers on his abdomen. He sounded sleepy. The hum had escaped from the very back of a dry throat, sending shivers down Angel's spine. She pressed her face tighter against his buff chest. He smelled like a mixture of the cookies and what she assumed was his shampoo or shower gel, a fresh yet soothing scent that reached her nostrils when she deeply inhaled.
"Are you still awake?" the brunette asked quietly, her lips barely moving from how tired she was by now. His chest shook as he chuckled, and Angel wished she could've seen his face at that moment to witness another of his perfect smiles.
"No, I'm fast asleep. That's why I'm talking to you right now," he replied sarcastically, and Angel heard his smile in his tone. She huffed, now shifting her hand out from underneath his. Instead, their fingers entwined in clumsy, lazy movements that almost seemed playful.
"Steve," she grinned reproachfully, and his arm around her body pulled her closer to him in response. She secretly began to wish for him to joke more often. Then, a flash of an idea emerged in her mind. Something she'd brought up before.
"Draw me."
He inhaled deeply, his chest rising dramatically as he did.
"Not a chance."
"Why not?" she asked sadly, letting her fingers draw circles on his abdomen. He let out a slow exhale while his thumb caressed her upper arm.
"I don't draw people," he replied in a strained tone, and Angel pressed her lips together, knowing well that he'd said he sometimes did. She'd secretly hoped to be an exception.
