The Flower You Painted (Steve Rogers X Reader)

Chapter 6: Heroes

When Steve woke up, he couldn't remember where he was for a short moment. The wooden ceiling above was unfamiliar and the whole cottage-like interior was in a sharp contrast to the modern Tower he was used to waking up in. His temporary room was also a lot smaller than his old one, only having space for a king sized bed, a dresser, a wardrobe and a small work table under the window. He had his own bathroom but it was a little down the hall.

Remembering what (Y/N) told him the day before, he decided to get dressed and go downstairs for some breakfast. Apparently the woman tended to go out into the woods early in the morning so he would have to eat alone. True to what she said, there was no sight of her anywhere and the whole house was very quiet.

He found a bowl of pancake batter and a pan ready by the stove, a small note telling him to make himself as many as he wanted and that there were blueberries and maple syrup in the fridge. He smiled at the thoughtfulness and in just a few minutes, he was already eating hot pancakes in the comfort of the living room. He felt comfortable there, surrounded by walls of bookshelves filled to the brim and a view of the lake and forest outside.

It was so peaceful, he wished Bucky could see it too. Bucky. His eyes widened as he realized he hasn't thought of him for the past hours at all, too overwhelmed by the reunion with the engineer. While it made him feel a little guilty, it also felt... good. He got his first good night of sleep in weeks and he felt so refreshed, almost like a new person. Maybe Tony was right, maybe a getaway was really what he needed.

After finishing his breakfast, he put the plate in the sink and decided to go exploring in the house a little since there was still no sign of (Y/N) anywhere. The super soldier decided to start with the rest of the building and come back to the living room later since it was so big. He went up the staircase to the second floor, looking at the paintings lining the wall. Many of them were of the yellow, orange and red forest and dark lake, some viewing the place from the opposite shore, including the house in the picture. Then, there were some line sketches of houses and objects but the vast majority were flowers. Roses, tulips, poppies, hydrangeas and chrysanthemums, colorful even more than in real life, every petal a different shade.

They brought back memories. He remembered the flower he gave her at the Stark Expo, very similar to those. Back then, he made it for his date despite not even knowing her name. He didn't have enough money to buy something fancy so he just used the paints he already had at home to make a normal flower into something special. When she didn't like it, he felt discouraged. He put so much time, love and effort into it, he thought the girl would see that... but she didn't. Giving it as an apology to (Y/N) wasn't the plan at first, but she was just so beautiful and lovely that he wanted her to have it. He was ready for her to refuse it, say it was ugly, but she kept it. The smile she gave him when she told him it was beautiful was one he would never forget. Not after she left, not after he met her again, not after she supposedly died, not even when he woke up from the ice. It was a smile that, for the first time in what felt like forever, made him feel like being just Steve Rogers was fine. That a stranger could appreciate him for just who he was without him needing to be fit, tall, rich or handsome. And on the inside, he has always remained Steve Rogers, because thanks to her, he knew people could accept him without pretending. He owed her so much and she didn't even know it.

The blond smiled to himself. When she disappeared, no, when she was taken, he found a paper weight on her table. It was the flower he gave her, she kept it for so long... and the painting he was standing in front of right now was the same exact one. He remembered every single petal, because he kept the paper weight after she was gone, looking at it every single day, sometimes for hours on end when he felt helpless and miserable. It was the only thing he had left of her, only that flower and a photo of her face in his pocket watch. It was surprising that she recalled it vividly enough to paint it. Maybe, just maybe, he also gave her something that kept her going that evening at the Stark Expo, like she gave him that smile. Was it too daring of him to think that?