⤷ march 30, 2014
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In George Washington University Hospital, two guards stand stationed in front of a single room, dressed in all black, guns front and centre. A passing patient — an older man with a head of white hair and round black-rimmed glasses over his eyes — walks by, hesitantly eyeing the guards.
But when a soft melody filters out the door and to his ears, the patient's eye widen in recognition beneath the shades, and he spares a quick peak through the doors.
The sight inside makes him smile softly, before wandering off with his walker.
Inside the hospital room, a lone bed rests, a heart monitor methodically beeping, but muffled under the soft tunes that ring out through the record player resting on a table, the vinyl record spinning round and round.
"Everybody loves somebody sometimes,
And although my dream was overdue
Your love made it well worth waiting
For someone like you..."
When Steve wakes up, it's the first thing he hears. That lovely melody he'd come to love most out of all the songs he'd listened to after his crash, the songs that'd been made with love and care for over 70 years. He enjoyed them all, but this. This song, this tune...
Brown eyes looking up at him through long lashes,
slender fingers sliding into his, tickling his palm just slightly,
the twirl of brown curls,
the scent of mahogany teakwood...
His eyes flutter open, as painful as it was. He takes in the lights, soft as they were, and slowly, his body connects to his mind again, letting him know what he was feeling. He feels the gentle brush of soft fingertips against his left palm, and looks over.
Irina is there, dutifully by his side as she reads a book, one hand holding it and flipping pages while the other soothes his hand with gentle strokes distractingly.
Pride & Prejudice, by Jane Austen.
A classic, and one of Steve's favourites. He remembers watching the movie with her. God, he loved it. Loved the fact that one of his all time favourite books had even gotten a movie, and that he had seen it with Irina, blankets on their laps and hot cocoa in their hands.
His lips twitch upwards as he regards her with soft appreciation. ""I am the happiest creature in the world. Perhaps other people have said so before, but not one with such justice. I am happier even than Jane; she only smiles, I laugh."," he murmurs, so quietly, so gently.
But even over the monitor and the music, Irina hears him, and her eyes immediately dart up to his face, meets his eyes, and something breaks inside of them.
"Steve?" She whispers, voice cracking on her while her eyes shine with the beginnings of tears.
Steve just grins crookedly at her, slowly wrapping his fingers around her hand and squeezing, assuring her. Her mouth works, trying for words, but she can't seem to. Instead, Irina's eyes slowly fall to their hands, tracing Steve's.
And he watches her, content with the scene in front of him.
After a moment of silence, Irina grabs his fingers and slowly bring his hand up to her lips, brushing them over each knuckle, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to every one.
""There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense."," she returns with a different quote, pressing one last kiss to the knuckle of his pinky before pulling away and looking into his eyes again.
YOU ARE READING
𝒑𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒕 || s. rogers & b. barnes
Fanfiction❝ ironic, really. a name meaning peace given to someone who only fuels violence. ❞ ❝ i don't think you fuel violence. ❞ ❝ you'd probably be the only one. ❞...
