Goldridge (Steve Rogers AU)

16

Elsa hadn't expected her first Thanksgiving to be spent sat around the table with the "enemy", and his family.

Her family.

But it had been, and if she were honest? She had liked it. Sarah had been in her element, sharing family recipes that her mother in law had passed down to her - and now they would be to Elsa. She couldn't exactly cook but she could sure as hell try to if it kept her mother in law happy.

The Goldridge Ranch-house had been bigger than she expected it to be, but held rustic charm throughout. "That is one big ass fireplace..." She had noted as she'd laid eyes on the stone construction for the first time. It was certainly the main focus of the room, and with the fire crackling and warming it, it gave the large room a cozy feel.

"One of my favourite parts of the room. Nicer in winter to curl up under a blanket with a glass of whiskey". Sarah smirked.

"Your home, it's lovely - makes mine look like a shack". She half laughed.

Sarah shrugged, "it is what you make it - you and Steve can make that one your own now".

They'd not discussed that yet. She'd told Steve when he'd first lived there that he could do what he wanted. However he'd not touched a thing, mainly out of respect for her. Now her thoughts of Thanksgiving vanished as she returned from her morning ride to see Peter, who worked the stables, wrapping something around the rail of the porch steps.

"What the fuck is that?" She frowned after putting the horse away, and coming over to him.

"Oh, Mr Rogers wanted me to help decorate..." Peter looked a little sheepish, wrapping the Christmas garland around and securing in. "Go on. Go see inside..."

Elsa headed up and into the house where it appeared that the festive season had sprung up. "It's like Santa threw up in here!" She exclaimed as she saw the huge tree in the corner side stepping into place before Steve's head appeared from behind it. "What are you doing?"

"Decorating for Christmas..." He saw her face. "Els - please tell me you at least had a tree, even if you didn't celebrate it".

He was met with a shake of the head. "No celebrating, meant no celebrating".

"Well then get your ass over here and start decorating. Think of it as a new tradition". He said and opened a box of baubles.

She did, coming over and beginning to hang some in different places on the tree, until it wasn't long before she was questioning him as to why he'd placed a specific decorations in certain places that just didn't look right. "You ever decorated a tree before Rogers?" She frowned, taking a step back before moving some of the things he'd hung and swapping them with others. "Or are you specifically trying to piss me off by putting these in places that don't look right".

"How about I take a step back and you can do it". He smiled, knowing that he was bringing out the perfectionist in her.

"It just don't look like it flows right". She justified this and began to move more around, Steve deciding to hang some garlands across the fireplace and elsewhere while she carried on with the tree.

Eventually he came back, seeing that she'd done a better job than he could. "Just the star and then it's done". She looked pleased with herself, the excitement in her eyes clear for him to see. In fact it was the first time he'd seen them truly sparkle.

"Let me help you with that then". He said, sliding his hands under the back of her legs and around her so as he could lift her up to put the star on. As she did, she looked down at him, Steve taking the opportunity to move in and kiss her gently. "You're pretty when you smile".

"As opposed to me looking like a sack of shit the rest of the time?" She smirked.

"No way, you're pretty all the damn time, but I suppose I could've worded that shit better. Ok, you're prettier when you smile like that". He tried again.

She shrugged. "Maybe I'll have to do that more then".

"Don't start on my account. I like you when you're pissed off too". He said, putting her down.

She took a step back and looked at the tree. "Well it don't look like a dumpster fire so I'm happy with it. Now I gotta try my hand at baking".

"Did mom challenge you".

"Yeah, and she wants pictures so I have to". Elsa said. "Don't expect miracles with me when it comes to cooking though". She really didn't know how she'd managed to survive this far when it came to some of the shit that she'd made.

Steve just shrugged. "We'll see - you go and do that while I put the lights up outside".

He watched her head into the kitchen and then called for Peter to get a ladder and help.

**

Elsa stared at the tray and cursed as Steve came indoors later on, then noting what she was looking at. "They're..."

"A disaster. Go on, say it - told you I can't cook for shit".

"What happened to them to deserve this way of death?"

She looked sheepish. "I kinda left them in for too long".

"Well you're in luck, cremated gingerbread men are my favourite". He said, taking one from the tray and biting its head off. "Smoky flavour...yep, it makes it". He swallowed and grinned as she groaned.

"See? I can't even make stupid little gingerbread men of death. I'm a failure at this whole housewife thing".

He turned her around and put his hands on her shoulder. "Hey, no you ain't. So you're not much of a cook, who cares? You tried, you cooked them at least".

"I guess". She sounded defeated.

"You don't have to push yourself to do it if you don't wanna - I don't care, I burn shit all the time". He smirked.

Elsa sighed. "I just wanted to be good at something that didn't involve a horse".

"Practice. That's all you need - now why don't we give these guys the funeral they deserve and try again. All you did was leave them in for too long, so now you know not to?"

She nodded, feeling a little better. "Guess you're right", and then chucked the gingerbread corpses into the bin. "Right. Get out, I need to focus".

His arms slid around her waist from behind. "So I can't do this and watch while you try to avoid gingerbread disaster round two?"

He heard the little sigh escape from her. "You're already a distraction, Steven - but a good one that. Fine, you can stay - but distract me again and you'll regret it".

"Sweetheart, I have no doubt that I will".