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( LIKE A FACT )
MAYBE SHE SHOULDN'T HAVE SPENT ALL OF HER TIME WITH STEVE, BUT THAT'S HOW IT SEEMED TO GO. It helped to take her mind off of Gordon and the fact that she has the potential to lose him like she lost her dad. Even if she really didn't remember the man, having apparently only seen him once before he was killed in action as a baby. But still, the stories her mom used to tell her and Gordon, of the way he used to be a goofball and he was always happy and trying to help everyone. It was hard to think that she never got to know him. And she did know Gordon, which made it even harder to think about losing him.
They wrote letters when they could. Every couple of days, she'd get a letter from him, complaining about some asshole recruit who kept everyone everyone awake till odd hours in the night. She wrote back that's she's pretty sure Steve liked the feeling of getting punched in the face, because she's had to nurse six black eyes due to him fighting. Which, she also wrote to Bucky asking how she could stop him from fighting like he is. The response she got was a single sheet of paper that had the words scribbled you don't, you just make sure he's okay after which wasn't helpful at all.
She was just glad that with Steve's medical conditions, there really wasn't a way for him to get enlisted. And as selfish as that thought was, Edith was scared of losing him. Sure, if he managed to join the Army, she would be supportive because he needs that. But, until then, she's going to be happy just taking care of him as he is, the comic illustrator that was currently holding a freezer burnt steak to his eye.
She knows he tried to enlist the day before, so he was slightly angry at the system about their policies and wants to prove himself in the only way he can: standing up to the bullies that were being disrespectful and terrors of people. She knew that Steve would never back down when he was given said challenge, being the stubborn knucklehead that he was. That didn't mean Edith worried any less about him.
"Thanks," he said, breaking the silence that came with Edith's brooding. She looked up at him from where she was playing with his left hand's fingers, the ones that weren't bruised from punching. Edith didn't say anything, just wordlessly held her hand out to examine the bruised knuckles on the other hand. Steve switched which hands was holding the steak, then hissed at the feeling of Edith rubbing against the darkest part of his bruise.
"Sorry," she mumbled, moving so that she could press a light kiss to the knuckles, willing them to heal faster. When she looked up, Steve was blushing. The fond feeling that Edith was used to having whenever she was Steve made itself known in that moment, like it had been sitting around and waiting for the right moment to jump out. She let him have his hand back a second later, watched him trade hands holding the frozen steak to his eye, and then she was scooping up his left hand again. "You're okay, though, right? No broken bones or anything?"
Steve shook his head, "No, just a black eye and a bruised ego."
The steak came down from the face, making a noise as he threw it on the table. Edith lifted her hand to gently cup the side of Steve's face that was bruised, her fingers lightly skimming over the dark purple clouding his eye. He didn't flinch away, didn't move, didn't even seem to breatheuntil Edith's gaze flickered to his eyes.
