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( ALWAYS )
INSTEAD OF GETTING STEVE THE FOLLOWING DAY, EDITH GOT A LETTER FROM GORDON. Which, okay, that wasn't bad. In fact, she was relieved that he was okay and was taking care of himself and his fellow soldier. He couldn't really tell her more about that operation and when he was going to be home for leave, but he was doing good. Drinking lots of free coffee from one of the woman that was in the village.
The paper had came, displaying a man that looked exactly like Steve but bigger on the front page, Edith cursing herself for not seeing it before. Whatever was holding Steve up had something to do with that, there was no way that that wasn't Steve. She could see the familiar determine set of his shoulders. The way he held himself. It was all there.
So, Edith paced around her apartment basically all night, robe tied tightly around herself, hair in curlers. The pipes had been groaning so badly that she had called the plumber when it became a decent hour, which occupied some of her time, but when he had deemed the pipes all right, there was no leaks or anything like that, Edith was left to her own devices. Wondering where Steve was and why he hadn't contacted her to at least tell her he was okay.
The knock on the door startled Edith out of her stupor. She had been staring at the newspaper that was laying on the table, black and white picture of Steve laying open so she could stare, thumb nail between her teeth. As soon as it registered in her tired mind that it was a knock on her door, Edith rushed to get it, not caring that she didn't look presentable. Flinging the door open, she stopped to see a tired looking Steve standing in front of her. Though, instead of her small, fragile Steve, he was basically a whole new man.
She had to look up now to see his face, only coming up to about his shoulders. He was muscular now, like she observed two days ago, his shirt tight against each bulging muscle. He still had the same blue eyes with flecks of green, but now he had seemingly better bone structure, his jawline sharp and his hair somehow shinier, more full of life. No longer was Steve the sickly guy who had stolen her heart. He was this man. Edith couldn't help but think both of them were beautiful though.
She reached out, her fingertips landing on the front of his chest, before she was pushing her hand onto it until her palm was pressed against the fabric of his shirt. His heart was beating at a better pace than it had been when he was smaller, hammering against her hand as it did its job. Edith watched her hand as she moved it, keeping it firmly pressed against Steve's new body as she traced the muscle under his shirt, then along to his artist hands. She picked it up, examining the hands that were no longer stained with graphite, but still held the soft elegance that he could use to draw with. Making sure it still felt alright, Edith intertwined their fingers, the hand not being held feeling the new power that Steve acquired in his thick arms, tracing up to his broaden shoulder.
She stopped there, giving herself time to feel the power that was also in his shoulders now, that somehow fit him better than the small ones ever did. The determined set was relaxing now, but it was still there and it was still entirely Steve Rogers. She gave it a squeeze, her fingers then moving along his neck, tracing the jawline, coming to a rest with her hand cupping Steve's cheek. Her eyes watched him close his eyes, leaning into the touch.
