I'm Here | ✓

21 - Motel

"I mean, it's nice," Steve commented, looking around at the peeling plaster and faded neon posters. It could be a lot worse, I suppose. I've learned to appreciate what I've got.

We bought a one night stay and agreed to add a day each morning in case something went wrong. I flipped the little card the lady at the front desk gave us. She said it was our room key, but it looked nothing like a key. Steve took it from my fingers, holding my hand a little longer and making me smile. He assured me he'd show me how to use it, and led me down the hall to our room.

True to his word, Steve let me practice swiping the card in front of the little handle before we went inside. He tossed his backpack near the nightstand and flopped lazily on the bed. It groaned horribly under his weight, and I smirked. "Only one bed, Rogers? You're really pushing it this time."

He grinned back at me. "There's a chair if you're a wimp, Buck. Plus, if you'll recall, this isn't the first time."

I thought back to the days when Steve would crawl in bed with me when he got cold in the winter. We couldn't afford heating or even that many blankets, so he'd snuggle in under my arm and I'd take one of my shirts to drape over him, even though it often left me freezing. I never complained, though; I didn't want Steve to catch a cold. We also slept together back at the safe house that one night when I had that nightmare. It seemed like ages ago, even though it was less than a week. I let Steve have this small victory and wandered over to the backpack he had carelessly dropped.

We were already changed into the civilian clothes Natasha had provided, so the bag was almost empty. My fingers ran over some paper at the bottom and I pulled out Steve's journal carefully. I set it on the bed for him to take and continued searching. I plucked out a small leather sheath with a note taped to the front. Just in case. - N. I opened it and pulled out the knife. It was only about three inches, but that's all I'd need. I put it next to me on the floor, out of Steve's sight.

Various toiletries were tucked in the smaller pockets, and I decided to leave them where they were. Without much else to do, I wandered over to the window on the opposite side, unconsciously looking for danger but also at the half-wilted tulips planted outside. Air conditioning made the curtains flutter and made my hair flow momentarily in a way that made me chuckle.

"Bucky, come look at this," Steve giggled from the bed. I paced back over to him and leapt onto the bed, sending Steve rolling off the other side with a quiet shriek. I clamber over to make sure he's okay, but he's stuck between the bed and the wall, his hands over his face. For a moment, I'm worried that I hurt him, but he moves his hands a second later and I see that he's laughing. "Buuuck!" He complains. "Help me up."

I reach down and help drag him to his feet. He takes a moment to fix his now disheveled hair and I'm left smiling slyly up at him. He plops down next to me as he spots me staring. "Like what you see?"

I can't think of a witty comeback to that one because yes, I do, I love what I see.

"What were you gonna show me, punk," I laugh, choosing to ignore his comment. He pulls out his phone, types in a series of numbers again, and on the screen, an image of a cat pops up. He shows it to me, grinning. "Aww! Whose cat is that?" I cooed. It's got small grey ears and huge green eyes, staring straight into the camera.

"The Internet," Steve responds, taking the phone back. "You can share photos digitally with anyone else, and I happened upon this one. I thought you might like it."

"I do. That cat is so sweet!"

Steve grins. "Wanna see more?"

"Sure!"

Steve and I spent almost an hour lounging on the bed, flipping through photos of cats I'll never meet. The cats were cute, but when Steve was looking at one, I'd be looking at him. He got so excited, and honestly, it was adorable. His face would scrunch up and there'd be a spark in his eyes that I haven't seen in a long time.

At some point, he set his phone down and sighed. I could tell the cat photos were only a brief distraction from everything that life has plagued him with, both recently and decades ago.

"Wanna go get lunch?" I offered. The alarm clock on the nightstand reads 1:34 PM. "A late lunch, but I'm starving."

Steve runs his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, sure, that sounds good. There's a little restaurant just a few miles south of here."

After making sure our room was locked and the curtains drawn over the windows, we decided to leave for the restaurant. Steve gave a curt nod and a small smile to the woman at the counter, who barely reacted, just watching us leave. Lining the sidewalk out to the parking lot were small pink flowers that I hadn't seen before. I bent down and plucked one from the stem.

"Steve, c'mere!" He paused and turned. I took a few jogging steps, displaying the flower in my hands. I blushed in embarrassment when I realized how pathetic this was. However, Steve grinned and delicately took it from my hands.

"Here," he said, lifting it to his hair and fitting it behind his ear. He smiled at me and I blushed even harder. He looked so adorable, this huge hunk of muscle, every girl's American Dream, with my small flower in his hair, looking at me with those captivating eyes of his. I couldn't help but smile back at him. This is the man I'd do anything for.

He swung his arm around my shoulders like I used to do to him when we were younger. "C'mon, let's go get some food," he says, winking at me. On our way to the car, I glance back inside the automatic sliding glass doors to the woman at the counter. She's looking at the two of us, smiling calmly. She gives me a small nod that I recognize as acceptance, and I mouth thank you back at her.

I tighten my grip on Steve and pull him a bit closer. Just like old times.