#spaceisprettycool

“Go away, Miss Lewis.  I didn’t come here for company.  I couldn’t walk any further and thought everyone celebrating elsewhere.  It’s Christmas Eve.  You shouldn’t be here.”  

She frowned, defensive.  “I’m Jewish.  I’m returning from prayer service. It’s the first night.”  She attempted small talk while wondering if he could hear her heart thumping quickly in her chest.  Being near him excited her in many ways.  “Um, I heard about the robot attack from some people on the subway.  They said you did a good job.  I didn’t hear about you being so injured, though.” He averted his eyes and didn’t respond beyond a weary shrug. The words leapt from her throat, plaintive and raw.  “Why do you hate me?”

His voice rasped like gravel.  “I do not hate you.”  He hissed with pain as he shifted.

She stared at him for a long moment.  “You do a fair imitation.”  She half-flounced to the kitchen and turned on a dim stove light so she could see to pull out ingredients and a pan for making hot chocolate.  “I’m making the world’s best hot chocolate.  Want some?”

He hesitated, and then sighed.  “I suppose.”

As she worked- curling fine, dark chocolate bits into warming milk on the stove, she shook her head and reproved him, “Not very friendly, sir.”  The earthy tang of the chocolate centered her emotions for a few precious seconds. Then, the hair on her neck stood up as his bitter chuckle sounded again.  She supposed it was the knowledge that he was injured that gave her the courage to stand her ground in the face of his Alpha-enhanced hostility.  Until this night the pattern had been for him to leave the moment she entered a room, or for someone else to pull her away on hearing his apparent dislike of Darcy or something she did.  It was part of why his scent tantalized; she only got brief samples of it before he left her wanting again.  The other part was obvious to anyone with eyes.  Steve Rogers was uncommonly handsome.

He shifted and grunted. An odd grating sound of bone on bone caused her to stop moving and whine again.  Tears pricked her eyes as she worried about the pain that must involve for him. Through gritted teeth, he growled.  “See?  It’s too ugly and rough for a sweet, pretty dame like you.  You should just leave me to deal with it alone.  I always do.”

She shook her head impatiently and tried to ignore the wisps of arousal his growl incited.  “You don’t even know me.  You don’t know what I can take.  I’m not a hot-house flower or something.  I’m…”

Sparks skittered through her as he growled again, “No.  I don’t know what you can take.”  The sexual undertone was sharp and pungent.  He hung his head.  “Sorry.”

She stilled, but for stirring the chocolate.  “So, that’s it?  You avoid me because you’re afraid you might harm me?”  She opened a tin of mini doughnuts she’d made earlier, her great-grandmother’s spiced recipe, and ate one.  She whisked the hot chocolate to a low boil, added vanilla, and listened to the sounds of the fire and Steve’s labored breathing.  A tiny part of her feared his power and wanted to flee.  A base part wanted to strip naked, present submission, and beg him to take her.  Her controlled self settled for staying close and offering him sustenance while he healed.  When the hot chocolate was ready, she asked, “splash of hazelnut liqueur, or virgin?”

Interest brightened his tone.  “Liqueur, please.”  As he reined in his temper, she took a deep breath and savored the scent of calm he willed into the air between them.  It was smoky and rich, like fresh wood smoke and complex spices.  Her nose twitched appreciatively and her body relaxed.  She inhaled him again and licked her lips.  He locked his gaze on her, assessing her reactions.  

She took two steaming, red mugs and set them on the end table between his seat and a chair.  She wasn’t brave enough to sit on the sofa with him.  She went back to the kitchen and grabbed the doughnut container and two napkins.  “Doughnuts? I made them.”

He nodded and accepted the food and drink.  “Thanks.”

She sipped her drink and watched him devour a handful of doughnuts and sip the drink with a needy look on his face.  She frowned.  “I can make you something better, more filling.”  She itched with the desire to give comfort.  The scent of distress lingered from him.

He sighed and inhaled deeply, clearly savoring her nearness.  “Maybe later.  This is delicious.”  A triumphant grin ghosted her lips.  It faded as he warned, “don’t get cocky, Miss Lewis.  I heal quickly.  If you play with fire…”  His expression was hard, serious.

A tingle of fear arced and left her as one absolute truth asserted itself.  “I trust you.”

His eyes were hooded.  “Why?”

A low sigh eased from her as she shifted in the chair and tucked her legs underneath her.  “Instinct?  I just know.”  She decided this was NOT a good time to share that Captain America’d been lifted up as a sort of folk hero to Jewish people when she was a child.

He chuckled darkly.  “Instinct?”  Anxiety and a tinge of bitterness blended into his scent.

She shrugged.  “You’re different than any other Alpha I’ve met, but I know you’re a good man. I know it.”  Her brow furrowed.  “Have you always feared being alone with an Omega?”

He snorted lightly.  “While I was never good with dames, I didn’t know the term ‘Omega’… or associated realities… until I woke in this century.  You know the Alpha-Omega change in Humanity wasn’t triggered until the early 1960’s.  I slept through it.  Waking as a super-Alpha was the most difficult adjustment of all.”

Her eyes gleamed with avid curiosity.  “How is it different from before?  How are you different?”  As sure as she knew scents, she now realized that this was the key to his reticence with her.

With a pained shrug he offered, “it’s like we were all Betas.  Some had more aggressive temperaments than others, but everyone was mostly ruled by reason rather than instinct.  Free will was one of the most valued commodities, rather than a quaint ideal.  The idea of biology making it so some people can take others’ consent and free will?  A horror.  A crime. Immoral.”  He inhaled.  “Scent is a whole new world compared to what it was before.” He cut a glance her way and bit his lip.  She watched as he curled the fingers of his newly-mended hand.

She leaned closer, curious, noticing how still he became.  “Super Alpha?”  Her mind wandered wild paths betrayed by changes in her scent.

He nodded with pretend nonchalance and shifted a pillow on his legs.  “That’s self explanatory, I think.”  He licked his lips and held his mouth open, tasting the air between them. He tried, and failed, to suppress an appreciative grunt.  His scent deepened with musky longing.

With a sigh, she sat back and savored the undercurrents between them and tried to understand him.  “But, you’re okay with Clint and Bruce and Tony.  You don’t hate all Omegas.”

He groaned, voice tight and eyes closed.  “I don’t hate any Omega.  I… respond to you more than others, Darcy.  I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable.  I try not to impose my nature on others.  You deserve your freedom of choice.”   He shuddered with want as he breathed her in.  His hands flexed and trembled.

Her throat went dry.  “Me?”  Her heart pounded faster.  She felt her eyes darkening and began to appreciate the effort he was making to control his Alpha nature.  The urge to remove her scarf and bare her neck to him was difficult to ignore.  Her blood raced with want and need.

He nodded, obviously struggling with the same feelings.  “I’m around Omegas all the time.  In my work, I’ve met thousands.  You’re unique.”  His brow furrowed as he wondered for the hundredth time if the notion of ‘pairing’ explained it.  He couldn’t think clearly with her near, could only know that if there were anyone he’d want as his perfect match it was Darcy.  Even more, he’d want to be worthy of her, to be her perfect match.

She reached across the end table and laid a hand on his arm.  He flinched from the delicate touch and leaned into it simultaneously, trying not to shiver.  Her whisper was so soft he hardly heard her.  Emotion filled her words. “So are you, to me.  I would’ve run the other way if the Alpha in distress here was someone else, anyone else.  I… I want to get to know you. I’ve wanted it since we met the first time. Please…”

His purr startled them both.  He quelled it and sipped the hot chocolate to give him something to occupy his hands and mouth.  After he swallowed enough to fill his senses for several seconds, he spoke again.  “Tell me about yourself.  I know about your work.  I pay more attention than I ought. But I want to hear about you.”  After a pause, he added an urgent, “please.”

Darcy made an appreciative noise in the back of her throat and began to talk.  She told him about growing up in Southern Virginia in one of the few Jewish families in a rural community- Having to drive forty minutes each way to go to Temple.  Her anger when other kids laughed at songs about dreidels at school and hurled childish insults her way.   The sense of social justice the bullies and her family history inspired in her.  Her SHIELD-derailed efforts to study Political Science so she could try to change the government from the inside or work with a Human Rights organization.  

Her dreams and ideals flowed forth with straightforward conviction.  And for the first time, Darcy inhaled the heady scent of a man (and someone other than Jane, or her parents before they passed away) believing in her.  She stopped, surprised, eyes wide with tentative hope.  He didn’t reek of impatience with her or derision like others. He (Captain America, of all people!) believed she was capable of doing good.

Steve’s lopsided grin took years off his handsome face.  “Don’t look that way.  Like I said, I’ve been paying attention.  You’re sharp as a tack.  Your name was on the Insight list. I understand why.  And, I think that my long-ago insanity in volunteering as a science guinea pig to fight for my country can benefit you now, if you’ll allow it.  Let me use my influence with the new SHIELD that I’m not supposed to know about.  With Hydra separate now, I can make SHIELD help get your credits transferred and stop blocking you from realizing your dreams.”  He shook his head and lifted his chin.  “And don’t think I’m trying to pressure you in any way, either. I’ll do it even if this is the last conversation we ever have.  Consider it a Christmas, or well- Hanukkah- gift, if you like.”

She ducked her head, cheeks blazing.  “Thank you.  I love Jane, but want to pursue political science and get someone else to babysit her.”   She turned her eyes to the tree.  “I like Christmas, too.  It’s pretty and feels like a cousin to Hanukkah, with all the warm light.  I just didn’t like getting picked on for being Jewish.”  She rolled her eyes.  “Everyone assumed that I got the same haul of Santa gifts they did on Christmas AND gifts every night of Hanukkah.”  She chuckled fondly, “books, lots of books.  That’s what my parents liked to give. I should have…”  She shook her head, missing her parents and the books she’d taken for granted.

Steve sat up more, eagerly drinking in the play of emotion on her face.  He swore to himself that he would find books and give them as gifts for her each night over the next week.  The scent of a book was one of his favorites, something he would like to share with her. The thought of doing things to please her filled him with fierce joy.  He didn’t dare let his thoughts turn to helping her nest or to aftercare.  That way lay madness.

Darcy turned perceptive eyes on him and grinned impishly.  “Your turn.  Bare your soul to me, Captain.”

He nodded once.  “I’ll tell you anything, on one condition.”  She raised her brows, curious.  He let a hint of Alpha command slip into his voice.  “Call me Steve.”

She shuddered with the heated shock of hearing his command voice directed her way for the first time and nodded.  “Steve.”

He marveled silently that she probably affected him more than his command voice did her.  He told her about his childhood, his mother, Bucky, his neighborhood bullies and his seemingly-unrealistic dreams.  He shared stories of Christmas celebrations, some poor and some vibrant, from his life. Then, he shared all that Dr. Erskine had told him and done for him, all that Peggy meant, his USO escapades, and his Howling Commando days.  He talked about waking up to deceptions and a changed world and his own altered nature.  He told her about the joys and horrors of Avenging.  He finished by admitting, “the nicest thing about scent is the way it enhances communication.  I’m sensitive to your scent, since I’ve nursed a crush on you from the start.  But I read sympathy without pity from you, without fear.  I like that.  I don’t usually tell people so much.  You’re easy to talk to.”  The depth of his sincerity rolled into his scent and nearly overwhelmed her. His eyes went wide when he saw the tear tracking down her cheek.

She whispered, “thank you for trusting your story to me.  That makes me feel special.”

Steve reached across the table to wipe the tear from her face. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sor…”  His words caught in his throat as she turned her head and rubbed her nose along the inside of his wrist and the sensitive scent glands there.  She shuddered as she took his scent, whined with primal want. He couldn’t help the moan that escaped him.  Shaking from head to toe, he pulled his hand back.

Darcy’s sigh was shaky, full of feeling.  “I… I appreciate you letting me choose to like you, Steve. I do. Like you.  I…”  She laughed at her nervousness.

He inhaled deeply.  “I choose to like you, too, Darcy.”  He closed his eyes as though wishing or praying and then opened them and looked her in the eye.  “Would you go on a date with me sometime?”

She nodded.  “Yes.  I’d like that.”  He smiled softly, then looked at her with a question in his eyes as her scent changed again.  She nibbled her lower lip and grinned impishly.  “I don’t have mistletoe with me as an excuse, but I’d like to give you a Christmas kiss.  May I?”

He nodded, practically vibrating with restrained desire.  He stayed completely still as she moved closer.  Darcy sat on the edge of the sofa by him and leaned in to give him a soft kiss, full of promise and interest as well as instinctive passions.  He responded like a man dying of thirst.  He held her face in his hands.  His scent wafted around her as he deepened their kisses.  Both his touch and his scent spoke of an intensity of desire she’d never imagined.  Her breath came in short gasps as she glimpsed behind the veneer of civility he struggled to maintain.  A shudder of passion wracked her as he pushed an errant curl behind her ear.  He continued kissing her in slow nips undercut with the strained edge of his tenuous control.  

When she pulled back, she shook with desire.  “When can we go on that date?”  

He brushed her cheek with his lips again.  “I’ll call on you tomorrow evening, if I may.”

She giggled, giddy with anticipation.  “You may.”

He sighed.  “Many places will be closed tomorrow. It’s Christmas Day.”

The clock struck.  Darcy leaned in and kissed Steve softly again.  “I don’t care what we do or where we go.  I want to spend time together with you.”  As the twelfth bell sounded, she added, “Merry Christmas, Steve.”  

He kissed her again.  “Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah, Darcy.  I look forward to spending more time with you.” She took the mugs back to the kitchen and filled them again.  He stared after her and whispered, “it’s all I want.”  For the first time since he’d woken in the 21st century he felt hopeful.