steve: i've lived my life by those sentiments. they're well worth dying for.

<- it's actually his own shame but yknow

‘ do you do that often ? put yourself at risk for no reason ? ’

Their working styles might be different, but their ethic is very much the same. Some people were able to differentiate the work they do from the lives they lead but that boundary has never really existed for Steve, and Sharon was one of the few people who understood that. She’s never asked him to work less because that would be the same thing as asking him to live less. And he’s never asked the same of her, except . . . It’s half past 3 in the morning . . . not too long before he’s normally getting out of bed anyway, but it wasn’t his bodyclock that had woken him up, but the lack of warmth in the bed next to him. It’s only been a couple of nights together, but that’s all it took for Steve’s body to grow accustomed to Sharon’s laying beside it, as if that was the norm and not the countless other nights in between where he lay alone. He wanders out in search of her; he hadn’t heard or felt her leaving the bed which is a feat in and of itself, but he can hear the distant sound of keyboard letters clacking. The lights are all still turned off in the apartment, but there’s a bright glow coming from the two wide screens in the hall that Sharon’s silhouette was leaning over. Steve shuffles on over, plucking up the waistband of his sleeping pants as he goes. ‘ Sharon ? What is it ? ’ He’s not invited on this mission — not for his lack of prying — but it had brought her to New York, and his apartment, and him so he’ll absolutely take that as a win, even if she had commandeered his work station as soon as she’d arrived. He slips an arm around her waist, entirely bed warm and still coming out of sleep so he’s not holding as much of his own weight as he usually does. He doesn’t try too hard to get his eyes to focus, transitioning from the pitch dark of his room to the bright white lights of the dual screens. His vision is half obstructed by her hair anyway. ‘ Come back to bed, ’ he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck over her hair, before his fingers fumble to push her hair aside. He noses against her skin, arm tightening around her waist, the possibility of him just hauling her away tangible. He wouldn’t be so bold — though his kisses along her neck do gain a bit more of a persuasive edge. ‘ You’ve done all you can. It’s a solid plan. Get some rest now. ’

Scrabbling hands, gasping breaths, and pounding heartbeats have calmed, slowing to deep kisses and gentle caresses and quiet hums, and eventually . . . the dawning acceptance that they needed to get back to the party and their friends. They step away from each other for a moment, Steve’s gaze lingering on Maria as he roughly tucks his shirt back into his pants, does up his zipper and belt without looking down. Her makeup had withstood the quick number on the table in one of the Tower’s numerous conference rooms but at some point Steve’s hands had snuck into her hair and loosened the neat curls she’d had at the start of the night. He thinks he might be able to fix it, and beckons her over. There’s a tear in the left strap of her dress that he doesn’t think he can fix, unless there’s a sewing kit nearby. ‘ You might have to cover that up, ’ he murmurs, nodding to the torn strap as his fingers gently groom her hair into a less unruly state. ‘ I’m sorry — I did try to be careful . . . ’ He really, truly had, considering he had been hyper aware that their friends and coworkers were celebrating in full swing a few floors above them, and there was no way of going too long without being missed. Some of that awareness had obviously dissipated as soon as he had Maria alone, as soon as her hands claimed him and his pushed her up onto the polished wood table. ‘ I’ll fix it for you, ’ he promises, before remembering he actually has the means to buy her a new dress altogether these days. ‘ I’ll get you a new one, ’ he amends, tilting back to inspect her hair and finding it passable. Before he can suggest they head back out now, she catches his jaw, turning it back to her. ‘ Your turn, ’ she says, and Steve raises an eyebrow. His hair receives the same treatment he had given hers, plucked gently back into place. Then his collar is turned up and smoothed down, before Maria rubs her thumb over his lips, wiping away the lipstick that had rubbed off onto him as he’d claimed her mouth greedily behind the closed doors. The way she rubs makes him think there’s a lot — or maybe that she’s taking the mickey out of him — and sure enough, as soon as her straight face starts to break, he catches her wrist to still her, laughing. ‘ Hey. ’ He grins, and her thumb still by his lips, he presses a soft kiss against it. He watches the way her gaze softens, feeling something inside him go rather mushy as well. ‘ We’d better go, ’ he says softly, pressing another kiss this time to her forehead. ‘ You can wear my jacket — that’ll cover the tear. ’