65. STEVE: As I Love You... 2

A/N: This was a request! I hope everyone likes it! I haven't read through the whole thing entirely yet but it's taken me DAYS of writing and editing to get it to the happy ending I wanted. I'm very happy with how this came together in the end- hope you agree! I think it's got a good stable ending too so I'd have a hard time writing a part three for this, so hopefully it's enough to satisfy everyone!!

Thanks for reading! I love every one of you :)

-Winnie


Words: 4.6K

Warnings: Abusive father


           

The ceremony was beautiful. Hundreds of thousands of dollars had been spent to ensure the wedding's magnificence. My baby sister Taylor recited her vows at the end of a beautiful trail of white roses. The chairs were draped with white silk. The crowd of wedding goers all in shades of pearl and silver created the illusion of snow in the summer. Despite the last meeting I'd had with my father, only two days before, I smiled as I watched him walk Taylor down the aisle. Her beauty was ethereal. Her hair, golden and long, was in delicate curls. Her sparkling princess style dress swam delicately across the floor. She wore a lacey veil that her dear fiancé had the hardest time removing—making everyone laugh lightly. Steve held my hand throughout the whole ceremony. He'd occasionally steal glances over at me: making me wonder what it was that he was thinking with such a sweet little smile.

After the "I do's" were said and the kiss shared the guests were moved across the venue to the party hall. Tables are set up with grand gold and white centerpieces. Flower arrangements in white and peach spring up into the air towards the chandeliers.

"Damn," Steve chuckles as we find our seats. Suspiciously we aren't at the bride's family table. We got put with the friends—away from my dad, thankfully. "Did your folks foot the bill for this whole thing?" Steve questions. He picks up his gold etched porcelain plate carefully.

"Sure did," I laugh. I smooth out my skirt and sit after Steve's pulled out my seat. "Thanks, hon." I notice that our glasses are already filled with gold champagne. "If we ever get married, don't expect it to be this fancy. There's no way they're paying for anything that has to do with me." I raise my eyebrows as I taste the alcoholic drink. Hmm—fruity.

"If?" Steve eyeballs me suspiciously. "I was hoping you'd have a little more hope for us than that, darlin'." He chuckles lightly.

"Really?" I nearly choke on my drink. A few people, most of which I don't recognize, have arrived at our table. Sort of nervous I start to ramble—I don't want to give Steve the impression that I'm rushing into things. "I didn't know you'd be thinking about that. I haven't really thought about it, ya know," I lie. I think about it all the time, really.

Steve smiles. "It was all I could think about during the ceremony. I don't even remember half of what was said. I just kept thinking about what I'm going to say when I'm up there with you someday." He becomes distracted as the DJ taps on the mic. I stare longingly at the back of his combed blond head. He's taken by surprise when I wrap my arms around his shoulders and kiss the spot beneath his left ear.

"I love you," I whisper.

Steve chuckles and reaches up to cover my hands with his. "Not as much as I love you, my dear." Gently his lips press a kiss to my knuckles before he continues gently rubbing my arms again. I rest my chin against his shoulder and watch the DJ start the introductions while people begin to clap and holler.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Friends and family! It is my honor to introduce to you, for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Jordan!"

Steve claps and I whistle as my sister and her husband walk into the endless room. She spots me immediately—sending me a wave. I blow her a kiss and she laughs. She makes her way to the guest of honor table at the center of the room beneath the brightest lights.

"It's so wild," I mumble into Steve's ear. "It feels like just yesterday I was dressing her up in princess dresses and making her walk down the living room aisle with our cat."

"You made her marry a cat?" Steve laughs.

"Only when the dog was busy," I chuckle. I look up to where my sister sits longingly. While my eyes are up there I notice that my parents are at a seat a few down the row. My mother's next to Nick who's put beside his wife. My dad is of course there next to his youngest daughter. He laughs as they clink glasses. There's not even an empty seat for me. A knot of animosity builds in my stomach. "I should be sitting up there too." I can't keep the contempt out of my voice. I sit back and away from Steve.

Steve turns to me with a frown. "I know." He shakes his head. "I know, babe." He reaches out for my hand. I interlace our fingers and let them hang out on my lap beneath the table. "I'm sorry."

"Me too." I look down at my empty plate and wish it was piled with food then maybe I'd have something to do besides feel angry and sad.

A huge gourmet buffet has been catered from all the best restaurants in town. Dozens of dishes from Italian meatballs to fresh sushi are spread around the perimeter of the room. Steve and I wander around aimlessly looking for something that catches our eyes. He picks out a slice of lasagna first and then I'm tugging him towards the dessert foods.

"Dessert? Already?" Steve chuckles as I fill my plate.

"Duh. We have to get the best stuff before everyone else eats it all," I explain. I pick out a couple of the biggest chocolate covered strawberries. "Here—take a churro bite."

"Churro? I've never had one."

"Bullshit. I got you one in Disneyland," I remind him with an eye roll.

Steve's eyes go wide with recognition. "Oh yeah! I remember now. That was right before the scary elevator ride."

"Not that scary, Steve." I help myself to a piece of tiramisu. "Want?" Steve nods and I set one on his plate, too.

We're the oddest couple at the party we realize when we take our desserts back to our seats. A few of the older couples eyeball us as we giggle on our sugar highs.

Only fifteen minutes into the party I get a tap on my shoulder. I spin around and gasp. "Kimmy!" I squeal when I see my favorite cousin standing right behind me.

"YES BITCH IT'S ME!" She throws her arms open for a hug.

I jump to my feet and throw myself at her. We jump around and scream while Steve sips on his champagne and watches—chuckling.

"I didn't know you were coming!" Kimmy shouts.

"I didn't know you were in America!" I shout back. "What happened to living in Korea!?"

"Eh, I got bored. I'm moving to Spain next. Thought I'd come back for the summer first though." She grins. Then she notices my boyfriend sitting behind me. At her attention he stands to his feet. At his full staggering height he towers me—hand traveling to the small of my back. Even dressed in white with the sharp tie and nice black dress shoes he's recognizable to my cousin. Her slack jaw turns to a shit-eating grin. "Damn—I know you told me you were dating Captain America, but I never imagined he'd be this delicious in person."

Steve's face is blushing pink. I laugh and swat Kimmy's arm lightly. "Okay—keep your mouth shut beyond that. I've told you too many secrets to have you blabbering now." I shake my hand then go to introduce them. "Steve, this is my cousin Kimberly. She's my mom's sister's oldest daughter."

"And Y/N's favorite relative." Kimmy sticks out a hand. "Good to meet you, Stevie."

"Pleasure's mine," Steve smiles and shakes her hand.

Kimmy's grin is devious and I know something's coming. "Y/N and I were inseparable as kids. I've been gone a lot but when I'm old and settled down I'll move next to door to wherever the hell it is that she ends up. I'll be her maid of honor at your wedding and the godmother of your children, so you better get used to seeing me." She grins. "We've discussed all of this extensively."

"Extensively?" Steve raises a brow and glances to me. "I thought you said you hadn't given it much thought?"

"Well, I mean..." I twiddle my thumbs distractedly.

"She has a whole Pinterest board for it! She's got the dress picked out and the venue and we even looked at cakes one time at a bakery when we went to the beach..."

"Okay, that's enough Kimmy." I laugh uncomfortably and reach to cover her mouth.

"Hey! Don't smudge my lipstick. This is expensive shit." She glares playfully. She points to the seat next to me. "Can I sit?"

"There's assigned seating," I explain sadly.

Kimmy picks up the placard with the stranger's name and then chucks it over her shoulder. "Not anymore!"

Steve cackles. He seems to like her already. Kimmy can tell, and she radiates pride about it.

"Come on—let's eat and drink and talk shit about everyone we see." Kimmy grabs a glass of champagne and instructs us to our seats. "And let's start with our stupid hoe of a cousin Jo-Jo. You'd never guess what the bitch sent me over Facebook messenger last week..."

Kimmy, Steve, and I sit talking for another hour more. We eat enough food to feed a small army and drink plenty of bubbly nectarine champagne. After the cake is cut most of the party is out on the dancefloor. Steve knows I'm not really into dancing so we stay seated and chatting with all of my extended family that we see. My aunt and uncle come up to say hi as well as a dozen more cousins (all eager to meet Captain America). A few old friends from high school are here and our neighbors from our street. Steve's gracious, friendly, and engaging with everyone he meets. It must be exhausting to have to make the acquaintance of everyone. But he's the biggest spectacle here: word has gone around that a real life superhero is here. He's almost gathering as much attention as Taylor and Chris.

Standing near the dancefloor, Steve has an arm wrapped around me while politely nodding along to my great grandfather's war stories. Papa Perkins is thrilled to have met his hero—the man on the enrollment posters that encouraged him to enlist at only 18 years old. The duo trade stories while Kimmy blabbers in my ear about something silly.

"Hey—I need a smoke. Come with me?"

"You know I don't smoke," I laugh lightly.

Kimmy groans. "I know, I know. Nicotine is bad for you," she mocks me lightly. "But just come keep me company. It'll be lonely without you."

"Fine, fine," I agree. I stand on my toes to kiss Steve's cheek quickly. "Be right back, boys." I smile at him and Papa—leaning over to give the latter a kiss on the cheek, too.

"I'll be here," Steve responds sweetly.

Kimmy takes me by the arm and starts to tug me out of the reception hall. Down the stairs we go until it's the ground level and the parking lot is just outside the doors. We step out into the darkness side-by-side.

"I still can't believe you ended up with THE Captain America," Kimmy giggles. She plops down onto the curb and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. She digs around for her lighter somewhere in her crowded purse. "You always said you wanted to date a celebrity."

"He's not a celebrity," I laugh as I sit down next to her. I stare up at the stars that are dimmed by the bright shining buildings all around us. It's not a big city like New York, but I like the country more. The stars are prettier there. Maybe someday Steve and I can live out there together with lots of puppies and babies running around. "He's just a normal guy."

"He seems way better than normal to me." Kimmy takes a long drag—smudging her bright red lipstick in the process. "Normal guys send you dick-pics over Tinder and get fucked up on ecstasy over the weekend before coming back to their mom's basement for the night." She taps her cig out. "Steve's perfection."

"He is." I nod with a smile. I pull my legs to my chest and glance around the parking lot filled with cars. "He told me he wants us to get married."

"WHAT!" Kimmy squeals. She starts shaking me, making me laugh and pull away. "We have to start planning the wedding! Oh my god! Okay—here's what I'm thinking: destination wedding. Okay? Bear with me here, okay? Okay: 4th of July reception on the Hawaiian coast." She holds out her arms dramatically as if showing me the scene.

"Not the fourth, Kimmy. We can't have three events stacked up on that day. It's already his birthday."

Kimmy lets out a puff of smoke. "Okay, okay. How about June?"

"How about December? I've always wanted a winter wedding."

Kimmy sighs. "Okay—fine. I guess it is your day." We both start giggling like high schoolers again. "Oh, Y/N, I'm so excited for you guys. I mean—I know he hasn't proposed or anything—but you guys are going to be so happy together."

For the first time in her life, my cousin Kimmy is precisely right and I know it. A life with Steve would be the best thing to ever happen to me. Gone would be the days of dreading home. I'd never have to walk on eggshells ever again. I can be myself with Steve. We can laugh and cry together. He holds me when it's cold and when I'm lost all I have to do is say his name and he's showing me the way home. We'd live in a cute little fixer upper somewhere with a white picket fence and a thousand Gerber daisies planted in the front lawn. There'd be extra bedrooms for all of our best friends when the holidays came and the kitchen would always smell like fresh coffee.

The image of a happy life with Steve is thrashed away at the sound of glass shattering. Kimmy and I both strain our necks to try and find the source of the noise. The bottle breaking is followed by a round of chaotic laughter—reckless intoxicated chortling, more precisely.

"Let's go—let's go, let's go man, let's go. I gotta do a stupid fuckin' father daughter dance or s-something."

"Oh no..." Kimmy mumbles.

I'm already on my feet. Rounding the corner of one of the parked cars is my father and his wife's brother in law—two of the drunkest fools I know. Kimmy sighs when she sees our fathers hammered on cheap whiskey and puffing on cigs. She tosses hers under her feet before following me towards the scene.

My dad is making for the door of the building. I block his way before he can get inside. My arms are crossed at my puffed up chest and Kimmy is right behind me.

"What the hell are you doing here?" the hazel eyed man squints down at me and asks.

Kimmy grabs her dad by the arm. "What the hell are you two doing out here? Getting smashed? You know Uncle Matt can't handle it."

"Your Uncle Matt is fine," Kimmy's dad, my uncle, chimes. He's buzzed but not hammered. "His youngest daughter is getting married! Let a man celebrate."

I can't stop myself from saying, "My dad has no business becoming inebriated when all it does is turn him into even more of a jackass than he already is."

Suddenly, as if a dog's leash has been snapped, my dad reaches out for me. His fingers wrap around the top of my dress and he tugs me towards him. Our chests are flush as he glares down at me. "You watch your fucking mouth."

Kimmy's eyes widen. Her dad, chuckling because he's never known the extent of Matthew's behavior, pats his friend on the back. "Relax, Matty. She's just a kid." He walks around us towards the door. My dad's let go of me by now. "Come on, Kimmy! Your mom's been wanting pictures of us together all night." He's already halfway inside.

My dad tries to follow. "No—you're not going anywhere," I growl. I flatten my hands against his chest. Kimmy stares at me with scared eyes. I glance to her and we share a silent conversation. I can't let my dad back inside this party—I can't let him anywhere near Taylor like this on her special day. We need to keep him out of here, and I need backup.

Kimmy quickly nods and then dashes back inside. I'm eternally grateful for how close we are.

My dad watches Kimmy disappear without a thought. Then he's glaring back at me and how I still block his way. It's just the two of us now: alone. The air suddenly gathers up a briskness and swishes cold breeze around our feet. The moon gets smothered by a cloud.

"Get the hell out of my way."

"No. You've ruined too many family memories already. I'm not letting you ruin this one, too. Taylor deserves better."

My dad's fist is gripping my dress again. He pulls me up until our faces meet. "And what you deserve is for me to beat your ass—knock some damn sense into that fat head of yours."

I grit my teeth and mirror his poisonous glare. "Like you'd do when I was a kid? You can't scare me like that anymore. I'm not afraid of you."

"You should be." His breath reeks of liquor. With the hand that's gathered up the slack of my dress I'm thrown onto the asphalt. The skin of my cheeks and bare legs skid and bruise. Blood slowly starts to ooze—staining my pretty white skirt.

"You never should've come here," he growls. He makes to kick me but I roll out of the way. In his drunken state he stumbles forward. "You should've stayed in New York and kept that mouth of yours chocking on your boyfriend's cock instead of bitching at me—in my own fucking home!" Madly he pounds his own chest: looking a lot like King Kong.

I've pushed myself back to my feet. "You're insane, you know that? You're absolutely unhinged and you've ruined everyone's lives."

"Me? I've ruined...? Oh that's precious, coming from you." He scoffs. He takes three steps towards me. I want to stand my ground, I really do, but in the instant that I see his wide red-rimmed eyes I'm remembering him chasing me down the driveway when I'd been a scared little girl and I take five hurried steps back. My dad laughs. "Not scared of me, huh? I thought you were brave now—or are you only brave when your pretty boyfriend's around? Think Captain America can save you from your big-bad-dad. But newsflash! I'm not so fucking bad!" Even in his drunken state my dad is stronger than me. He grabs my wrist and throws me on the ground the other way. I skitter on my knees. "I gave you everything! You had a roof over your head! You had clothes! Toys! I worked my ass off for this family! And what do you do?!" He's screaming now. His voice scares the birds out of the trees. "You make me out to be some sort of fucking villain!"

I'm back on my feet. I'm between a truck and a minivan when he comes stomping closer to me. Part of my brain tells me to run away. But a larger part of me, the part that's much braver, makes me cement my feet. I stay rooted in one place as my dad stands in front of me.

"Like I said," I grunt with clenched fists and wavering bravery. "You don't scare me."

There's a fist closing around my throat. My back is slammed up against the side of the gold minivan. My feet rise from the ground and my knees are weak.

"I should've done this a long time ago," I hear him growl into my ear.

I've seen this before. I've peered down the stairs and watched him hold my mother like this against the wall. She always kept still—she always stayed quiet to keep him from growing angrier. And then he'd always let her go. He'd drop her after she became scared enough: scared to die choking and gagging for air.

But I'm not about to give up on this fight.

I scratch, hit, claw, kick, and squirm as hard as I can. The longer it goes on though, the less I can see. The heavier my limbs become the harder it is to breathe.

I thought he was just trying to scare me. But I was wrong: my dad's actually going to kill me.

In the corner of my mind I think about Steve. I remember him standing in front of me in a big mirrored wall gym in his cute running pants and no shirt.

"What if he comes up to you like this?" He speaks softly to me despite the way he's pretending to choke the life out of me. I can tell it pains him to fight me, even just pretend in this training way, and to lay his hands on me. His fingers are gentle as they try not to squeeze too hard on my windpipe.

"I—I don't know," I swallow stiffly.

"Think, Y/N. An agent's got you pinned to the wall, he's holding you here..." Steve's blue eyes bore into mine very seriously. He knows it's possible this could happen when he's not around. He wants me to be safe. "What do you do? What can you do to save yourself?"

I sweep my elbow up just like Steve showed me. And with my dad's arms weakened slightly, I can squeeze out of his loosened hold enough to breathe. In a gasp I throw my fist forward towards his face. I plant a blow to his nose that sends blood pooling out of both nostrils. When he staggers back I fall to my knees—out of breath and bruised.

I don't rest. I only allow myself enough time to cough and stand. Then I run. Oh god, I run so hard and fast that I can't even see my moving feet. It may sound weak that I ran. It's not weak. It's smart. Physically I'm no match for my insane, deranged dad. He almost killed me: I'm too smart to let him get that far again.

Running back towards the building I see three figures coming towards me. It's Kimmy—and she's brought Nick and Steve.

"Y/N!" Nick screams when he sees me. I'm surely a sight to see: blood and bruises everywhere.

Steve's fast to grab me. He's wrapped an arm around my waist and I slump my weight into him. His hand is on my cheek and wiping hair out of my eyes. "Oh my god, baby, are you...?"

"He's over there," I point and say. I push myself straight onto both feet and Kimmy's at my other side in a heartbeat. I look up at Steve and he blinks. I can see tears pooling in his eyes. "Beat the absolute shit out of him for me, Steve."

Steve nods hurriedly. He gathers my face up by the cheeks and kisses along my jaw lightly. When he pulls away the blues of his eyes are nearly gone: covered by blackness much like the moon with the sun.

Steve hesitates to leave me with Kimmy but he eventually steps away. There's the sound of a car starting up a few spaces away. It's my dad trying to escape.

My brother jogs next to Steve. "You're not going to stop me," I hear Steve growl.

Nick scoffs, "Not happening, Captain. I came to help."

Steve nods solemnly. "Good. Call the police." He spots my dad's car and how it's starting to pull away. He breaks into a jog. "And tell 'em there's no need to come anytime soon." He grabs the handle to the car door before the vehicle can go anywhere. Then, in one swift motion, he yanks it clean off. "I think we need to have a conversation, sir."

...

Hours later I'm perched on the corner of the hotel bed with a pack of ice to my cheek. Steve comes closer, drying his wet hair with a towel, and gingerly moves the pack away for him to see. He sighs at the sight of my dark blue flesh.

"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry." His thumb traces my lower lip lightly. He's on his knees in front of me on the bed. His arms move to wrap around my waist.

I smile softly—resting my chin on the top of his clean smelling head. "It's okay. He's never going to bother any of us ever again. That makes me happy."

"Yeah but it took him almost killing you to do it," Steve sighs into my stomach where I wear soft pajamas. He nuzzles his face into me. "I should've been out there sooner. I should've been by your side the whole time."

"You kicked his ass in the end," I remind him softly. I run my fingers through his soft blond hair. "And with your word, he won't even see a trial. He's going to jail. And when he gets out," I pause to kiss Steve's forehead, "I don't have to ever worry about seeing him again." Steve's big blues look up at me. "Because he knows I'll have you. I'll always have you."

Steve finally shows a sliver of a tiny smile. "You do." He closes his eyes though when he can't take the sight of my bruised neck any longer. His face turns back into my stomach where he breathes in the scent of my lingering perfume. "I love you so much," he mumbles groggily. He sounds tired and confused but very certain about the fact that he loves me.

I hold him against me. "Not as much as I love you."

Steve chuckles. He peers up past tufts of blond hair with a quiet thoughtfulness on his face. "You took my line."

"I did. And I kinda like it—I think I might keep it." I laugh and he grins.

"Alright. You can use it," Steve sits back onto his knees further as he gazes up at me. "Under one condition."

"Oh? And what is that?" I play with the ends of his hair as I ask.

"You say you'll marry me."

Suddenly, I freeze. I stare wide-eyed down at Steve and how serious he's become. "Are you...?"

"I'm not kidding." Steve, still on both knees, switches to only one. In the low, yellowy light of the motel bedroom he takes my hands. Pressing my knuckles to his lips his eyes never shift from my face. "I love you. I want to spend every moment of the rest of my life with you—protecting you. I thought maybe I could wait and take it slow. But then I saw you tonight... and I knew I'd be nothing if something had happened to you. So, Y/N, I ask you now: with absolutely no preparation and no ring... Will you marry me?"

I said yes. I said yes even though there was no ring. I said yes even though it was midnight and the romance was nonexistent in that dingy hotel room. But all the romance I'd ever need was lying there in his arms. So I said yes: yes because I knew despite everything Steve Rogers would be there for me. He'd always love me. He'd always hold me when it was cold. He'd dry my tears when I cried. He told me he loved me more: more than anything. He said there's nothing in this world that he'd ever cherish more.

Then, one day in late April a few years past, a nurse laid a baby girl in Steve's arms. Her hand clutched onto his finger and he cried. And then, in the dingy hospital room, the only thing that Steve could think to say was:

"Hey, baby girl... I promise to be a good dad. I promise. And I promise, I promise that no matter how much I love anything it'll never be as much as I love you."

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