Brooklyn woke with her husband making love to her.
Normally when they had activities, it was rough and tumble, grunts, groans, bites, grabs, fingers digging, nails clawing. Sweat and spit drying, limbs and joints aching. Her body feeling like she had gone a few rounds in a fight with someone, and taken the hits. Sometimes she even hurt, deep inside.

But this was sweet, gentle, loving.

Soft touches, gentle kisses, stroking hands and whispered words of love and affection.
The orgasm she had was a rolling wave, as opposed to a massive earthquake. She was aware, long before it hit, that it was coming, and welcomed the sweeping pleasure with an arched neck braced by Steve's arm, her head digging into the pillow, her mouth open, and words of encouragement leaving her tongue. After the pleasure ebbed, she held him while he was buffeted by the same pleasure, accepting his hard final thrusts with joy, knowing she had helped him.

He fell beside her, his hips pressing in, keeping his cock inside of her for as long as possible, while she stroked his moist shoulder, pressing his lips to hers, until his breathing steadied, and his heart stilled. She took the opportunity to loop a leg over his, enjoying the feeling of his cock softening inside her, until the stretch wasn't so noticeable,inhaling his scent and letting her self drift in her head. Between the silence between them, and the call of the birds and insects outside the RV, there was a peace she hadn't known possible.

It would be similar to this, when they returned to New York. The house was on a road, yes, but far enough that the windows to the bedroom opened over the back yard. Traffic would be less, as well. It had been a slight issue, last night, for both of them, the silence of being in the forested camping area. They were so used to the sounds of the city buzzing outside the apartment, even at night, that the lack of cars and various other city sounds had been noticeable. Steve had figured it out, having experience it before during the War. But now there was an easier fix than forcing their bodies to claim the sleep they needed, either through sheer determination or sexual acts.

Steve had gotten up, about an hour of both of them trying to block the silence and nocturnal animal sounds, turning on his phone and finding a white noise app, quickly picking the sounds of a night time city to block out the lack of noise that was disturbing them.

One more round of fucking, because, honestly, who expected her to ignore her specimen of a husband when he was walking around naked? It wasn't to be borne. He had turned, his cock half hard, and she had reached for it, and before she knew it, she was laying on her stomach while Steve powered into her, pushing both of them into a climax that was as satisfying as it was quick.

She remembered falling asleep with his arms around her, his chin resting on her head, his chest pressed against her back while his legs tucked under and through hers, tying her to him.

After a while, she patted his shoulders, and shifted, letting out a small noise as he slipped from her pussy, frowning at the massive mess left behind by the many deposits he had left over the night.
Steve sighed, reaching down to stroke her leg, before scratching at his lower stomach.
"I was thinking of taking a run. Just a quick one." He told her, going back to stroking her leg. "Are you good with that? I don't want to fall out of practice, just because I'm on vacation."
"Yeah." She nodded. "Go ahead. I'm gonna wander down to the showers. Clean up for the day."
"Keep your eyes open." He frowned. "We don't know anything about anyone here."
"I'll be careful, Steve." She assured gently. "I have no desire to start off our honeymoon with having to tear out of here because I left a body in the bathroom."
He bent over her, kissing her. "I get it."
Rolling over, he stood up, groaning and stretching his back. He grinned, turning and swatting at her hip, before going around the bed into the master bathroom, shutting the door behind him. She listened while he urinated, before he washed his hands and came out, opening drawers until he found a pair of sweats and a tee shirt. She rolled onto her side, watching him dress, enjoying the view, before he pulled out a pair of socks and hunted for a pair of running shoes.

"Spare keys are on the hook by the door." He told her, tying his shoes, then standing up. "I'll be back before you know it."
"Same." She smiled. "Just a quick shower. Whoever gets back first has to make breakfast."
"Deal." He grinned wider, coming over to bend down and kiss her. "See you in a bit, Babydoll."

She watched as he grabbed his phone, sticking it in the pocket of his sweats, before leaving the bedroom, listening as he grabbed his keys, the slap of the door behind him as he left the RV. He locked it, and she smiled, rolling over again, stretching before pushing back the sheet, standing up and going into the bathroom. Brooklyn snorted as she put down the toilet seat, before taking care of her personal business, leaving the bathroom and dressing quickly in clothing she didn't care if she got dirty. Kitty had been smart, not only putting full sized bathing things in the shower in the back of the RV, but also making up 'shower bags', complete with small bottles of body wash, shampoo, conditioner and a shower puff, in mesh bags.

Brooklyn grabbed hers, slipping her feet into a pair of sandals, grabbing her phone and going towards the front of the RV, grabbing the key ring off the hook by the door, then carefully going down the stairs. She took a moment to breathe in the sent of the treed area they were parked in, noting that Steve had emptied out the grill, putting it by the RV to be packed up. Their chairs were still under the awning though, even if they had only really used one last night while making s'mores.

She locked the door, checking it before nodding, and heading off to follow the signs to the bathroom/shower building. She hummed off key, swinging the shower bag from her hand, stopping occasionally to look at a tree, or stare at a bird. It wasn't that she was so sheltered that she wasn't familiar with the outdoors. On the contrary, she had spent many a night sleeping under the stars, or battling the elements in an effort to find a bit of comfort enough to sleep. The novelty was in the ability to stop when she wanted to, to look at what she wanted to. No one to answer to, or tell her to keep moving, or 'Goddammit, Baby Girl, get your head down! You're a fucking target like that!'.

So, yeah there was a bit of an excitement in being able to stop and have the freedom to do what she wanted. And that was part of what this whole trip was about. Steve was giving her the freedom to choose what they did, where they went, what they saw. He had made it clear, if she wanted to stop, it didn't matter where, or why, he would stop.

And there were so many things she wanted to see! So many things she wanted to do! She wanted to stand in the pacific ocean, watching the sun go down. She wanted to find that place where the four corners of the states met, and lay there, looking at the sky. She wanted to go to that massive truck stop in Texas.
She wanted to enter Steve in as many of those food challenges as she could find. She had a feeling he was going to dominate. Other than her father, she had never seen a person put away so much food in one sitting.

She reached the bathroom/shower building, opening the door, stepping in and pausing. It was empty. But there was a strong scent to it. Disinfectant, proving that it was cleaned often, but an underlying scent of must and... decay. Yeah, this was a bathroom in the forest.

She snorted, but made her way over to the showers, opening one of the stalls, leaving her towel on the hook, before stripping, pausing to turn the water on, feeling the temperature and letting it run, while she finished taking off her clothes. She put them on the other hook, stepping over the ledge and pulling the curtain closed, hanging her shower bag on the hook on the wall.

She let the water fall on her, raising her face to it, pushing her hair out of her face, enjoying it. Long heated showers were one of the things she really enjoyed since leaving HYDRA behind. The ability to shower or bathe whenever she wanted was still novel, in it's own way. She had been greedy, after she had snapped out of what ever fugue had captured her the first weeks of freedom. She had showered whenever she had a chance, taking excuse after excuse to drain the water tank dry. It had evened out, until she was showering daily, sometimes twice when she worked in the club. But that was to wash the makeup, sweat, grime, and the feel of the sometimes wandering hands from her body. Now, it was daily to wash the sweat and bodily fluids left by the active sex life she now had with her husband.

For all his fetish to keep his cum inside her as much as possible, gravity usually defeated that. Not that he didn't try to put as much back as fell out. His stamina was something to be praised, based on what she had read and heard.

It was going to be difficult to keep up that regime of cleanliness, she realized, as she turned to make sure her hair was soaked through before reaching for the shower bag, pulling out the shampoo. As she squirted a small amount into her hand, she frowned, before scrubbing it through her hair, feeling the suds start to rise. The shower in the RV was more than adequate. That wasn't the issue. The issue was, that the water would need to be replenished often, and the gray water removed. The same with the latrine facilities. The waste would need to be removed. And six weeks was a long time to ignore all of that. Which meant, more than likely sooner rather than later, Steve was going to have to stop, and clean those out.
She paused, as the possible image of that drifted into her head, biting her lip to keep from giggling. The idea of Steve standing there with whatever they needed to do the job, while others stood around, amused her. She was going to have to take a picture of it, for future generations. Donate it to a museum, someday.

She continued washing her hair, running her hands through it to make sure the soap had been distributed, before leaning her head back against the spray, rinsing.

Brooklyn paused, hearing the door to the bathroom open, tilting her head to follow the sound. She pushed the edge of the curtain aside, tracking the footsteps as they got closer, freezing than relaxing when a hand fell on top of the door, opening it to reveal a grinning Steve, a towel over his shoulder and clothes in his hand.
"Save me any water, Babydoll?" He asked, as he came in, hanging his towel up with hers, followed by his clothes. "Figured we could be conservationists, and shower together."
She snorted, shaking her head, ducking back under the shower to make sure the shampoo was rinsed out of her hair. "Oh, and you figure that's gonna work for us?"
"Can't hurt to try." He joined her in the stall, pressing close and reaching up to help work her hair to ensure the shampoo was rinsed clean. "Besides, I like watching you bathe."
"You like watching me do a lot of things." She cracked one eye open to look at him. His lower lip was slightly pouty, his eyes watching her face. "I don't know if it's considered creepy or cute."

"Well, better or worse, I'm yours. Gonna have a lot of time to decide." His voice was pleased, even as he pressed closer. She felt a shiver as his cock pressed against her, not pushing, not being insistent... just... hard and pressed against her. "I think your hair is rinsed. Let me put the conditioner in?"

She nodded, letting him pull her out of the water, and turning their bodies so the spray was hitting his back. He used his hands on her hips to turn her to she was facing the wall, and she listened as he found the bottle of conditioner, and with the rude sound from the bottle, got some. His hands began massaging the product into her hair, and she felt herself relax as his fingernails gently scratched at her scalp.

"I don't think I've ever told you... how much I love your hair." He spoke loud enough to be heard over the water. "Thick, dark... I love the length. I think I would like for you to never cut it, if you can?"

She grinned. "I think that can be arranged. I never liked it when they cut my hair short. I mean, managing to keep my hair clean and brushed could be a hassle, but I didn't like the short hair. I mean, I think... in the seventies? Howard was still alive, and I don't think Tony had been born yet, I had a shorter cut. Because it was the style. And I needed to fit in. It annoyed me, though. The amount of care that had to go into it. The fluffing, the hairspray... all of it. And when I was out on missions? The fucking bangs kept getting in my face. When I was on base, though, I was able to put it up in a ponytail or a bun. Something, anything, to keep it out of my face. I was happier in the eighties. The hair length was longer. Curly, but longer. I could handle that."
Steve hummed, and began finger combing the conditioner though her hair, down to the ends. "I find it interesting, that women's hair styles have changed, so much over the decades, but men's hairstyles haven't really. I mean, it's become more acceptable for men to have long hair, even in a professional capacity, but for the most part, it seems to be the same. The facial hair... at least in the thirties? If you had facial hair it was an indication you were out of work, or slovenly. Clean shaven was the way to go, and it was an indication of good character. I mean, you could have a mustache or something like that... but Tony's facial hair? I don't think I'd ever seen anyone with something like that, before I went into the ice."
"it was important, as well, in HYDRA." She tilted her head back, letting him have full access to her hair. "Almost always, if they were sending him out, they made sure he was shaved. Partially because it made sure the mask fit better."

Steve's hands stilled a bit, but resumed. "I wondered. When I first saw him, with that dark shit on his face, and the mask... he looked... well, like a damn ghost."

"I hated that grease." She groused. "It was always a bitch to get off of him, afterwards. But he preferred it to the goggles. It made night work harder. Plus... sniper-work damn near impossible."
"On the bridge, he was wearing the goggles." Steve pointed out.

"Yeah. Day work." She pointed out. "They were....so determined to keep his identity a secret. That's why the picture you had, of the two of us together? That's why the was a bit of a shock. To have photographic evidence, and our call names...? Someone would have been shot over that."

"When was it taken?" He asked, finishing with her hair. "Done. Rinse first? Or body wash?"

"Body wash." She asked, turning her head to speak over her shoulder. "And... mid to late nineties? Maybe... god, I had a black eye, didn't I? Somewhere in the early nineties. We were spending a lot of time in Columbia. Attached to the CIA, at the time. The war on drugs. What a fucking laugh. We took down more of the dealers, stole their shipments and sent them under CIA protection. The money was funneled into HYDRA, and... god knows what it did to people. Not my proudest time. We were sent after this one guy, big mucky muck in Columbia. The issue was the local's didn't want our help. But... I guess he had been eating into the business that the CIA and HYDRA considered theirs. So, we went and got him. Let the locals have all the glory, of course. Because ghosts don't get credit."
"You're not a ghost. You never were. And you tried, Babydoll. I know you tried, when you got to New York. But how can a star that shines as brightly as you hide it's light?" He stepped back, and she heard him rustling with something before he came back, rubbing the soapy shower pouf over her shoulders. "I'm just lucky to be able to capture a bit of that light."

She smiled, letting herself relax into his ministrations. "Well, for someone so dim, it must be a relief."
He laughed. "More than a little, Babydoll."

She grinned wider, letting him wash her, turning when he asked her to. She ran her hands through his damp hair, as he dropped to his knees to wash her feet and lower legs. He was scrubbing at the insides of her thighs, almost to her pussy, when he paused.
"The hair is gonna grow back, isn't it?" He asked, brushing the pouf over her mound gently.
"Well, six weeks... yeah. I usually go in, every other week or so." She ran her hand down his neck, brushing the water off his shoulder. "Is that going to be a problem?"
"No." He shook his head. "I don't mind. In fact... I don't think I've ever seen you with pubic hair."
She shrugged. "I mean.. it's cleaner. And yeah, I think I've just gotten used to it, being bare."

He rubbed the pouf against her mound, before encouraging her to spread her legs a bit, so he could scrub at her lower lips. "It's up to you. If you want to keep yourself bare, I'll shave you, this entire time."

Brooklyn hummed in pleasure. "Would you really? Or would you just prefer to find a salon, and I go in?"
"I think...." He paused, while moving up to rub the soap into her stomach and hips. "I think I would prefer to shave you. Not anything against the people you use back home? But I don't think I want anyone to touch you, for the next few weeks. Just me."

"So, what?" She frowned. "What about my nails? I'm not gonna let those go. Broken nails hurt, Steve. Plus my eyebrows? Gonna have to get them done."
"And we'll stop for that. Find somewhere where you can get your nails and brows done. I'm fine with that. That's... more than okay. But this?" He cupped her pussy, making her arch into his touch. "This is my responsibility. If you want the hair gone, I'll be the one to take it away. Deal?"

"Deal." She breathed.

He grinned up at her, standing to work on her chest and arms. "Now that that is out of the way... where are we going, today?"
She began to tell him her plans, to go to Columbus, Ohio, to go to Schmidt's Sausage Haus, with the food and the cream puffs, while he moved her to stand under the spray, rinsing the soap off of her and the conditioner out of her hair. She watched as his lips twitched as she described the need to go have these cream puffs. To make sure they were real.

"How did you find out about these cream puffs, Babydoll?" He asked, when she wound down, his hands stroking her hair, to make sure it was clear of conditioner, she was sure.

"Travel Channel. They have this show? Man Vs Food. This guy goes around, shows where some of the best food in a town is. And he does eating challenges!" She grabbed the pouf from where he had placed it, feeling the soap that was still inside of it, and began rubbing it on his chest, washing away the sweat and whatever still attached to his skin. "Like, he did this one? It was a huge burger, with fries... like, over five pounds of food, in a certain amount of time. And he did it!"
"Uh huh." Steve sounded like he had his doubts. "And what did he get, for eating that obscene amount of food?"

"A tee-shirt. And his picture on a wall... like a hall of fame wall." Brooklyn reached under his arms, rubbing at his pits. God love Steve, but sometimes he could get ripe. She supposed, as his wife, it was her responsibility to make sure he stayed clean, and didn't offend anyone. She reached for more of the body wash, adding it to the pouf, the close quarters caused by how close their bodies were to each other causing her to get creative, but she managed it. After working the pouf for a bit, she returned to scrubbing him down. "Oh! And the meal is usually free, too."

Steve stopped what he was doing, looking down at her. "Wait. Wait, wait. He gets a free meal? Just for eating it?"

"Yup." Brooklyn tried to wash his shoulders, but with the way he had his arms over her head working her hair through the spray made it difficult. She settled for reaching down and rubbing at his stomach and sides. "Free meal, his picture, and sometimes a shirt."
"How long did he have?" Steve finished with her hair, and stepped back, giving her the room to wash him, while he reached for the shampoo, squirting some into his hand, and rubbing it to a foam in his own hair.

"I think that one he had an hour." She used the added space between them to lean down, rubbing the soapy pouf along his legs, ignoring his bobbing cock. For now.

Steve snorted. "Please. An hour? I could do it in less."
"Five pounds of food?" She looked up at him, blinking against the fine spray from the shower head. "Are you sure? I mean, I don't think I could even attempt it."

"Babydoll, I've seen you eat. You can demolish food with the best of them. I bet you could do it." He took her arm, pulling her up while he switched places with her, standing under the water and rinsing his hair. She sighed, shaking her head, bending down again to wash his legs.

"Steve, I struggle with food." She admitted. "I don't think I'm gonna push myself to do something like that."

"Brooklyn." His voice was serious. "We need to work on that, yeah. I know it, okay? But I'm saying... I bet you could do a challenge like that."

"No." She denied, shaking her head. Although, with a little more consideration, she wanted some of those tee shirts. They were like awards. But wearable! "No, I can't. But... you can, right? My big strong super soldier with a hollow leg?"
He looked down at her, rubbing his hand from his forehead back, pushing the water out of his face. "Yeah. I could."

"I bet... if you succeeded a challenge like that... you would want more than just a shirt and a picture on a wall, right?" She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her chin on his chest, looking up at him. "Something just for you?"

He grinned. "Are you negotiating?"

"Yeah, I am." She grinned back. "How about this? For every one of those challenges you enter, and win? You get to choose what I eat the next meal. Clean plate."

His hands landed on her hips, squeezing. "Clean plate? No arguing with me?"

"No arguing." she agreed.

Steve pursed his lips, indicating he was thinking it over. Then he nodded. "Yeah, okay. I can handle that. For every food eating challenge I enter, and win, I get to choose your next meal, which you will eat and clean the plate. No arguments. Do we have a deal, Mrs. Rogers?"

She felt a small shiver of pleasure as he called her 'Mrs. Rogers'. She was a Mrs. Rogers. She didn't understand why it pleased her so much to hear him call her that. But it did.

"Deal, Captain Rogers." She put space between them, offering him her hand to shake on their deal.

Steve raised an eyebrow, taking it and giving it two firm pumps, before bending down and kissing her. Pulling away, he licked her bottom lip. "Now it's a definite deal."

Brooklyn bounced a little on her toes. "And now.. I get to also send us on a course that is gonna hit as many of those challenges as possible."

And she was gonna get those tee shirts! Steve would be an easy touch, to convince him to have them give him the shirt in her size. And even if they didn't, it wasn't like she couldn't just steal them from him. He liked watching her wear his clothes, anyhow. Two birds, one stone.

"So, our honeymoon is gonna be road side attractions, bizarre things you see on the internet and travel shows... and food challenges." He laughed, rubbing her hips. "I can handle that."
"And sex." She nodded, patting his chest. "Lots and lots of sex. At least once in every state, right? That's what you wanted?"

He nodded, bending down to kiss her again. "I want that, yes."
"And museums... hopefully a fair! All the things people ignore, because they are so used to seeing them? That's what I want to see. That's what I want to experience." She reached up, stroking his neck, before cupping his jaw. And she finally gave voice to some of the things she wanted. "I want to stand in the Pacific ocean. I want to... I want to go to San Francisco, and go to the pier. The one in the movies? I want to go shopping on Rodeo Drive in L. A. There is a the world's biggest truck stop, in Texas. I want to go there, and buy a bag of their nuts. I want to go to the French Quarter, in New Orleans, and have pastries and coffee. I want to watch them throw fish in Seattle, and see the troll. I want to stand in the old growth forests, and look at things that were living before either of us were borne. And Steve... I want to go to Disneyland."

"Disneyland?" He gave her a questioning look. "Isn't that something we should do with Jules?"
"Disney-world, maybe." She nodded. "But I want to go to Disneyland with you. Its supposed to be the happiest place on earth, Steve. I want to know if it's true."

He nodded slowly. "Okay. We'll do all of that, as well."

"Six weeks. That's... not a lot of time, really, Steve." She tried to be realistic. "There is so much I want to do, so much I wanna see... six weeks...may not be enough time."

"Then we'll do it again, next summer." He shrugs. "Maybe take Juliana with us for a bit, as well."
She mulled this over. "You're promising me a regularly scheduled time off. Away from the team... away from everything."

"Yes." He nodded. "Now, I can't promise that it will be six weeks. This is kinda unusual circumstances. What with the moving the team upstate, and our new house being worked on. But I think, barring anything major coming up in that time, we can manage to get away for a bit."
"Because... I wasn't even thinking about Alaska or Hawaii." She rubbed his side, grinning. "First off, there is no realistic way for us to get to Hawaii in an RV, and Alaska takes us out of the country."
"Maybe one of those cruise things?" He suggested, pushing her back, sighing. He let go of her, and she allowed the space, watching as he began to put away the showering things back into the mesh bag. "That would be a nice thing to do, right? Spend a week or so on a boat?"

Brooklyn laughed. "We have just begun this vacation, and you want to start planning the next?"

"Hey, I like to have an idea set down." He shrugged, turning off the water and urging her out of the shower. He grabbed one of the towels, wrapping it around her, giving her a soft rub, before taking another one and wrapping it around his waist. He rubbed the water from his hair. "Besides, nothing says we can't have an eye out towards the future, and see what else we want to do."

She laughed. "I wanna see how much you can eat, and how fast."

"Well, that's something we are gonna do, then." He grinned, bending down to kiss her. "Now, be my good girl, and get dressed. We still have to eat breakfast, before we hit the road. I was thinking we would want to be out of here before ten."

She nodded, squeezing the excess water out of her hair. Dressing was quick, for all that she was putting clothes on over an inadequately dried body. But she managed it, using the towel while watching Steve tuck his hard cock away, getting dressed as well.

"You want me to help you with that?" She offered, pausing in drying her hair.

"Nah." He shook his head, pulling his sweats up over it. "I wanna get you back to the RV, and get some breakfast started. I'm starving."
Brooklyn laughed. "Well, if you didn't insist on starting your day with so much activity...."

He rubbed his hair again, flicking the water at her. "Really? You're gonna come at me sideways, because I woke you up with sex? Really?"

She laughed harder, collecting their things while he pulled on his shirt, before shoving his feet into his shoes bare. "Well, can you blame me? You wake me up like that, then go, yeah, I need to keep my training regime, so I'm gonna go run."
He helped her with their things, giving the shower and stall one last look while she slipped on her sandals. "If I'm gonna be doing all those food challenges for you, I need to make sure I work it off."
"Please!" She cried, laughing. "As if you will ever gain an ounce of fat! You burn it off too quickly!"

Steve laid an arm over her shoulder, walking her out of the shower building. "I gotta stay fit for my girl!"

*********

She loosened her grip on Steve as he slowed his bike to a stop near the bar and grill she had told him to find for lunch. Well, late lunch. Since it was after one pm. But close enough that he hadn't even raised an eyebrow at her.

He moved the bike into a parking spot using his feet, before turning it off completely, putting the kickstand down, then reached back with an arm to help her slide off, before getting off as well. Taking off his sunglasses, he nodded at the brick building.

"This the place?" He asked, his voice non-committal.

They had reached Columbus fairly easy. It wasn't that far, really, from where they had spent the night. Once they had packed everything up, and driven out to the office to check out, they had hit the road, Steve following the directions coming to him from the GPS. She spent the ride playing with the radio then leaning out the window, watching the scenery go by. Last time she had come through here, in March while on the run from that Ultron thing, she hadn't paid much attention, her attention and focus on keeping herself and her sister safe, as well as keeping her sister from having a melt down.

But now, she was able to pay attention to the farms and small cities they passed. It was amazing, in a way. New York was so clogged, so cluttered. The people and places were stacked on top of each other. Even the air sometimes felt like it was cluttered.

Here though, even though it was just Pennsylvania at first, then the outskirts of Ohio, the air was cleaner, the places more wide spread. She supposed it was unfair to compare any place to New York. The city was dealing with the fact that it had grown so much, that the tiny area it inhabited wasn't big enough to really support the spread needed to accommodate its constantly growing population.
Besides, there was massive benefits to being in New York that definitely outweighed the negatives. For one, no matter what she was feeling like, there was usually something open near by to accommodate her. The roads were familiar to her, now. She had family, of a sorts there. Whatever she needed, it was usually within walking distance.

Plus, Steve had been there.

So, huge benefit.

He found a place to park the RV, and while she was grabbing her messenger bag, making sure she had enough money to get them through the day, he was unloading his bike off the back, bringing it around to the door, before coming into the RV, waiting for her to say she was ready. She appreciated that about him. He rarely, if ever, made her feel like she had to rush to get out the door. He was more than patient to wait for her, no matter how long that took her.

She had thrown the strap of her messenger bag over her head, and let him take her hand and lead her from the RV, guiding her down the stairs.
Now, as they entered the bar and grill she had followed the directions on her phone to, she was bouncing inside. The trade off they had made in the shower was about to finally be tested. She had spent a few minutes, while Steve had cooked breakfast, looking up places that might be interesting in regards to their agreement. Sure enough, Columbus had provided.

A waitress led them to a table, and handed them menus, while saying she would return with their waters. Steve took the moment to look around the place, pausing with a frown when he took in the decor.

"What is this place?" He asked, leaning back in the booth seat.

"The Melt Bar and Grill." She responded, looking at the menu. There were a few interesting items that caught her eye. She might actually enjoy her own meal.

"Uh huh." He frowned again, turning, and pausing, before snorting. "Already, Babydoll?"
She looked where he was facing, seeing the adverts for the Melt Challenge. Shrugging, she returned to her menu. "You don't have to do it. I would understand completely if you bowed out. It's a lot of food. Lots of cheese. Five pounds worth of food. Thirteen cheeses. Three pieces of bread. Lots of fries and coleslaw."

He snorted. "So this is the opening volley?"

"Yup." She popped the last syllable. "Like I said, you can bow out. I would completely understand."
Steve folded his arms across his chest, raising an eyebrow at her. "You really think I'm gonna do that? When the reward is so.... satisfying? Choosing and watching you eat what is gonna be put in front of you? Nah. I'll take the challenge."
The waitress returned with water glasses, pausing at the last word out of Steve's mouth. "You're gonna do the challenge?"
He firmed up his jaw, nodding. "Yeah. I am."
"Cool." The waitress smiled. "I'll get the paperwork. Are both of you going to be attempting it?"
"No." Brooklyn smiled, grinning just a little. "I'm aware of my limits. I'm just going to have the Monte Cristo."
"Half or full?" The waitress pulled out a pad, jotting things down. "And side?"
"Full?" Brooklyn frowned, before nodding, realizing she would be able to eat everything. "And fries."

The waitress nodded, then turned to Steve. "And you want to do the Melt Challenge?"
Steve took a breath, settling back in his chair again. "Yeah. I do."
"Okay." The waitress jotted that down on her pad. "And are they any drinks I can get for you, while you wait?"
They ordered sodas, and the waitress rushed off, returning soon with their drinks and a piece of paper and a pen. After setting them down, the waitress handed Steve the paper and pen.

"Alright, so you need to read this, and sign it. It's basically a release form, saying you know what you are about to do, and if anything happens, we are not to be held responsible." She shrugged. "And that you have read the rules."

Brooklyn took a sip of her soda as she watched her husband look over the agreement paper, before signing it, handing it and the pen back to the waitress.
"Great! Everything will be out in a bit!" She took her tray and disappeared.

"So..." Steve picked up his soda, sipping from it. "Thirteen different cheeses?"
"And three slices of bread. Hand cut fries." Brooklyn grinned at him, excited. "And pickles and coleslaw."

He shook his head. "So eager to lose, Babydoll."
"Or win." She shrugged. "The way I look at it... either way I win. If you finish everything off, I get a cool tee shirt. If you don't, I don't have to worry about you choosing my food and making me eat everything."

He barked out a laugh. "Oh, so you're playing games. And who says you get the tee shirt? It's my stomach. I should get the tee shirt."
She reached out, taking his hand, stroking his palm gently with her fingers. "Steve.... are you really telling me you would deny me a tee shirt? A simple... cheap, cotton tee shirt? After everything you promised me, you would deny me that?"

He groaned out a laugh, turning his head to the side, shaking it. "Already with the manipulation. Pops warned me about this. Wives do this thing... and apparently you know how to do it as well."
"Well, I was trained in manipulation." She continued to stroke his hand. "And I really want that tee-shirt."
Steve shook his head, laughing harder. "Fine! Fine. If you want the tee shirt, you can have the tee shirt."

She grinned at him, pulling on his hand, bringing it up to kiss his knuckles. "Thank you, husband of mine. My great provider. My mighty hero."

"Don't thank me yet." He warned, pulling on his hand to return the gesture. "I haven't won you the tee shirt, yet."

They talked, while they waited for their food. Brooklyn expressed the desire to go to Chicago and see the Bean, and Steve nodded, agreeing. Things must have changed in that city, he explained, since the last time he had gone through. The idea of comparing things appealed to him, similar to how he had felt when he had returned to New York after waking up, he told her. As for Columbus, he didn't remember much about it.

She told him that she already had dinner picked out, as it was the reason they had come here. The sausage house, with the cream puffs. When he questioned her further, she told him it was located in German Village, and it was one of, if not the oldest German sausage makers in the city. All of that was interesting to her, the history itself, but what she was really after was the cream puffs. Ever since she had seen it on that one travel show, about the guy who went all over the country eating everything in sight, she had been wanting the try the cream puffs. The idea that someone had decided that they needed to even make cream puffs that big... Why?

The manager came out with their waitress, holding the large metal pan holding Steve's meal. He went over the rules while the waitress set Brooklyn's sandwich in front of her.

The rules were simple. Steve had to finish everything on the platter. He had as much time as he needed. He wasn't allowed to have anyone help him. If he got up, the challenge was over.
Steve listened, very serious, nodding the entire time, before he took a deep breath.
"Alright. Sounds fair enough." He stated, leaning back in his chair, as the manager set the food in front of him. Then he took another deep breath.
Brooklyn could see why, pausing as she cut her sandwich into quarters, to make it more manageable. The platter was covered in food. A huge pile of fries, a smaller pile of coleslaw with pickle spears put into place with toothpicks. But all of that was dwarfed by the sandwich, if it could even be called that.

Three slices of bread, as easily as big as Steve's hands, with cheese oozing over the sides, still crackling from the griddle.

Steve reached for the ketchup.

Brooklyn carefully picked up the first quarter of her deep fried sandwich, dipping a corner into the berry sauce provided, taking a bite, as Steve picked up fork, and dug in.

She would be the first to admit that she didn't believe in magic. Hocus pocus, woo woo stuff, miracles and the like. She didn't believe in a power greater than herself. Aliens and people from other dimensions had been on that list, until recently, and only because she had actually personally met Thor.

But it was magic, she would admit, to watch the food disappear. Steve made steady headway into it, using the excess cheese on the fries, breaking it up with the coleslaw, before actually picking up the first half of the sandwich.

He was halfway through the first half, when he paused, reaching for his soda and sucking back half the glass.
"It's rich." He admitted, swallowing another bite. "Very cheesy."

She shrugged, nibbling on her fries. "You can, at any time, admit defeat."
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say to Steve Rogers. His eyes glittered with determination, and he attacked the food with new vigour. She shouldn't have been surprised, but she would admit to that she was. Steve started plowing through the food, as though he was rushing through the lines of defenses of an enemy, and for the first time, she could understand why his personal catch phrase was 'I can do this all day'.

This was a man who would never back down from a challenge, be it food, someone playing fast and loose with freedom, or even his own wife.

She would freely admit to loving that about him.

She was more than halfway through her own plate, having finished her sandwich and working on the fries, when he gathered the last stray bits of food on his plate and putting them in his mouth. He chewed slowly, wiping his fingers with a napkin, before tossing it down on the platter while he swallowed. Reaching for his soda, he drained the last of it, setting it down with a thump, before holding his arms out a her, as if asking her what was next.

She made a disgusted sound, throwing down the fry in her hand. "Goddammit."

Yeah, he had won. He had won the tee shirt, the gift card, the right to have his picture on the wall. But he had also won a bit of control over her, as well. Normally, that would be fine. But she was human enough to admit her food issues were hers. Having him have that bit of control over it rankled a bit.

But... in the end, didn't she also win?

Besides, he was feeling pretty proud of himself right now, if his body language was anything to go by.

The waitress stopped by, and seeing the empty platter, began to clap and whoop, making a big deal about a man who basically had a fucking hollow leg finishing an amount of food that might actually keep him full for an hour, max.

The manager came over as well, shaking Steve's hand, before holding up a camera and taking a picture of the fucking idiot holding the empty platter. Steve signed his name, handing the photo back, before being asked about the sizing on the tee shirt.

Steve looked at her, and smiled. "Small, if you don't mind? Medium, at the largest. It's for my wife. She's the one who pushed me to do the challenge."

And Brooklyn melted.

All the feelings of resentment towards having to uphold her side of the bargain disappeared. He had done the challenge, not just because of the ability to win the right to choose her next meal and make her eat it all. He had done it to make her happy.

And that was worth having to eat god knows what sort of meal the next time they sat down.

****************

They ended up spending the rest of the afternoon wandering Columbus. They looked at the botanical gardens, though the fence, neither feeling the need to go in, but able to admire the buildings, and grounds. A drive by the state capital building made both of them tilt their head, politics not being a real interest of either of them, despite Steve ritualistically watching the news to keep up with the changing policies of the country. They did a quick walk through the topiary garden, enjoying the figures, before finally pulling into the Kings Complex art gallery. Steve had seen the signs for it, and apparently his old artist's soul demanded to be fed culture.

She sniffed, as he paid the fee, and led her in. They wandered through the different exhibits, none of it really striking any cord with Brooklyn. That was, until they walked into the exhibit on the slave trade.

Brooklyn wasn't ignorant. She had been taught about slavery. It had been the basis for labor in the United States for over a hundred years, and it had been the root cause of the Civil War. And the aftermath of the Civil War had sown the seeds of modern day racism and hatred.

But she had never been brought face to face with it.

It had been an abstract concept, that she would reluctantly admit, she honestly didn't think would affect her.

Her own past aside, which in no way compared to what hundreds of millions of people went through for decades upon decades, she had never reflected on what slavery actually was. She had fought the Russian Mafia to free the girls they had been trafficking, desperate to save those souls from the future of being used up until they were thrown away, but it had no way been near the level of the slavery that had brought the Africans to the American shores.

Walking through the replica slave ship, looking at the history and the exhibits, as well as the art on display that was relevant to the subject, she had to pause, more than once and realize that she had stood proudly on her actions, but the podium she had placed herself was made of sand, compared to the level of trafficking that had happened through history. The girls she had freed had been a drop in an ocean. A few rocks on a mountain.

Nothing she was ever gonna do was going to change what had happened.

Not that it had been the reason she had done it. It had been the right thing to do. Freeing those girls had been a personal need, for her. She had freed them, because somewhere in her head, she wished someone had freed her.

But there was also a realization, that maybe she had been privileged in her captivity, in a way that these people, ripped from their families, sold to people who didn't give a shit about them, who worked them until they dropped, and then were either sold again, or killed off, never had been given. She had never been ripped from her family. Her siblings had died, yes, but for the most part, they had been treated with as much privilege as she had been afforded. Her father, while it had been a constant threat, had never actually been removed from her. She had been moved around, but for the most part she had been treated like she was a precious item, compared to these poor individuals.

It also raised a question she had never asked herself.

Was she racist?

She associated with people who spoke down about those different from them. The Marino's, for all their accepting of those different from them, were still firmly rooted in their Italian heritage. And for the most part, African Americans were seen as lesser than them. They had never been vocal about anything in regards to Wilson. On the contrary, based on the help he was giving her, they had always been welcoming to him.

But she had heard the slurs and the degrading terms used by some of the lesser men. And God knew, you couldn't walk down the streets of New York without hearing someone saying something degrading or slur related.

After the exhibit, Steve made his way to the bathroom, complaining about the amount of cheese he had eaten at lunch. Brooklyn fished out her phone, and after a moment's debate with herself, she unlocked it and pulled up Wilson's number.
She held it to her ear, looking out the window at the grounds, as it rang.

"Hey." Wilson's voice was surprised, when he answered. "It's like... day two of your honeymoon. What could he possibly have done, so soon?"
"Am I racist?" She asked, without preamble. "I mean... am I racist, towards people like... well, like you?"

Wilson was silent, then he took a deep breath. "What brought this on? Not that I'm angry. I always encourage people to question their possible racism. But, I gotta know what is making you question yours."
She explained about the exhibit. How it made her feel small, and privileged. How she felt her personal pride in freeing those girls leave, when faced with the scope that people who may have been her ancestors where worse than HYDRA.

Wilson didn't judge her, just listened, until she slowed down.
"Okay. So... yeah. That's a lot." He sighed. "I forget, sometimes, that you haven't been exposed to... all of that. And what you were... was watered down."

"Yeah." She rubbed her face. "I have to... am I?"

"Not... really." He hedged, before groaning. "Okay, look. You have moments... when I feel like you are looking down on me. But I try not to take it personally, or attribute it to my skin color, because... honestly, Queenie? You look down on like... ninety five percent of the people around you. And sometimes you... it's not verbal. But you ignore what's around you, a lot. You have focused on the females of Brooklyn. And that's fine! It's admirable! But... have you looked at those who are being harassed because of their skin color?"

She bit her lip. "It never occurred to me. And that's my privilege."

"Yes." he agreed. "That is. But I... I don't think less of you, because of it. I don't think you're racist, Queenie, is what I'm trying to say. Ignorant and oblivious is not the same as racism."

She turned her head, looking at the men's room door, before letting another question leave her. "Were your people... did they come here, like that? In those ships?"

"Yes." Wilson's answer was firm. "My parents can trace their grandparent's families back to when the ships brought them over. Before that... we don't know. People were brought over, their names changed, their families ripped apart... it was a horrible existence. But... they gained their freedom, eventually. And now... I am proud of them, for surviving that. Because it made them strong. And it makes me strong, remembering that."
She sighed. "What can I do, to help?"
"Nothing, not right now." Wilson sounded amused. "It's a heavy topic. One that... well, a conversation over the phone isn't gonna help. When you get back... we can sit down and talk. For now, Just... enjoy your honeymoon. The world will keep turning, even if the White Queen is on vacation. Okay? Just... enjoy yourself."
"You're too good a person, Wilson." She murmured, turning to look at the grounds out the window again. "You know that, right?"

He laughed. "Nah. I just call things like I see them. And you? You are a good person, in your heart. Even if you try to deny it. Maybe next time... a call about something less heavy? Send me a photo of the Pacific Ocean. Maybe you sitting in the sand? A good thing, okay?"
She shook her head. "We're gonna get there."
"Good." Wilson sounded pleased. "Now. Get off the phone with me, and focus on your husband."
She laughed, saying her goodbyes, before hanging up and putting her phone away. She leaned against the window, looking out, until Steve came out of the bathroom.

"Everything okay?" She asked, before stopping and taking a moment to realize how fucking stupid it was to ask him that question.

He grinned. "Fine. Just... You wanna move on?"
They left the gallery, discussing if they wanted to try their hands at the military museum. Steve was all for it, interested to see how some of the museums portrayed his work during the war.
Brooklyn took a great deal of joy in poking fun at him for it. Commenting that he only wanted to go, because of how his ego needed to be stroked.

He threatened her good naturedly, promising her a few swats when they got back to the RV, but was willing to bypass the museum. In the end, they agreed to head to the sausage house, so Brooklyn could get her cream puffs.

German Town, which had been traditionally settled by the German nationals that came to Columbus, following the railroads and the stockyards, was heavily restored and original. The brick roads, the brick buildings, the quaint beer haus's, all leaned towards that air of a traditional German village. Ignoring that it was smack dab in the middle of America.

Steve followed the directions on her phone, turning down a dead end street, slowing the bike down, as they approached the restaurant.
"Schmidt's Sausage Haus." He read, his voice shocked, as he braced the bike with one foot. "Schmidt."

"I..." Brooklyn blinked, before resting her forehead on his shoulder with a groan. "I didn't think about that. We can go somewhere else."

He was shaking, and she was worried that she had upset him.

"Really, Steve! We can go somewhere else!" She raised her head, placing her chin on his shoulder. "It's okay."
"No." He shook his head, laughter leaving him. "I just... I cant... Schmidt! Fucking Schmidt!"

He laughed for a few minutes, before he raised his head, turning to brush a kiss on her temple.
"I can't get away from the fucker, even if I tried." He sighed, grinning at her. "But you said they've been here a hundred years or so?"
"Yeah." She nodded, frowning. "That was what the information said."
"Well, then they aren't connected." He grinned wider. "Besides. Schmidt is like... the German version of Smith. So... common name. Let's go see how well their sausages are. And you want a cream puff."

She nodded, as he went to park the bike. As soon as he urged her to, she slid off, adjusting her messenger bag, excitement filling her. These cream puffs had to be a lie. They had to. There was no way someone would be ambitious enough to make cream puffs the size of a head and then sell them to the general public. They had to be breaking some sort of law. They had to be.

Steve looped an arm around her, as they walked to the restaurant. "So, you're finally gonna get one of those cream puffs you've been after." He grinned down at her, pulling off his sunglasses. "What are you going to be after, once you do?"
"Still gotta go see the world's largest ball of string." She nodded firmly. "And I gave you a list, this morning, of things I want to do. So... this? One off the list."

He pressed his lips against her head. "God I fucking love you."

"Well, I'm glad. Because unless I divorce you, you're kinda stuck with me." She giggled.

Steve huffed, his breath moving the fly away hairs knocked loose by her being on the bike with him. "And that is never gonna happen, Babydoll. Never, ever gonna let you divorce me."
She laughed. "And how would you stop me?"
He put his hand on her arm, pulling her so she turned to face him, bending his head and kissing her. She felt herself melt into his embrace, looping her arms around his neck, her knees going weak as he deepened the kiss. Every cell in her body jumped, excited, and she molded her body to fit his, when he pulled her in tighter. The whole world dropped away, until it only encompassed the two of them, the sun and moon moving just for them.

Steve raised his head, his eyes heavy and his lips slightly pouty. "That's how, Babydoll."

She blinked, her mind blank, before what he was saying caught up with her.

Brooklyn frowned. "Dirty pool."
"Yes." He nodded, kissing her lightly, his tongue brushing against hers briefly. "Very, very dirty pool. But... I'll play as dirty as I need to, to keep you right where you are, Brooklyn."

"Huh." She still felt like her brain was catching up to the words that were coming out of his mouth. "How much dirtier can you play? Really?"
He pursed his lips, before licking them and looking away. His voice dropped, a dark edge to it. "Oh, Babydoll... the things I would do? To make sure you stayed mine? I don't even think the world would be ready for them." He took a deep breath, before slowly letting it out. "So, cream puffs."
She swallowed hard, trying to calm herself at the way his tone excited her. She had always known there was that edge to him. She had seen it, more than once, glimpsing it just beyond how he acted. It was there, so tempting to reach out and coax into the open. The part of him that she knew he had to touch sometimes to survive some of the fights he had been in. Brooklyn would be a liar if she said she didn't want to see more of it.

But now was not the time.

Someday, maybe.

"Yeah." She took another breath, licking her dry lips. "Cream puffs."
He took her hand, walking towards the front door. "As big as your head? That can't be possible, Babydoll."
"That's what I've been saying!" She cried, so relieved he got it. "It has to be against the law or something, right?"
"Maybe." He nodded, before winking. "Then again, maybe not. But don't forget.... I choose your dinner." His hand squeezed hers. "And you have to eat everything on the plate."
"Yeah." Brooklyn sighed. "I know."

A/N: I dont know if its the amount of detail i'm researching or what, but these chapters are harder to get out than White Queen. Oh well. Enjoy!

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