Work Text:
The sun began to set over the city skyline and Steve insisted that they go outside and take in the sunset on the balcony of their brownstone in Brooklyn. He led her, hand in hand, outside into the warm early summer air, her light dress flowing in the gentle breeze. They seated themselves and Steve leaned into her, his back pressing against her chest, allowing for her arms to wrap loosely around his neck, one hand in his golden locks.
As gentle music played softly in the background, her mind began to wander to moments of Steve and what led her to fall so deeply in love with him, to the point that he became her husband, and to the moment they were currently in. Memories flooded her eyes as (Y/N) stared down at the man cuddled against her.
From the first moment (Y/N) saw him, he had captured her with the beauty of his soul. He had always been kind and gentle, like he was afraid to hurt her, he could be charismatic but also awkward and dorky, still trying to catch up to the 21st century after so long in the ice. She had no affiliation with the Avengers or SHIELD when they first met, she had been just a florist, selling her flowers from a little stand in Central Park when he happened to run by one morning.
From that morning on, they were inseparable. They went on dates every night, they moved in with each other after six months of dating, and they were married a year and a half after they met in a small ceremony that was them, the Avengers, and her family. (Y/N) watched him find Bucky and lose him again, she saw my new family fall apart and pick itself back up again, and she saw the things the public and even the Avengers never saw.
Being in the public eye meant Steve always had to be America’s golden boy, their sweetheart and savior, and he was never allowed to make mistakes or be human without consequences. With her, Steve could truly be himself, the loving, doting husband who went out of his way to make everything alright, even when it wasn’t. No one saw the man who loved to dance, even if he wasn’t the best at it, the man who could out draw artists like Van Gogh and da Vinci, and most of all, the man who isn’t perfect, with flaws that everyone has, but have been overlooked because of a title.
No one saw Steve like how (Y/N) saw him. Since the beginning of their relationship, she had always called him her “golden hour”, which for her meant more than he would ever know. She saw Steve as the man he wanted to be in public, who was affectionate, goofy, but still the gentleman he was known to be. He had always treated her with great respect and loved her to death, and she had done the same with him. (Y/N) was the first civilian to ever treat Steve like he was just Steve Rogers, who was just some guy from Brooklyn, not Captain America, superhero and Avenger.
(Y/N) began to come back to reality when she heard a gentle snore from Steve, and as her eyes began to focus, her hand stopping to rest in his golden locks, the perfect golden hour moment. (Y/N) smiled to herself, pressing her lips into his hair, taking in the scent of his shampoo as she savored the quiet moment that Brooklyn had to offer them, basking in the darkness of the night.
(Y/N) unwrapped her arms from Steve’s neck, the movements stirring him from his nap, sitting up only mere moments later to look at her under their fairy light covered balcony. Steve smiled at her, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers, staying for only a moment before standing, offering his hand for her to grab onto. She grabbed it and lifted herself up, allowing him to lead her into their home. Steve walked off into their kitchen to grab a drink and (Y/N) took a moment to close and lock the balcony door, remembering that moment with Steve before turning and leaving to go find him.