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On the rare mornings you wake up in your bed and the even rarer mornings you wake up before him, you can’t help but feel a raw sense of awe as you blink the sleep from your eyes.
He is beautiful, more beautiful than anyone you’ve known and one of your specialties is knowing beautiful people. Sunlight pours in from the window and gives him a golden halo as he curls around himself, still asleep. He looks at peace this morning and that’s good. You both have had your share of waking up screaming, reaching for something you’ll never hold. But today the nightmares are held away and he smiles softly as he shifts.
Oh, God, you think. This is it. He is it.
There’s a hole in you. Now it’s literal, but it’s been there since you were a child. You’ve tried to fill it with anything you can think of: money, technology, sex, drugs, booze, Pepper—
Pepper.
You’ll never forget the look on her face when she sighed and said, “This isn’t working.” You’ll never forgive yourself for ruining something that should have been perfect. “You didn’t ruin it,” she always says. “We just weren’t right.” But she looks sad when she says it, so you don’t believe her, not really. And if you couldn’t make it work with Pepper, than you sure as hell couldn’t make it work with anyone.
And then there was Steve. Perfect, awful Steve who saw you for who you were the moment he met you and made you feel as worthless as you always thought you should feel. Steve, who apologized and meant it, who was five steps ahead in battle and three steps behind in modern life. Steve, who kissed you when you least expected it and stayed close when you tried to shut him out.
The first time he touched the arc reactor, he handled it with such reverence before leaning down and pressing his lips to the blue glow. You cried that night when he pressed into you, clinging to his neck and back as he whispered beautiful words that you’ve done nothing to deserve. He’s never mentioned it, but you know he noticed it. He’s good like that. Over time, he’s learned when it’s best to push or pull or just give you your space.
It terrifies you, the way you feel about him. It’s overwhelming and uncontrollable. You’ve laid more than you’re comfortable with at his feet, more than just your life, but your heart too, your thoughts. And you keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to finally see you for the monster you are and leave you, just as everyone else has before him.
“Shhhhh,” he says without opening his eyes. “You think so loudly.”
“Excuse you,” you tease. “I’m a genius. I’m allowed to think as loudly as I want.”
He smirks, bemused, and blindly reaches for you, pulling you into him. He is warm and vibrant and you don’t understand how someone like him could love someone like you.
“Shhhh,” he says again and presses a kiss into your hair.
You’ve given him too much and let him interrupt the peace and security of your solitude and in return you have received a puzzle piece that fits perfectly into the jagged grooves of the hole in your heart. So you lay aside your fears (for now) and enjoy the time you do have with him. You nestle closer, laughing softly when he shivers as you press your cold nose against his chest, and try to steal a few more hours sleep in the safety of his arms.