Out of the Shadows
Chapter One
"What do you think?" Steve asked, wrapping his arms around me from behind and squeezing me gently. I smiled and wrinkled my nose.
"I think it stinks."
"Hey!" he laughed, rocking me to the left and putting his head on my right shoulder, "I think it's awesome."
"Oh yeah, it's awesome alright," I turned around and looped my arms around his neck, grinning up at him, "But it stinks."
He brushed his thumb across my cheek and held it out for me. I could see dark red smeared across it.
"You need to wash up." He told me.
I shoved his shoulder and proved that he too was in need of a shower. We'd spent the past two hours painting our bedroom a brilliant shade of dark red, and there had been a few points when I had been unable to resist splashing him with my paintbrush. Evidently, he'd had the same problem.
"Well, it's going to look and smell great when we've finished." he murmured, looking around the bedroom proudly. The walls of our new one bedroom apartment in New York City had been a gross wheat color when we'd bought it a week ago, but Steve had promised to go out and buy paint to color the walls whatever shade I wanted.
The apartment had actually been a surprise for me. I'd been working alone in Mexico for a month, and as a welcome home present Steve had bought us our own apartment. It meant that we didn't have to live in the Stark Tower anymore, as we had been for the past eight months. We needed to move all our stuff in and paint everything, but after that, the apartment was really our home, and I couldn't wait.
"Come on," Steve murmured, hooking his arms around my waist and dragging me out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, "You need a shower."
I screamed as he turned the shower head on, a freezing jet of water splashed across my body, pushing both hands against Steve's chest. Laughing, he stepped under the shower jet with me, soaking himself too.
About an hour later, we stepped into our room in the Stark Tower. My hair was gently curling around my face as it started to dry, and Steve's splashes of red had started to streak. Grinning I reached up and kissed him softly, enjoying how warm he felt when he was next to me. His arms wound around my waist, pulling me even closer.
"I love you." He murmured, rubbing his chin against the top of my head. I smiled, feeling my stomach do backflips like it always did when he said that.
"I love you too, Steve." I whispered into his sweater. Still holding onto me tightly, he began to move backwards towards the bed, dragging me with him. As he dropped onto the sheets, I fell on top of him.
Giggling, I rolled into a ball and he moved onto his side, curling his body around mine. From here, I could just make out the gentle shadow of stubble. I'd never really seen Steve with anything close to a beard; he was always so clean cut that it seemed like I'd never see it. Maybe if I asked really nicely he'd stop shaving for a couple of days. Unlikely though.
"What are you thinking about?" He asked, his voice slightly disjointed because I couldn't see his face.
I shrugged, "Not much. Mainly what I'm going to eat for dinner..."
He inhaled deeply, and after a moments thought suggested cooking dinner himself. I declined the offer; last time we'd tried to cook he'd set fire to spaghetti, which until that point I'd never thought possible.
"Maybe Tony's already got something." he murmured, sounding a little hurt by my decline. I knew that he really wanted to try and cook for me - God knows how many times he'd tried already, each one ending in near disaster. Tony had already replaced three ovens because of failed attempts. One day I knew I was going to have to teach him - hopefully before we moved into our own place and it would be us replacing the ovens - but I was putting it off.
I sighed, "Perhaps you could do something simple. Tony's probably got the stuff for Stir Fry in the kitchen."
"Really?" he instantly perked up, and he wriggled down the bed so our heads were level. I could see the grin on his face.
"Yeah, sure. Just don't do it on your own, okay?" I started to get up, "Let me help you."
He shook his head, pushing me back down onto the bed, insisting that the meal would be his treat and he would get someone else to help. As he left, I could hear him pondering getting Pepper to help.
The door closed behind him, and I settled back on the bed, picking up my copy of 'To Kill A Mockingbird' and turning on the bedside light, smiling gently.
I was interrupted from my book about half an hour later to the sound of an alarm. Stumbling out of my room and into the corridor, I looked around, confused, with my brain not quite linking the alarm to Steve's presence in the kitchen. Bruce wandered out of the room opposite, looking just as confused as I felt.
After a moment it clicked.
"Steve!" I cried, running down the corridor towards the kitchen, where I could now smell the smoke. The kitchen door was closed, but when I opened it, a thick plume of smoke billowed out from it, making me cough.
"Steve?"
"Claire?" I heard his voice weakly reply.
"What the hell happened?" Tony came up behind me, sounding slightly out of breath. "Steve have you been fucking cooking again?"
Suppressing a laugh, I felt my way through the kitchen to the window, which I opened. Still coughing, I watched as the smoke cleared and I could make out two figures. One was Tony, standing irate in the doorway, and the other was Steve, guiltily flapping at the smoke with a tea towel.
"I thought you were going to find Pepper?" I asked, turning the oven off and trying to sound as un accusing as possible.
"I couldn't find her, and I thought it seemed pretty easy; I'd seen you do it before, so I thought-"
I cut him off with a series of coughs, and in an instant he was clutching at my arm, "Claire? Oh my god are you okay? Did the smoke - did it do something to you? Are you... Do you want me to get Bruce?"
Laughing and choking, I waved hi away, making my way into the hall to breath clean air. "I'm fine." I assured him, "Just not great at breathing smoke."
He looked at the floor, gnawing on his lower lip like a kid who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him, and slid on hand onto his cheek, tilting his face down so I could kiss him.
"The sentiment was very touching." I whispered in his ear.
"The sentiment was great, but what about my fucking kitchen?" I heard Tony snap from behind us, and couldn't help but laugh.
"I think it stinks."
"Hey!" he laughed, rocking me to the left and putting his head on my right shoulder, "I think it's awesome."
"Oh yeah, it's awesome alright," I turned around and looped my arms around his neck, grinning up at him, "But it stinks."
He brushed his thumb across my cheek and held it out for me. I could see dark red smeared across it.
"You need to wash up." He told me.
I shoved his shoulder and proved that he too was in need of a shower. We'd spent the past two hours painting our bedroom a brilliant shade of dark red, and there had been a few points when I had been unable to resist splashing him with my paintbrush. Evidently, he'd had the same problem.
"Well, it's going to look and smell great when we've finished." he murmured, looking around the bedroom proudly. The walls of our new one bedroom apartment in New York City had been a gross wheat color when we'd bought it a week ago, but Steve had promised to go out and buy paint to color the walls whatever shade I wanted.
The apartment had actually been a surprise for me. I'd been working alone in Mexico for a month, and as a welcome home present Steve had bought us our own apartment. It meant that we didn't have to live in the Stark Tower anymore, as we had been for the past eight months. We needed to move all our stuff in and paint everything, but after that, the apartment was really our home, and I couldn't wait.
"Come on," Steve murmured, hooking his arms around my waist and dragging me out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, "You need a shower."
I screamed as he turned the shower head on, a freezing jet of water splashed across my body, pushing both hands against Steve's chest. Laughing, he stepped under the shower jet with me, soaking himself too.
About an hour later, we stepped into our room in the Stark Tower. My hair was gently curling around my face as it started to dry, and Steve's splashes of red had started to streak. Grinning I reached up and kissed him softly, enjoying how warm he felt when he was next to me. His arms wound around my waist, pulling me even closer.
"I love you." He murmured, rubbing his chin against the top of my head. I smiled, feeling my stomach do backflips like it always did when he said that.
"I love you too, Steve." I whispered into his sweater. Still holding onto me tightly, he began to move backwards towards the bed, dragging me with him. As he dropped onto the sheets, I fell on top of him.
Giggling, I rolled into a ball and he moved onto his side, curling his body around mine. From here, I could just make out the gentle shadow of stubble. I'd never really seen Steve with anything close to a beard; he was always so clean cut that it seemed like I'd never see it. Maybe if I asked really nicely he'd stop shaving for a couple of days. Unlikely though.
"What are you thinking about?" He asked, his voice slightly disjointed because I couldn't see his face.
I shrugged, "Not much. Mainly what I'm going to eat for dinner..."
He inhaled deeply, and after a moments thought suggested cooking dinner himself. I declined the offer; last time we'd tried to cook he'd set fire to spaghetti, which until that point I'd never thought possible.
"Maybe Tony's already got something." he murmured, sounding a little hurt by my decline. I knew that he really wanted to try and cook for me - God knows how many times he'd tried already, each one ending in near disaster. Tony had already replaced three ovens because of failed attempts. One day I knew I was going to have to teach him - hopefully before we moved into our own place and it would be us replacing the ovens - but I was putting it off.
I sighed, "Perhaps you could do something simple. Tony's probably got the stuff for Stir Fry in the kitchen."
"Really?" he instantly perked up, and he wriggled down the bed so our heads were level. I could see the grin on his face.
"Yeah, sure. Just don't do it on your own, okay?" I started to get up, "Let me help you."
He shook his head, pushing me back down onto the bed, insisting that the meal would be his treat and he would get someone else to help. As he left, I could hear him pondering getting Pepper to help.
The door closed behind him, and I settled back on the bed, picking up my copy of 'To Kill A Mockingbird' and turning on the bedside light, smiling gently.
I was interrupted from my book about half an hour later to the sound of an alarm. Stumbling out of my room and into the corridor, I looked around, confused, with my brain not quite linking the alarm to Steve's presence in the kitchen. Bruce wandered out of the room opposite, looking just as confused as I felt.
After a moment it clicked.
"Steve!" I cried, running down the corridor towards the kitchen, where I could now smell the smoke. The kitchen door was closed, but when I opened it, a thick plume of smoke billowed out from it, making me cough.
"Steve?"
"Claire?" I heard his voice weakly reply.
"What the hell happened?" Tony came up behind me, sounding slightly out of breath. "Steve have you been fucking cooking again?"
Suppressing a laugh, I felt my way through the kitchen to the window, which I opened. Still coughing, I watched as the smoke cleared and I could make out two figures. One was Tony, standing irate in the doorway, and the other was Steve, guiltily flapping at the smoke with a tea towel.
"I thought you were going to find Pepper?" I asked, turning the oven off and trying to sound as un accusing as possible.
"I couldn't find her, and I thought it seemed pretty easy; I'd seen you do it before, so I thought-"
I cut him off with a series of coughs, and in an instant he was clutching at my arm, "Claire? Oh my god are you okay? Did the smoke - did it do something to you? Are you... Do you want me to get Bruce?"
Laughing and choking, I waved hi away, making my way into the hall to breath clean air. "I'm fine." I assured him, "Just not great at breathing smoke."
He looked at the floor, gnawing on his lower lip like a kid who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him, and slid on hand onto his cheek, tilting his face down so I could kiss him.
"The sentiment was very touching." I whispered in his ear.
"The sentiment was great, but what about my fucking kitchen?" I heard Tony snap from behind us, and couldn't help but laugh.
