Baking Cakes

baking cakes june 5 2017


*a Chris Evans fan fic*

by avenger-nerd-mom

Chris gets some time away from filming to surprise his wife Emery at their Savannah home.  He knows it will be a difficult visit, but home is where he is needed.

Word count: 2481

Drabble inspired by the cover photo in my collection.  It was found on Pinterest of actress Rachelle Lafevre, the “faceclaim” for Emery Thomas Evans.  Emery has been telling me parts of this story for weeks, and it’s a plot point I’ve known would happen since I began writing their tale in 2015.

Rumors of sightings in Atlanta and Chris’s birthday coming up prompted me to sit down and write this chapter.  The thing I’ve always loved about Emery&Chris is the fact that even though he’s a famous movie star, when he’s with Emery, he’s real.  And real life shit happens.  This is just a step on their path; no matter what happens, they’re together “till the end of the line.”

Warnings: Real life, Marriage, Language, Fluff, pain, loss, tears, depression, angst, fertility issues, insecurities, anxiety, family support

Based on these warnings, if you would like more information on this chapter before reading, please send me a message.  I do not want to give away any plot points to the story, but I also don’t want to trigger emotional distress for any of my readers.

Click here to find out more about Emery & Chris!

June 2017

“Lucy, I’m home!” Chris calls out in a silly voice, reminiscent of an old TV show.. The door bangs open and West’s barks echo through the house; happy her favorite playmate is home.

“Shit,” comes the muttered response from the kitchen.

Dropping his bags at the door, Chris chuckles, grabbing a stack of mail from the shelf on his way past.  “Is that any way to treat your returning war hero?”

Emery whirls around quickly stretching her arms wide on the counter to hide what’s behind her.

“Oh, honey.  Fuck.  Do you gotta come home in costume?  I think my panties just burst into flames,” she giggles.  “But… but.  You gotta go away.” Her mood changes and panic crosses her face.  “Go do…  something.  Go to the mancave and get a beer, or take West for a walk or something.”

“Emery Rose!  I have not seen my wife in… in what?  Seven days?”  He holds up his hands in surrender when she starts waving a spatula at him.  “No welcome home kiss?  Aren’t you- Em, are you hiding something?”

“Chris, go away! Please!”  She begins to pout when he dodges right and left to try to get a look at what she’s hiding on the new island counter.

Tossing the mail onto the table, he moves closer. “What is it?  Let me see!”  He says, finally grabbing her wrist with the cream covered spatula.  He raises it to his mouth and tentatively sticks his tongue on it.  “Buttercream.  My favorite.”

“Chris!  No. Stop.  You’ll ruin the surprise,” Emery nearly cries, her eyes welling up.

The handsome movie star freezes in his tracks.  “Alright. I’ll stop.  If you won’t walk away from whatever it is, then follow me to the living room.”

Still holding her by the wrist he begins to walk out of the room and she follows him, only to have been tricked when he twirls her around to see what she was hiding.

“Oh my God, Em.  Really?”  He steps forward, his own eyes starting to mist over.  “Is that for me?”

“Well, actually no, this one wasn’t for you.  It’s a practice cake.  I’m still working on getting it down perfect.  There’s a bubble in the fondant and-”

The counter is littered with bowls, measuring cups and egg shells.  In the center of the mess sits a round cake on a spinning wheel platform, slightly lopsided and only half decorated.

“Emery,” he pulls her close, truly looking at his beautiful wife for the first time since he’d walked through the door of their small Savannah home.  It’s theirs now.  It’s where they fell in love.  He’s not about to let it go.  He pushes her red curls back, seeing the flour dusting across her cheeks, covering the cute freckles he loves.  “You made me a cake from scratch?”

“Yea, well,” she shrugs.  “You told me to find something to take my mind off things.  I wanted to surprise you, so I’ve been taking some cake baking and decorating classes.”

“But my birthday is still a few days away…” He says, delivering a faint wisp of a kiss to the tip of her nose, holding her tight and trying to keep the tears at bay.

“I know.  This was a practice.  I was gonna take it over to Mom and Dad’s tonight so we could sample it.  Then next week I was going to make the real one- Susan was going to let me come to their rental house and use the big kitchen there and then I was going to bring it to the set and surprise you.  So, surprise!” she giggles, wiping away her tears.

“Robert’s wife?”  She nods and he wipes her tear stained cheeks.  “Stop crying.   The flour and the tears will make a paste on your cheeks…  I promise, I’ll still be surprised.”

She taps her fist against his muscular arm.  “Fool, you know that’s not why I am crying.  I cry all the time; it just won’t stop.”

He holds her tight and let’s the wave of sobs wrack through her little body.  Her pain is killing him and there is nothing he can do.  “Shh, shh… it’s okay, honey, I’m home now.  We got this; we got this.”

When the tears stop, she hiccups a little and reaches behind her for the bowl of frosting.  It’s hardened during the short period of time and is no longer useful.  “Well, I hope you think it looks good as is, ‘cause I can’t finish it now.”

“It’s perfect, kitten, just like you,” Chris says against her temple.  He steps back.  “I should have told you I had some time off, but it really came up quick and I wanted to surprise you.  You have other plans?  A hot date?”

Shaking her head, she wipes her nose on her sleeve.  “Just with Mom and Dad.  They wanted me to come over for dinner; he was gonna grill burgers, but I can cancel and we-”

“No, no.  Actually nothing sounds better right now than a real burger and a beer.  Why don’t you go get the shower going and I’ll give them a call and tell Mom to cook for one extra?”

He hides his concern for her, not collapsing in the kitchen chair until he hears her enter the bedroom.  Banging his fist on the table he holds in his own despair, trying to be brave for his wife.  But right now, he could really use a dose of Mom and Dad too, and his own are too far away.  He punches in the familiar number on the keypad and the Southern twang on the other end instantly brightens his mood.  “Hey, Mom.  Got room for one more at dinner?”  he asks quietly, trying to keep it together.

His mother-in-law, Anita, instantly knows his chest is tight and he’s holding in his own feelings. “Oh, Chris.  Of course.  There’s always room for one more.  Sounds like the whole gang might be here; is that too much?”

He shakes his head, digging in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes, wishing he hadn’t given them up for Lent at his new bride’s insistence.  It’s an old habit but he really could use one now.  She’s not even Catholic, and he doesn’t practice anymore, but she’d required they both make one positive change in their lives to remember the season of rebirth.  He rolls his eyes and smiles.  “I don’t know, Mom, what do you think?  I… I came home because I may have to work hard, long hours the days right around my birthday.  I mean, they gave me time off when I needed it, but that messed up some schedules for other people and now I feel like I’m paying for it.”

“Chris, honey, you can’t control any of that.  If anything, this is just a lesson in how little control any of us really have.  The good Lord works in ways we don’t understand and-”

His gut twists and Chris interrupts.  “I really can’t over the phone, Mom.  I haven’t been home in two weeks; we had a great time when Emery was in Atlanta with me last week; but if you don’t think Em can handle the family all together, she and I can do something else for dinner tonight.”

“Nonsense, son.  I think she’ll be okay; it’ll be good for you both.  It’s actually been easier on her since she finally put it out in the open and started talking.”

“Alright, Mom.  Hey, did you know she’s been learning to bake cakes?”

“Oh, child, let’s hope this one is better than the ones a few weeks ago.  They were like lead bricks in my stomach for hours,” she teases.

Hanging up the phone, Chris turns to admire the blue cake with white stars.  He can see the red frosting mixed and hardened into a bowl and smiles at the design she must have planned.  The outer layer of frosting is tough, but stabbing the knife through it, the inside is edible and he carries the bowl and knife with him to the room.

He’s surprised to find her laying on their bed, playing with her wedding ring.

missing him.png

He sucks in a breath and sits on the bed next to her.  Offering her a dab of frosting, she huffs and shakes her head ‘no.’  They sit in silence and he continues to lick the frosting from the end of the butter knife, humming his delight.  Emery stares at her ring, rolling it in her fingers, her elbow now rested on his knee.

“Chris?  Are you ever sorry we got married?”

“Oh, hell, babe.  How can you even ask that?”  Wiping his hand over his face in frustration, he then pulls his shirt out of the waist of his pants, wanting more room to move.  She continues to stare at something only she can see, avoiding his eye contact. “Emery, I know these first six months have been tougher than we thought, and we never expected any of this.  You were sick most of the winter, your grandmother’s passing and then…  Well, and then... “  His throat chokes on the words and he can’t bring himself to say them.   “It was just a lot of stress on you; on us.  But no.  I still know marrying you was the best decision I’ve ever made in my whole damn life.”

Leaning forward, he places the bowl on his bedside table.  He kicks off his shoes and lays down next to her.  On his side, he watches her, thinking of the freckles on her face and how he adores them.  Her long lashes flutter closed and she rolls her head to look at him.

“What if that was our one shot?  What if something isn’t right and we can’t have kids; would you be sorry then; if I can’t give you what you want?”  Her voice shakes and he can barely hear her whispered words.

His hand takes hers and he carefully pries the ring from her grasp, sliding it back on her finger where it should always be.  Where it will always stay.  He kisses her hand gently.  “I married you for YOU, not what you can give me someday…  You know the doctors said we’re both fine.  All the antibiotics and steroids you took when you were sick; we weren’t even trying.  I mean, how often does the pill fail?”

Holding his hand tight, she scoffs.  “Are you asking for a statistical lesson?”

Placing his hand on her hip, he pulls her close.  “No, kitten, I’m just begging you not to sink into it too low.  All those medicines in your system; that baby just wasn’t a fighter like his mama.   We’ll really try again when you’re ready.  And you know if it doesn’t work, there are so many other options for kids,” he sighs.

“You’re right; I know.  It’s just…  Is it crazy to miss something the size of a peanut?  I mean, he wasn’t even kicking yet.  But he was a part of us, you know?”  Tears escape her eyes and she tries to wipe them away.

Wrapping his arms around his girl, he rolls her over on top of him, squeezing her tight, trying to hold her together.   He cradles her head to his chest as the salty tears gather on his shirt collar.  He loves that she thinks of their lost child as a him, although at only a nine weeks along, they had no way of knowing the gender.  His wife is always so strong and tough, a steel magnolia, so he finds her insecurities unsettling and struggles with his own pain and sadness at the loss.  They’ve talked about it, and therapy has been good for them both. He doesn’t want to be an ass and just tell her to ‘move on.’  He’s hoping in time this pain will be less and she’ll start to be more herself.  But time and patience is all he can give her now.

“I understand, sweetheart.  I feel the same.  Like there’s nothing to physically mourn, but there’s a whole in my chest.”

She sniffles again and he’s pretty sure she wiped her nose on his shirt.  “You know, all this has been rough.  I picked cake baking because it reminds me of something MawMaw Dalia used to always say.  She said havin’ kids was like baking cakes.  Everything has to be balanced just right for the cake to rise and not to open the oven door too much, ‘cause the cake knows what it’s supposed to do.  She said the same with kids, balance them right and they’ll grow up with what they need, and they’ll rise to do what they should.”

Chris can’t really wrap his head around the Southern analogy, so he stays quiet, simply running his fingers through her long red curls.

“So I keep baking cakes for practice and taking them to the schools where I work.  Teachers love to hear there’s food in the workroom.  And I keep telling myself our cake just wasn’t balanced this time.  I cry a lot and then I make another cake.”

“Whenever you’re ready, we can practice again, making our ‘baby cake.’  I’d really like to have lots of practice,” he laughs.  “Lots of it.”

Pulling away from him, she wipes her tear stained face for what seems like the thousandth time. Looking down into his beautiful blue eyes, she can’t help but laugh with him.   Her teary, red shot eyes rest against his suit and she cocks her eyebrow.  “Well, seeing as how you came home dressed like Steve, maybe later tonight you could convince me to help you rehearse?”

“Oh no,” he chuckles, relieved to have lifted her even just slightly from her sadness.  “Tonight, I’m having sex with my wife, if she’ll let me; not Steve.  I mean I know we like that role play every now and then, but tonight it’s just us.  After dinner with your family, of course.”

“Mr. Evans, I still didn’t get that shower.  I got lost in my thoughts.  How about you join me, and help wash all my troubles away.”

“Well, Mrs. Evans, I think that sounds like a lovely plan!  And then some of that cake?  It’s looks amazing, and I don’t think I can wait till dinner.”

Sliding down from his body and rolling off the bed, she stands and pulls her flour dusted tank top over her head, tossing it to him.  Remembering the night she first told him she loved him, a thought jumps to her mind.  “You always did want dessert first; come on.  Let’s clean up, Jelly Bean, so we can get dirty.”  She winks playfully, a lift to her spirits as she runs off to their bathroom, squealing when he finally catches up to her and spins her around in his big, strong arms.

Author’s Note: R.I.P. “MawMaw” Nadalia- March 3, 2017.  Author’s license was taken from something I once said to my husband about baking cakes and raising children, but was given here in memory of my grandmother.

Click here for the next Emery&Chris story, Online Shopping

Copyright © 2017  avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom



Play It Through

play it through aug 20 2016

Play it Through

an Emery & Chris story

* a Chris Evans fan fiction*

by avenger-nerd-mom

Chris shows signs of cold feet and Scott gives him the brotherly advice he needs to hear

Warnings: Language, Pre-wedding jitters, Smoking, cats, anxiety

Word Count 1990

Sitting out near the 9th hole, Chris and Scott continue their chat, their golf game on hold due to the rain. Chris has angled the cart just right so that Scott is getting pelted in the morning shower that popped up unexpectedly.  He smirks each time Scott wipes the rain from his face.

“Dude, have you seen Emery’s list of songs for the DJ?” Scott chuckles, looking over the notes on his phone as part of his duties as ‘Best Man.’

Chris guffaws, shaking his head. “I’m sure it’s some fucked up list. Let me guess? Garth Brooks, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Meghan Trainor, Louis Armstrong?  And to be a brat, I bet she put JT on the list too… Am I right?”

“Man, you two need to be on a newlywed game show,”  Scott laughs, nodding his head to show his older brother he’s a hundred percent correct.  “You know each other so well.  You’d take home all the toasters!”  Scott shakes the rain off his windbreaker, hoping his brother will take the hint and move the cart.  But the rain seems to be matching the older man’s mood, so he rides it out, figuring maybe the storm clouds will loosen his brother’s tongue if he waits long enough.

After several minutes of silence, watching the rain, listening to the far away rumbles of thunder, Scott can’t take it anymore.  “Dude, are you two still arguing?  It’s petty shit. You need to man up and let it go.”

“Pick a topic. Any topic and we are probably arguing about it.  Yes, it’s petty but she should have known.”

“Man. Lighten up. She already explained it was a business dinner with the state director. How was she supposed to know he’d try to make a move in the parking lot?  Or that someone would recognize her and post the damn photos?  At least there was a shot of the guy’s damn bloody nose. She can definitely take care of herself, that’s for damn sure.” Scott whistled his praise.  “She doesn’t need you to swoop in like a superhero and take care of everything.”

“Fuck you, man,” Chris mumbles.

“Shit. That’s what’s bugging you, isn’t it?” Scott asks, finally understanding the cold feet.  “She loves you with her last breath, but you know she could survive without you if it came to it. And you’d fucking curl up and die.  You need her more than she needs you.”

Flinching at his brothers brutal honesty, Chris reaches into the pocket on his golf bag, and takes out a cigarette.  He defiantly lights up under Scott’s watchful eye.

“How long you been sneaking those? I thought you told her you were trying to quit.” Scott can’t keep the accusing tone out of his voice.

“Well quitting sure would have been cheaper than keeping the damn kitten.” He scoffs at the memory of the arrival of the cat.  “No, actually, I shoulda just fixed the damn door when she said it was broken.  Do you have any idea how much a fuckin’ cat costs? Fixed, declawed, litter every week. Cat toys? And I actually like the damn thing!”

Scott laughs, thinking back to the videos Chris has shared during his last two visits to Emery’s Savannah home, different silly antics of the little gray furball.  “Always knew you loved pussy, man,” he jokes, patting his brother on the back, lightening the mood briefly before getting down to serious matters.  “Listen, you know Emery loves you. She’d do anything for you.  It just kinda seems like you’re fighting her.  Like you’re testing her.  Don’t be a dick.  This is not the girl you wanna push away.  You said ‘name a topic.’ What else is bugging you, bro?”

Chris takes another puff on his cigarette, rolling it between his fingers and staring at the orange heated tip before answering.  “She wants to wait to have kids.” His tone drops, thinking about their recent discussion when he was visiting Georgia.  “After our first wedding anniversary.  Man, I’ve waited long enough.  I’m ready for a family with her, like months ago,” he spits out.

Scott turns his head, shaking the rain from his arm again and wiping the side of his face with a towel.  “Chris- I said it before, I’ll say it again. Don’t be a dick. Think about it.  It makes sense. You get her knocked up now,” seeing the pained look on his brother’s face, he changes his tactic.  “That’s not what I meant.  I meant if you guys get pregnant too soon after the wedding, you’re off fulfilling your Marvel contract, and she’s starting a new job and then you’ll have post-production and the press tour. And she’s home alone with her mom, or in Boston with ours.  She doesn’t wanna raise your baby alone. Man, think from your head, not your cock. What she says makes sense.”

Chris stares at his brother.  “Since when did you have so much brotherly wisdom?”

Scott raises his eyebrow and smirks, cocking his head.  “Smart enough to know this isn’t the real shit that’s bugging you.  Man, she doesn’t ask you for a damn thing.  Why are you still fighting her on this?  I mean, think about it.  She’s not like your other girlfriends.  She doesn’t want the limelight. She doesn’t want your money or fame.  She doesn’t ask for fancy trips or jewels.  If this is the one thing she’s ever asked you for, why won’t you give it to her?”

“It’s an out.  It’s like saying we might not work.  I can’t agree to that.  You’re right.  I can’t live without her.  I don’t want her to have a backup plan, god forbid something does go wrong.”

“Jesus fuckin Christ, Chris.  That’s not what she’s saying.  She doesn’t want your money.  She’s set it up so that she only gets what she deserves and nothing more.  She wants to show you and the world she isn’t after your fame. She’s trying to protect you, Chris; looking out for your best interests.  That’s what she does. She’s a mathematician; she knows the numbers.  The prenup is to protect you and what she brings into the marriage.” Scott catches the look Chris is giving him.  “Yes, she and I have talked about it.  She knows I’m the only one that’ll talk sense into you on this one.  And that’s where she’s different too. Other girls you’ve dated would’ve run crying to Mom to try to get you to change your mind.”

Chris nods his head, bitterly and non-verbally agreeing with his brother’s comments about previous women in his life.

“She’s made good investments over the years. She doesn’t want you to take her money if you fuck up.”  He jokes with his brother.

“You think I’m gonna fuck it up?” Chris asks, finally voicing his fear.  He rubs his hand over his face, stroking his beard. A comfort reaction that will be gone in another week or two. Dropping his head in his hands, he leans over the steering wheel of the stilled cart and speaks down to his feet. “I always have before.  Why would this be different?”

Scott stares at his older brother, sitting on the seat next to him, looking like a lost and shattered man. Scott lets the image sink into his brain, never seeing his brother so weakened by love or fear before.  It throws him off; his big brother always being big and strong, his hero long before Marvel made it official.

His voice fills with compassion.  “Dude? Are you serious? Is that what this is about? You really think you’ll have to use it one day?”

Lifting his head, showing his true self to his younger brother, Chris’s eyes well with tears and he quietly nods, unable to speak past the lump in his throat.

Scott puts his arm around his brother’s shoulder, providing comfort.  “Why would this be different? Because it’s Emery.  Not some Hollywood starlet with a cartoon voice; but a real woman. Flesh and blood. Brains and strength. What does Mackie call her? A GRIT?  She can take whatever shit you throw her way and she’ll build you both up, stronger for it.”

Scott pauses for the power of his words to set in. He may not believe Chris can promise an easy life but he knows Emery will wage any battle that comes their way. “If it really scares you so much, give her everything.  Prove to her you’re not gonna let anything happen to your marriage.  You really are ‘till the end of the line.’  But you gotta sign the damn papers. It’s just paper.  It’s the only thing she’s ever asked you for, man.”  Looking out over the wet golf course, the beautifully landscaped greens, he says, “You gotta play it through.  She’s aces and you know it.”

Chris sighs, knowing his brother is right.  Dammit, he hates admitting when Scott is right.

“Bro, I know you could give her anything, but she has never wanted what money can buy.  All she’s ever wanted is you.” He taps the rain from the bill of his ballcap, cursing when it adds a puddle to his already damp pants.  “That makes me question her intelligence some, but you know; she’s cute. I won’t hold it against her if she thinks you hung the stars and moon.  But I’ll kick your ass if you fuck this up now.  She is the best thing that has ever happened to you.  Hell! I’ll marry her myself if I have to, because she was truly built to be an Evans woman.  They’re a rare breed.”

Chris dips his head, acknowledging the strength and heart of the women bearing the Evans name.  There’s no denying Emery can’t hold her own with that group.  He continues to nod his head, lost in thought.  Reaching into his pocket when his phone buzzes three times in a row, he unlocks the screen.  His heart flips when he sees the messages she sent:

engagement photo text

A fourth buzz indicates he has an email to open and everything he ever needs to know about the love Emery has for him is on display on the screen in front of him.

engagement photo

Chris sighs and admits out loud, “She is kind of a kick ass bitch, isn’t she?” His voice fills with awe and love for the tiny little red powerhouse who owns his heart, and soon his last name.

“Jesus, Scott. I’ve been a dick.  I need to call Emery. Now.  She and I have a lot to talk about it.  Can you drive up the clubhouse so I can call her?”

“Of course, bro, not a problem.”

Chris sits, waiting on his younger brother to take the hint.  He doesn’t.  “Dude, you’re already wet.  Get off!  Walk around and I’ll slide over.”

Scott looks up the hill, realizing he’ll still be driving into the direction of the rain, just getting more wet on the way back.  “Remind me never to be your ‘Best Man’ ever again; this part of the job sucks.”

“Shit, man, if I keep my head on right, and you kick me in the ass every now and then when I need it, you only get this one time at Best Man duties. ‘Cause if I fuck it up, I won’t need a prenup, I’ll need a funeral.”

Both brothers share a gut busting laugh in agreement, Scott choking out.  “She is scary for such a little thing.”

“Yeah, but she’s mine,” Chris smiles.  Into the phone, his voice jumps to life.  “Hey, kitten, you busy? I’ve been a real ass and I need to apologize and fix some things…”


Author’s Note: To learn more about Emery and Chris’s kitten, Bucky, click the link in the story.

“Engagement photos” were found on Pinterest. I have no idea who the man is in the large photo, but he sure looked like Chris to me!

Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Word Travels Fast


Word Travels Fast July 22 2016

Word Travels Fast

A Steve Rogers Fan Fiction

By avenger-nerd-mom

Steve prepares to make a more permanent spot for Charlie in his life

Warnings: Fluff, Language, Adult Situations

Word Count 3763

Click here for Safe and Sound


After the server takes the dirty plates away, Steve reaches across the table to take Charlie’s hand, “All right, doll, what’s going on?  You’ve been quiet all night, and you hardly touched your food.”

Charlie looks deeply into the blue eyes of her boyfriend.  She sees the love, concern and exhaustion there and her heart aches.  He’s been gone on a mission since the end of January and she’s missed his beautiful face and his warm body in her bed.  She doesn’t want to do this tonight, but she knows his mind won’t let it go.  “Can we just walk home?  I want to be alone with you,” she explains quietly.

He loves that she calls the Tower home, even though he hasn’t been able to convince her to fully move in with him yet.  Steve pulls cash from his wallet, leaving it on the table.  He scratches at the scruff on his chin, and starts to glare at her.  She sits back down and waits for him to pull her chair out for her.  “That’s not a habit you’ll break me of, so you might as well get used it,” Steve says tiredly.

“Yes sir,” she laughs as she gives him a salute.

She adores the old fashioned manners Steve still displays, but she sometimes has to remember to abide by them.  She feels certain gender roles died the day Rosie the Riveter took control of the war efforts, and society never looked back.   Try explaining that to the man frozen for nearly 70 years…

The couple walks out into the cold night air.  The snow banks line the city’s sidewalks and the couple talk and window shop along the way.  Steve shares stories of winters from his youth and Charlie laughs at the childhood tales he weaves of himself and his friend, Bucky.  Turning a corner, a block from the Tower, the sidewalk isn’t cleared.   Steve grasps Charlie’s elbow to keep her from slipping on a patch of ice. In the process, he takes a tumble and they laugh at the resulting wet spot on his ass.

Steve guides her into Tony’s modern building and they greet the night sentry.  Crossing the lobby Steve catches sight of them together in mirror and does his best to erase the furrowed brow on his face, trying to disguise his concern for his uncharacteristically quiet girlfriend.

The lovers step into the private elevator and Steve requests, “JARVIS? Please set up a privacy block and stop the elevator.”

“Yes, Captain.  Will that be all?”  the sentient computer voice clips in its soft British voice.

“Yes, thank you,” Steve replies.  He leans against the paneled wall, bracing himself for whatever it is Charlie needs to say.  “Okay, we’re alone now.  What?  Because you’re kind of scaring me…”

Charlie takes a deep breath, and slowly exhales.  Steve can sense her apprehension and takes her hands in his.  “Baby, unless you’re breaking up with me, whatever is bugging you, I’ll face it with you.”

“Oh, Steve, no!  I’m not dumping you!”  Charlie smiles, “But yes, I suppose we will face it together…  Honey, I was sick while you were gone-”

“Yea, I remember you said you missed work a day or two, but still felt bad.”  The concern on Steve’s beautifully chiseled face is evident.  “Did you see the doctor like I asked you to?  Is everything ok?  If you’re sick, I’ll take care of you.”

Charlie slowly shakes her head ‘yes.’  “Everything’s fine.  I hope you’ll take care of me!  It’s your fault!”  She giggles, a smile finally spreading across her face.  “Steve, I’m pregnant!”

The color drains from Steve’s face momentarily before his cheeks turn a bright shade of pink.  “What? How?”

“How? Really, babe,” she laughs at him.  “Do I have to explain that too?”

A smile flashes across his face as he pulls Charlie to him.   He takes her beautiful visage into his large, capable hands and kisses her gently.  “I mean, how? We always use protection.”

“We didn’t at Christmas and I guess your super serum sperm was no match for my birth control pills.  What the hell DID you tell Santa you wanted?” she teases.

“We didn’t at Christmas?” Steve asks, slowly recalling details of their intimate moments spent together.

“Broken ornaments, knocking over the tree, whipped cream- ring a bell?”

“Oh… That was you?!”  He teases her, looking her over, spinning her slightly and admiring her ass, tugging on the dark hair that hangs down her back.  “Yea, you are my type-”

“Steve, this is serious,” she admonishes, giggling, pushing against his massive chest.  “What are we going to do?”

He pulls her back to him, catching her hand in his and raising it to his lips for a quick kiss.  “Do? Is that even really a question?!  We’re having a baby! That’s what we’re going to do…” Filled with emotion, Steve’s thoughts are on overdrive and fall from his mouth in a jumble.  “How do you feel?  I can’t tell what you are thinking.  You’re being too serious.   Me? I’m happy; I’m shocked and surprised, but I’m so happy, so filled with love for you and our little Christmas gift.”

To prove his point, he picks her up and spins her around, gently setting her down, and putting his hands on her belly.

Tears of joy silently fall down Charlie’s face.  “I’m so thrilled, sweetheart.  I’ve had a few days to let it sink in.” She smiles as relief washes over her and the worry begins to lift from her face.  But her gut tells her she needs to stay strong and somewhat reserved a few moments longer while she bares all to Steve.  “I’ve just been so worried about you and how you would react.”

“Why? Why would you even wonder that?”  Steve is confused by her words and quickly tries to make sense of them.  He sinks back against the wall of the elevator, a little weak-kneed at the news he is trying to absorb.

“Well, although I know you adore kids, and love when Clint and Laura bring the children to visit, you always say that man and his dreams were left in the ice.” Charlie steps to him, placing her hands on his waist, grasping his shirt between her fingers.  “And you always worry that the serum may have changed you, and…”

Steve cuts her off, kissing her to shush her up.  “Shhh…” he whispers.  “Let’s just be joyous now.  Real life can butt in later.”

“One more thing, and you aren’t going to like this one…”  Charlie’s eyes turn serious and she steps back, folding her arms across her chest.

Steve braces himself.  Charlie’s tone is serious and he pays attention to her body language.  “Okay, what else?”

“The world is a different place than it was.  I don’t want to get married yet, or for you to propose just because of a baby.  I’m with you till the end of the line, but I’m not ready for that.  I don’t even want our friends to know.  It’s still really early, and all kinds of things can happen.” Her stance, with a swift move to place her hands on her curvy hips displays how serious she is about this point.

Steve knows there is no arguing with her about this now, but he slowly shakes his head to show he disagrees. “Hmmm… That’s something we’ll talk about later.  One thing at a time, I guess.”

Steve allows the quiet to still between them so she realizes he is listening to her words, although his opinion differs.  If he had his way he’d “put a ring on it,” as they say these days, first thing in the morning!  He reaches for her hands, pulling them away from her hips and stepping towards her.  “Are you done being serious now? Did you get it all out?” he asks tenderly, the timbre of his voice humming through her.

“I think so,” she breathlessly replies as his hands wrap around her waist.

His lush bottom lip hangs open, signaling his intent, as Steve’s blue eyes darken, looking down at her.  His dark lashes brush his cheek gently, blinking as he leans to kiss her.

His lips taste like the sweet wine he had at dinner, slightly cold from the walk in the winter air.  Charlie presses her lips to his, warming them, meeting him. She finally relaxes, having said what she needed to say, and she falls into his kiss, pressing against his solid chest, her hands searching inside his coat to reach around him.  She rakes her fingertips up his back, feeling him shudder against her, slowly scratching back down his covered plane as the kiss deepens.

His tongue slides against her lips and she parts her mouth to let him in, her tongue reaching to tentatively tap his before both retreating.  She swallows and takes a deep breath as his lips hold her top lip gently between his, his nose brushing against hers, before slowly letting go and resting his forehead to hers.

“We should continue this upstairs,” he groans, his warm breath against her face.

Charlie hits the elevator keypad, feeling the steel metal box is worthy of keeping their secret safe for now.  “Whatever you say, Daddy,” she giggles.  The heat in his eyes tells her he likes the new nickname, maybe for all the reasons it implies.  She tucks that thought away for later.

Smiling to herself, she knows Tony will be curious in the morning when he sees it was offline for about 20 minutes.  He’ll be sad to learn it wasn’t as exciting as it was the last time they stopped the elevator but forgot to turn on the privacy block.  She blushes to think that video might still exist and that Tony has probably seen it.


A few days later, the couple has agreed on a few things, although Charlie still holds strong to her idea that she does not want to rush into marriage.  Whenever she catches Steve staring at her wistfully, she speaks clear and firm, “Don’t even think about giving me a ring either.”

Steve has finally been able to convince her to move in with him at the Tower, and they have spent time organizing boxes at her place and deciding what items for her to bring along, keep in storage, or donate to city organizations for the needy.  His apartment in the Tower has enough space for her to keep an office space for her work and crafts, as well as a room for a nursery.

While making breakfast, Steve smiles at the changes coming to his life.  He’ll have to let go of some of the pain he feels that the changes may not come in the traditional order, but he can’t wait to raise this little miracle with Charlie.

He moves to answer the door when he hears a knock.  He chuckles to himself when he looks through the peephole to find Tony standing there with a box of donuts in his hands.  He opens the door for the man who has reluctantly become his friend.  Steve feels a certain level of affection for the man, simply because he was such good friends with his father, Howard, during the war, but Steve knows that Tony would never want to hear that.

“Tony, why the early visit?” Steve and Charlie had a bet as to when Tony would confront them about the elevator shut down.   He wins, because Charlie thought it would be within 48 hours, but it’s been longer.  He’ll have to think on what he wants to claim as his prize for later. He gestures for the dark-haired man to come in and have a seat at the counter.  He pulls out three plates and places them down. Steve points to the coffee pot, and Tony gives him a thumbs up.  Steve moves about, fixing the coffees, and pulls a donut from the box, setting it on the plate, turning his attention back to the bacon he had been cooking.

While Tony puts a chocolate donut on his plate, he replies quietly, “I went out to visit Aunt Peggy yesterday.”

Tony watches closely to see any change in the soldier’s steady demeanor.  He notices the slight pause in his movement, knowing he has struck a nerve.  “I also noticed on the security logs the other morning that your service elevator had some sort of malfunction the other night…  You wanna talk, pal?”

Steve pulls the pan from the hot burner, and turns off the stove top.   Steve had been out to visit Peggy and shared his news with her.  He had waited till the end of the visit, when she had started to drift between the now and the past.  Steve always worries that each visit will be his last, and he wanted Peggy to know he was happy, but not necessarily remember it, knowing she sometimes still lives in their collective past.  He told her about the news Charlie had shared with him in the elevator.  He wipes his hands on the dishtowel and turns to his friend.  “She told you?” he says quietly.

“Yea.  She did.  At first I thought it was just some crazy fantasy she was telling me from her youth.  One of the dreams she had but gave up long ago when you became a Capsicle.”  Steve cringes at this nickname, and Tony shrugs a silent apology and continues.  “But the details were different, and she talked about how, God, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but how handsome you looked in your ‘tight,’” Tony pauses to make air quotes, to show the words are not his own, “jeans and your cowboy boots, and I knew it wasn’t a fantasy or a make believe memory.  She was pretty lucid yesterday…  So, you and Charlie, huh?  I did not see that coming.”

Steve chuckles with melancholy at the reference to the phrase their fallen friend used often.  He just shakes his head yes, and the smile grows on his face.  “Yea, Tony.  I’m going to be a dad.”

Tony raises his coffee cup and says, “Congratulations, Cap.  That’s amazing.”  Tony holds his enthusiasm in check, owing to the calm Steve is keeping, but the excitement Tony has about the thought of a baby in the Tower bubbles under the surface.


Steve looks to the bedroom door.  Charlie is still sleeping, and he doesn’t want her to hear him.  “Thanks, Tony.  But is it really?  I mean, yes, it’s amazing, and I love that woman with all my heart. But I am scared shitless.”  Leaning against the counter, it appears that the weight of his thoughts are crushing him down.  “What if my DNA is all messed up from the serum?  What if our baby is like that baby in that cartoon, the one about superheroes and the baby that bursts into flames?”

“I think only our pal, Johnny Storm, has to worry about that-“ Tony interrupts.

Steve looks at his friend crossly, “Or what if the serum doesn’t hold through the DNA and all the maladies from my youth are passed on to the baby?  That’s scary, and I just don’t know how to handle this.”

Tony sees his friend watching the door to the other room.  “You haven’t talked to her about this?  She doesn’t know you’re scared?”

“She hinted she already knows, but we’ve had so many things to talk about, it’s been low on my list of priorities.  She doesn’t want to get married either, at least not now.”

“Shit, man, does she even know you?”  Tony chuckles.  “You’re king of doing the right thing.  She has to know you’ll rush out to buy a ring.”

“I haven’t had a lot of experience being around pregnant women, but I know Charlie.  If she says no, it’s no.  And I won’t be able to change her mind till she is ready.”

He steps over to the fridge, and reaches behind the cookie jar and pulls down a small recipe box.  He pauses before he shows it to his friend, and again looks to see that the door to the bedroom is still closed.  He sets the box on the counter, and opens it without a word.  His friend peers down, and sees a tiny ring of white gold, in a delicate Edwardian design. Tony marvels that the markings almost look like the eagle found on the SHIELD insignia.  Tony estimates the round solitaire diamond to be about half a carat, and quickly realizes the significance of such a simple ring.  Tony lowers his voice, and says, “It’s your mother’s?  She’s going to love it!”

charlie's ring

“You think so?  Everything old is new again, and she loves classic styles.  It means a lot that the SSR kept all my storage items and passed them on to SHIELD.  It’s like I was meant to give it to a dark-haired beauty…” Steve smiles wistfully.  His super soldier ears pick up movement in the other room, and he quickly replaces the box to its hiding spot as the bedroom door opens.

“Is that bacon?  It stinks,” Charlie says, sleepily.

Tony looks at Steve’s girlfriend with new eyes.  He smiles to see she is wearing what is obviously the top that matches the bottoms Steve is wearing with his gray t-shirt.  And when she reaches up to push the hair out of her eyes, he sneaks a peek at the cute boycut underpants she wears.  She puts on her glasses and sees Tony smiling at her.  She growls at him, and he chuckles.  “I brought donuts?”

“Oh, well, then you’re forgiven.  Word travels fast, huh?”

“Aunt Peg,” Tony explains.  “Congratulations, beautiful!  I’m so excited for you both!”

Rubbing her face, still trying to wake up, Charlie smiles to Tony nodding her acknowledgement before addressing her handsome man.  “Steve, babe, can you put up the bacon please?  It really smells bad.”

She reaches for a donut, and takes a sip of Tony’s coffee.  Tony continues to grin at her, as Steve steps out to the hallway to dispose of the bacon down the trash chute.

“I heard.  How’d you get him to fess up his fears to you?”  Charlie asks, knowing Steve’s deeper feelings for the man sitting across from her.  Despite the age difference created by 70 years in ice, had Steve and Howard followed life’s normal path, Steve feels he would have been Tony’s godfather, and Steve holds Tony in high esteem.

“I don’t know, darling. But it will all be okay,” Tony pats her hand and pushes the donut box towards her for a second one. “How much did you hear?” he asks, worried she might have discovered Steve is secretly hiding an engagement ring in his kitchen.

She grabs a napkin from the basket at the end of the counter and wipes a chocolate smudge from the marble top.  “Just babies bursting into flames or having asthma; why? Did I miss anything good?” she teases.

Tony hides his relief, “No, that about covers it.  Wait till I tell Storm that!  Oh, honey!  I’m really happy for you both!  A baby? In the Tower? Can you believe it?”

Taking another bite of the sinfully good pastry, Charlie’s smile cannot be contained as the two lean across the table conspiratorially.

Steve comes back in and smiles at the two of them sitting at the counter, talking quietly together.  He pours a glass of milk and pushes it across the counter to Charlie, before placing a kiss on the top of her head.  She gives him a quick peck on the lips, turning her nose up at the milk and takes another sip of Tony’s coffee.

Tony smirks at her silent defiance of Steve’s will. “Charlie, I understand you want to keep things quiet a while, but I think you both need to go talk to Bruce.  He’s a doctor.  He’s gone over the old files, and he has more knowledge about the serum than anyone. He would know what tests to run, and what to look for.  I think it could alleviate some stress for both of you,” Tony suggests.

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Charlie acquiesces, “On one condition. Steve, you gotta let me have my morning coffee.  Without it, I’ll hurt someone, and that could be bad mixed with pregnancy hormones.  And besides, if it wasn’t for my morning visits to the coffee shop, we never would have met.  This baby comes from coffee.  It’s already in her blood.”

“Her, is it?” Steve asks playfully, as Tony just hands over his coffee cup to the beautiful pregnant woman.

“Call it a mother’s intuition,” she smiles hopefully.

Watching the two love birds, Tony silently prays things work out for them.  Loving a superhero isn’t easy.  He should know.  He clears his throat, as the two move closer to one another, almost forgetting he’s present.  “Well, if it’s okay with you two, why don’t you both get dressed, or don’t.  Charlie, I think you look quite lovely just the way you are,” he wiggles his eyebrow at her lasciviously and she giggles.  Steve steps in front of her protectively to block Tony’s view and Tony flips him off.  “I’ll go give Bruce a heads up, so he can have old files on the serum ready?”

Steve nods his approval, “Yes, Tony, but don’t tell anyone else.  I know you are horrible with secrets, and you like to tease, but this is serious stuff.”

“Can I tell Pepper?”

Steve and Charlie exchange a look.  She has always felt an instant friendship with the classy blonde woman who exerts so much control over Tony.  She knows that if Pepper is in on the secret, she will better be able to keep Tony in line.  Charlie shakes her head, “Yes, of course.  We can’t ask you to keep secrets from Pepper.”

Tony stands to leave, and steps forward to kiss the top of Charlie’s head.  “I’m happy for you, kid.  You’re going to be a great mom.  And this one here?” He motions his head towards Steve, “You’ll have to make an honest man of him some day.  You can’t keep defiling him in elevators and under the Christmas tree, and not marry the guy.”

He chuckles from the looks on their faces, grabs the last chocolate donut and leaves.


a special thanks to my friend, Kaiti, for being my beta for my Steve and Charlie stories!

Author’s Note: December 2016  I have several rough drafts for upcoming installments of this story.  I’ll keep you updated with it’s progress!

Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom


Dancing Lessons

Dancing Lessons July 15 2016

Dance Lessons

*a Sunshine and Chris story*

Chris and plus-sized OFC “Sunshine”

By avenger-nerd-mom

Chris watches on as his plus-sized girlfriend “Sunshine” packs her bags for a trip to Boston, and music leads to dancing

Warnings: Language, NSFW, provocative dancing, aggressive oral sex, plus size insecurities, adult situations, intercourse

Word Count 3089

Click here for other Sunshine stories…

“Are you finished packing?” I ask incredulously, feeling like a madwoman throwing things in my suitcase.

Chris lays on my bed, ankles crossed, wiggling his feet back and forth. Looking up from his phone, he says, “I just need my backpack. I have stuff back home in Boston.”

“Must be nice,” I say, pulling two sundresses, my favorite summer staple, from my closet.

“Good god, how many sundresses do you have?” he chuckles.  He laughs harder as I  rub my middle finger across my lips.  His playfulness tugs at my heartstrings.

“I hate making sure all my soaps and lotions are just three ounces.  It’s a pain in the ass.”

When Chris just stares at me quietly I realize our flight experiences have been vastly different.  “You just throw everything in a bag and check your luggage, don’t you?”

“Well, yea,” he laughs, “depending on where I’m going.  Don’t you?”

“Hell, no.  That costs too much extra!”

“This trip doesn’t cost you extra so take whatever you want.  Take a whole suitcase full of your favorite shoes for all I care.  Besides, we’re flying private.”

Pulling out some of my favorite bra and panty sets, I toss them to him and he fingers the lace before throwing them in the bag.  “Private? What? Why?” What the fuck would he do that for?

Wiggling uncomfortably now, a blush rides over Chris’s handsome face.

Dropping my voice, resting my hand on his tight denim-clad thigh, I inquire, “Christopher, what are you not telling me?”

“Well, I just hate the cramped feeling when I fly. I never have enough leg room,” he complains, stretching his legs out but avoiding looking at me.

“Christopher, you did not!  I can fly commercial, it’s not a big deal, really.”  I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, in jean shorts and a fashionably tattered t-shirt.  Me.  He’s worried about me being comfortable. “My fat ass can fit in the seat, you know!”

“It’s a beautiful ass, and I know you can.  I just wanted us both to be comfortable; to enjoy our first travel trip together, quietly and alone,” he says with resign.

Shaking my head at him, I complain, “Babe, that’s too expensive, I’m fine with whatever airline you choose.”

“Sunshine, you know money is no problem.  You may not know this, but I recently fired my interior designer. I got money to burn,” he chuckles. I smile at his nickname for me, loving that he says I bring warmth and happiness into his life.

I swat at his leg, knowing he won’t change his plan, and turn to pull a matching pajama set out of the drawer.  A thought comes to me and I quickly say it out loud.  “A private plane, hmmm?  We could have some fun with that, now couldn’t we?”

“Are you talking about the mile high kinda fun?” he asks, his attention back on me and not his phone.  His smile beams when I shake my head yes.  “I like the way you think, babe,” he says with a grin.

He whistles when I bend over to pull a few t-shirts from a lower drawer and I shake my “beautiful” ass for him, slowly rising up in a silly dance move.  He chuckles and the sound warms my heart.  I love being so relaxed and goofy around him.

“You know we’re only staying a few days?”

Speech momentarily leaves me as I’m aware of his thoughtless movements.  The wiggle of his legs is adorable, and something I’ve become accustomed to watching him do in various manners during meetings on his house design, or times we watched movies if I stayed late after working.  But the way he absently raises his t-shirt to scratch his belly, twirling his fingers in his own hairs, catching a glimpse of the Bardsley tat?  It’s too damn much…

“You’re really cute, you know that?”  I smile and he pauses mid scratch to look at me, smiling too.  He blinks away the compliment slowly with his boyish charm and my heart melts.  He pulls his t-shirt back down and continues scrolling on his phone.  I still can’t believe he wants to take me home to Boston.  We haven’t even been dating that long.  “I know we’re only staying a few days, but we’re staying at your mom’s house.  I need clothes and I want to have a choice.  Now, if you were taking me to a beach somewhere, I’d just throw in some shorts and t-shirts, a few swimsuits and we’d be done.”

“Got any bikinis? I’d like that,” he replies with a smirk, looking up at me.  “Siri, search ‘beach vacation destinations.’”

Laughing, I roll the t-shirts and add them to my suitcase.   He’s fuckin’ kiddin’ me, right? “Really, honey?  A bikini?”

Chris puts his phone down and rolls around on the bed, rising up on his knees, sitting near the head board.  He rests his hands on his thick thighs, and for a brief moment, I lose all thought.  The way his arms are placed, in the lamplight, I can see the tiny hairs on his arms and his freckles.  “Fuck yea! I’d die to see that perfect peach- shaped ass in one.”

I stare at him, somewhat in shock.  He stares back and the determination on his face shows he’s having none of this bout of insecurity.

“We’ll go shopping; find you something in a classic style like you wear. Very 1950s, my own pin-up girl?”

I move to the bed and lean into him, placing a chaste kiss on his lips.  “Sweet man; thank you.”  Holy shit, I think this man is totally blinded by love and I totally fall harder for him because of it.  “I’m not as confident as you think I am, but I hide it well.  You know that by now.  But I love that idea!”

“Baby, you are beautiful to me.  Lovely face, sweet smile, legs that go on for days, ass and tits.  I love the way you look.  I can’t say it to you enough to get it into your head.”  He gently tugs my hair, massaging my scalp as I kneel on the bed next to him.  “If you don’t show off at the beach, how is the fourteen-year-old hiding under her size three X t-shirt ever gonna learn to be comfortable in her own body?  You have style and class, and you can be a great role model for someone else.”

His face glows with the praise he is lavishing on me and my heart weakens.  This man, with his cute smirk and wiggly legs, is all I’ve ever wanted.

“God, you’re amazing.  How are you even real?”  I question him, rising and crossing the room to finish packing.

He just smiles, shrugging his shoulders at the rhetorical question and continues, “Aren’t you about finished? What secret features does this room have?” Curiously, he looks around my small retreat.

I clap my hands and the lights dim.  He leans back in laughter at such a stereotypical “dude” feature to my room.  A quiet command in Spanish and music begins to play from the speakers hidden behind the headboard, the sounds of “American Woman” by Lenny Kravitz filling the room.

“Perfect!  I love it!” he chuckles, moving to place the suitcase on the floor, a light twinkle in his eye as he turns back to me.  “Those were some good moves a few minutes ago.  Why don’t you show me what you got?”  He gently rocks to the smooth seductive beat.

“What? Dance? Me?’ I ask, terrified he’s being serious.

“A striptease,” he taunts me.

“Oh, God, Christopher, I may have confidence, but I have no rhythm,” I inform him, shaking my head and backing away from him, throwing a sweatshirt onto the pile of clothes in the suitcase by the bed.

“Aw, Sunshine, it’s easy, just sway your hips a little bit like this.”  I watch as he begins to advance towards me in his tight jeans and ab hugging t-shirt, moving in time to the music. Raising his hands above his head, he snaps his fingers with the beat.  The look in his eye, purely predatory.  I shake my head and giggle.  “Lose yourself in the music…  When you dance, dance for you, like I’m not even here.”

Reaching me, he brings his arms over and behind my head, pulling me close to him without touching me, continuing to bounce to the music.  His hips sway side to side, and with each third beat of the song, he thrusts forward against my thighs.  With each tap, I can feel him growing harder beneath his restrictive clothing. Watching from the corner of my eyes, the muscles in his arms flex and release and the sound of his snapping fingers echo in my ears. “Fuck,” I whisper.  He raises his eyebrows and grunts, matching the song forever now burned in my brain.

He drags his fingertips down the back of my arms, sending shivers along my spine as goosebumps form, and takes my hands.  His hips still sway against me in their hypnotizing pattern…  Entwining our fingers, Chris raises our hands slowly out to my sides.  He pulls me to him and my full breasts push against his solid chest, my nipples growing hard under the friction. He brings my arms behind his head and slides his strong hands to my face, drawing me to him for a forceful kiss before roughly massaging his hands down to my hips, my flesh rolling under his grip.  With his hands planted firmly on my curved waistline, my arms wrapped around his neck, Chris guides me to grind against him with the beat of the music.  His eyes are darkened with lust and never leave mine.

ass grab 2

I’m hot and my mouth feels dry; I flick my tongue out to wet my lips and swallow slowly.  I’ve never been seduced like this before and I’m heady with his attentions.   My breath catches and my eyes close as I move against him, lost in him and the music.  “Open your eyes,” he growls, pushing me into the dresser, never missing a beat of the song.  His hands run up my sides and he squeezes my full tits, his thumbs brushing against my aching peaks.  Still connected at the waist, he leans away from me and quickly moves his arms behind his head, grabbing at the neckline of his shirt and pulling it over his head, rolling his torso back up against me as he drops it on the floor.

“Your turn,” he moans against my neck, biting roughly as the song fades out, leaving me with a quick, wet kiss against my hot skin as he shimmies in time to the music back over to rest on the edge of the bed.

“Can I pick the song?” I choke the words trying to buy time as I take in my surroundings, mesmerized by his physique and his daring prowess as a dancer.

He shakes his head ‘no.’ “Whatever’s next…”

I glare at him, praying shuffle is good to me.  I hide my relief as “Good for You” by Selena Gomez begins, the light of dusk filtering in, shades of purples and oranges from the sunset reflected on the white walls.  I take a deep breath and draw myself up as tall as I can, wrapping my confident persona around me like a blanket.  Fuck this; I’ll show him.

I match his instruction, swaying my hips to the music, circling in a seductive figure eight. Running my hands up my sides, I cup my breasts and run my fingers under my hair.  I lift it up, shaking it out, quietly singing the line, “do my hair up real nice,” not trusting my own voice. “Syncopate my skin to your heart beating,” I pat above my full breasts, mimicking our beating hearts. The last golden rays of sunlight beat across his chest and I’m distracted by his beauty.  Even across the room, I can see his eyes are still dark and his erection threatens to break through his pants.  I close my eyes and turn my back to him, following the beat of the song.  He can watch me in the mirror over the dresser, but my figure blocks out his reflection.

Raising my arms above my head, I snap my fingers like in the song; just like he had moments before.   The sway of my hips are involuntary now, I don’t have to think about their motion.  I take a deep sigh, running my hands down the valley between my breasts, reaching my waist. My fingertips graze the exposed skin caused by my movements and I’m aware of my peaked interest in the sex to come. Dropping my hands to unbutton my cut off shorts, I slide them slowly down my legs, pausing momentarily under the curvature of my ass, allowing him time to admire.  I gently step out of them and kick them aside, resting my hands on the edge of the dresser and slowly roll my body back up to the musical rhythm beating inside me.  The sharp intake of his breath can be heard above the music and my pounding heart.

As I turn to him, singing “how proud I am to be yours,” I pull the edge of my t-shirt up over my head and lock eyes with his, black with desire, his hands fisted on his knees, the veins in his muscular arms prominent from the strain he holds as he watches me.   I slide the shirt gently down my arms and toss it on top of my pants.  Dancing for my man in my green lace underwear and watching him disintegrate before me brings me to a higher sensuality than I’ve ever known.  Chris’s chest rises and falls with his quick breaths and his jaw clenches.  The predatory watch has returned to him and he is ready to attack.  Rubbing my hands over my full figure, my confidence grows as the lust on his face shines in the dimming daylight.   I lose myself in my movements, just as he directed, and I smile as he undoes his belt buckle, unable to restrain himself any longer, slowly pulling it from the loops of his lung slung jeans.

My hands glide lower, leaning forward slightly, and run smoothly down my thighs. He licks his plump bottom lip as my fingers trace the edge of my panties and he tugs open his button-fly.  I dance across the room towards him and move his hands away.  “Baby let me be good to you,” I sing, the heat in my eyes matching his as I place my hands on his thighs, kneading them under my fingers, continuing to sway to the music.  Pushing forward, my breasts graze his chiseled chest, my lacey ass on display for him in the mirror, as my lips hover next to his, “Let me show you how proud I am to be yours.”

Dropping to an open crouch between his legs, my tits brush against his covered cock, straining to be freed.  Green lace wedges between my folds and becomes wet with my proof.  As I free him from his Calvins, his purple head throbs, begging to be placed in my mouth.  I lick the tip, savoring the salty precum before wrapping my tongue around him and pulling him into my heated hole.  He hisses and I can feel the muscles in his legs tighten.  I give him an extra pump with my hand for good measure as my other hand trails along my inner thigh, heightening my own desire. He moans his approval, watching down on me as I pull him in deeper. His lightly calloused hands roughly wind through my hair and with one hand, he forces me further down his firm shaft.  Holding me in place, as the song ends and faintly moves to another, he rises his tapered hips from the bed and rams into my throat.  He pulls back, short of gagging me and advances again, thrusting a few times before letting me lose.

He pulls me up to a standing position, rising himself.  Standing nearly nose to nose, he wildly fucks me with his eyes while he quickly removes his jeans. Sweeping me into his robust arms, he throws me to the center of the bed. “Fuckin’ love that, baby,” I say as he pulls my ankles back to him, telling me to roll over.

“I know,” he growls, “and I love this,” he says as he grasps my underwear on each side of my stout hips and pulls it down. I slide back onto my knees and lift my feet as he yanks off the offending material.  His hands caress over my full back side as he pushes me forward to rest on my elbows, ass up in the air on the edge of the bed just for him.  Wait for it… I know it’s coming.  There it is!  I smile to myself as Chris’s lips meet my ass cheek, kissing the tat of a four-leaf clover, circled by the words ‘You got LUCKY!’  His tongue lingering for just a moment of sweetness. He grunts as the condom settles into place and with no other pretense, he slides in between my wet, waiting pink lips.

“Yes, baby, fuck me,” I beg.  “I need you.”

His forceful push moves me across the bed, and he reaches to pull my thighs back towards him as my tits drag across the bed.  The expensive linens are rough against my delicate tips and I relish the slight tinge of pain.  “So fuckin tight; I am lucky,” he moans. He sinks in until my ass is pressed against his thighs. My walls stretch around him, warm and welcoming, gently squeezing his sex.

“I wanna hear that moan you make when something feels good,” he confesses as he pushes in again.

I abide to his request and don’t hold back my sounds any longer. Sorry, bitchy neighbor. Be jealous I’m getting some. And it’s so damn good…  My thoughts fade out as Christopher continues his powerful thrusts, bringing us closer to our end.  He reciprocates the same noises as our bodies move together as one, knocking the damn decorator pillows to the floor.

“I really fuckin’ hate those things,” he grumbles against my ear with one final drive, pushing to his completion before rolling me over to continue our fun.

Click here for “Bringing Sunshine to Boston”

Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

What’s His Number?

what's his number June 23 2016

What’s His Number?

a Steve Rogers fan fiction

by avenger-nerd-mom

Nat walks in on Girls Night at the Tower with Charlie, Pepper, Jane, Darcy and Maria

Warning: Language, Adult Situations, Discussions of sex, Drinking, Anxiety

Word Count: 1643


Link here for Story One: Finding Warmth

Author’s Note: I’m not exactly sure what Wanda’s super power is? I know she can move things with telekinesis and has the power to make people see things?   I’m extending this belief as my personal head cannon that she can read thoughts and sometimes see images in the minds of others as well…



Nat enters the common room of the Tower and wishes quickly she could make a hasty retreat, but she’s already been spotted.  “Nat’s here!” Jane giggles loudly.  “WHOOOO! Party!” a chorus of female voices shout.

She smiles and shakes her head, grabbing a bottle of chilled vodka from the wine fridge before sitting in a chair on the outer edge of the circle of women collected in the room.  “What kinda hen party is this?” she asks with a grin.  Damn Steve for making me play nice, she thinks to herself.

“We’re just killing time till the cocks get back,” Jane announces with flourish, high-fiving Darcy, who is rested near her feet on the floor.

“What?” Nat asks Charlie, curled up on the end of the couch closest to her.

Charlie takes the bowl of popcorn as Wanda passes it to her, “Somebody in Rhodey’s department is getting married. The boys are all at a bachelor party, so we’re having a little fun of our own,” she answers in a stage whisper, slightly tipsy.

“Speaking of cocks, the good part is getting ready to come on,” Pepper laughs, pointing at the large screen.

Nat is a little taken aback by Pepper’s youthful appearance with her hair loose and no make-up, wearing one of Tony’s Guns N Roses t-shirts and sweats.  Seeing the straight-forward business woman so relaxed causes Nat to take a deep breath and settle in.  If Pepper can do this, I can do it too, she thinks to herself.  She takes a long pull straight from the bottle, feeling the sting of the icy cold liquid as it goes down.

All the women turn their attention to the TV, shushing one another, giggling as they try to cover Wanda’s eyes.  “You’re too young for this!” Jane shouts.

“What are we watching?” Nat asks to no one in particular, but no one answers her.

“I’ve seen the movie before,” Wanda laughs, pushing everyone’s hands away from her with her mystical powers.

“No fair!” Pepper laughs, throwing popcorn at the young girl.

“That tingles,” Darcy giggles.  “Do it again!”  Wanda gently kicks her in the back of the head and Darcy dissolves into a fit of laughter.

“Shhh…. It’s the best part,” Pepper admonishes the women.  Nat smiles at Pepper’s youthful actions and turns her attention to the TV, wondering what is so damn important.

The women all are transfixed by the image on the screen, the handsome actor slowly stripping and tossing around a basketball.  “Damn, I need to learn to play basketball,” Jane giggles with a sigh.

Nat whistles out, “Holy fuck!” and the girls giggle at her response.

“Is it just me, or does that actor look a lot like Steve?” Maria asks, biting the tip of her manicured nail, her sinful thoughts openly displayed on her face.

The women turn to look at Charlie and she shrugs her shoulders.  “Ah, Steve’s better looking,” she laughs, biting her lip and hiding her blush behind a pillow.

“Ooooww!” Darcy cat calls loudly, her voice echoing through the large cavernous room.  “Hell yea, he is!  I shoulda hit that when I had the chance.”

“Darcy!” Jane shouts as Pepper hits the young woman with a pillow, “You can’t say shit like that out loud.”

Wanda laughs, “Why not? Every woman in this room was thinking it.”

“Hey, again, not fair!  You can’t use your gifts against us,” Pepper joins in the laughter.

Wanda tosses her hair back and says lightly, “Well, it’s not like I want to be in your minds, but everyone practically screamed it at me.”  She giggles and slightly blushes, shaking her head to try to wipe away the images her friends inadvertently sent her.

“Oh, God.  I don’t want to be here for this,” Nat says, getting up to leave.  Wanda catches her eye with a sly grin and Natasha uses every ounce of her spy training to close her thoughts from releasing more images to the young girl.  What Wanda has already seen from her mind is probably enough to scar the girl for life.

“No, stay.  You can’t leave me here,” Charlie says, grabbing the red-head’s arm.  “They’re about to turn vicious and you’re the one I trust to back me up.”

Nat is stunned by the contact and Charlie’s words. Her first instinct is to jerk her arm away but she takes a deep breath and instead gently pats the top of Charlie’s hand.  “What do you mean, ‘vicious?’”

Charlie motions for her to sit back down and Nat complies, reluctantly.

“I’m new, fresh meat. Now’s the time in the ‘hen party’ as you called it when they’re going to pounce and ask me all kinds of questions I don’t want to answer.  That’s what girls do,” Charlie explains.  She smiles warmly at Nat, knowing Steve wants her to draw the woman into their superhero sisterhood.

Nat closes her eyes and opens them slowly.  “Why the hell would you do that to one another?”

While Jane pauses the movie, also aware of what Charlie is doing, Darcy pats the table top and motions for Nat to rest her feet there, “Just don’t knock over my beer,” she advises.  “Cause that’s how we learn things about ourselves, one another, and secrets about our men.”

“You just don’t tell everything,” adds Pepper.

“Yea, please don’t,” Nat groans.  “I don’t need to know about Tony in the way I think you all are implying.”

Charlie laughs, “Apparently we can’t think it either, cause Wanda knows more than she’s letting on. Isn’t that right, babe?”

Wanda covers her face in a blush.  “I really don’t mean to be intrusive.  It’s all coming at me so fast, unless I see a thought, I don’t know who thinks what, if that makes anyone feel better.”

“It doesn’t,” Nat laughs.  “It’s creepy as shit.”

“Oh my God!  It’s perfect!  Wanda! You can be like the bullshit detector and call out the liars,” Darcy claps her hands gleefully.

“NO!” the women shout.

Darcy huffs.  “Fine, whatever, but that was gonna be an awesome game of Never Have I Ever…. So.  Charlie.  Steve? He’s got more game than we think, doesn’t he? He’s not all ‘yes ma’am,’ ‘whatever you say, ma’am,’ am I right? I studied my 1940s war history.  I know some of the guys have bets he’s still a virgin, but he’s not, is he?”

Charlie tries to hold back her giggles. “Wait a minute!  You’re gonna jump over the easy questions and go straight for the kill?”

“Yes!” Jane, Darcy and Maria reply in unison.

With a gleam in her eye, Maria adds, “You forget.  Some of us are trained assassins.”

Laughing, Charlie takes a nervous sip of her wine, swirling the crimson liquid around in the glass.

“Come on, give us something,” Pepper pleads.  “He’s so damn good looking, but in all the time I’ve known him, he’s never brought a girlfriend home.”

“Well, Mom,” Charlie looks pointedly at Pepper, “I think it’s pretty safe to say you just never knew.

“He’s brought women here before, Pepper,” Nat confirms quietly.

Pepper cocks her eyebrow at Nat, the question left unspoken.

“Or he’s left here with them,” adds Maria, quickly looking away from the group, back to the TV.

“Shit. No way,” says Darcy. “How did I miss my chance?”

Charlie taps Darcy on the shoulder. “It’s ok, hun.” She smiles at the younger woman.  She tilts her head to the side, taking in Natasha and Maria, both women having just confirmed answers to questions Steve has been avoiding.  “Some friendships can survive the sex if it doesn’t work out and some are just too important to mess up by adding in sex.”

Darcy blushes.  “Damn. You’re just saying that to make me feel better, but thanks.  Ok, so we have confirmation Steve isn’t like a hundred-year-old virgin? What’s his number?”

“Dammit, Darcy! Cut it out!” Jane scolds her co-worker and friend.

“What?! We’re all friends.  We should be able to share personal shit and not be embarrassed.”

Nat chokes on her drink, straight from the bottle.  “Fuck, no.  I still don’t wanna know about Tony in the bedroom.”

The group laughs.  Jane sighs deeply, willing to take the jump, feeling she and Charlie are in somewhat similar situations.  “Charlie?” she inquires, her tone soothing. “He’s not your average mortal man.  I can sympathize with that.  Ah… us girls have noticed you sometimes have bruises.  Is, um, everything okay?”

Charlie’s eyes widen.  “Oh, my God!  You know Steve would never hurt me, right?  I mean, you said it yourself, he’s not your average man.  So, yea.  No.  It’s all good,” she chuckles, blushing but needing to set things straight.  “It’s not like-” she sighs deeply, embarrassed, and shakes her head.  “Steve is always very gentle and considerate.  It’s not like we mean to be rough, it just kinda happens that way.”

Nat sees Steve’s girl struggling with her answers, wanting everyone to know she’s okay, but not wanting to betray Steve or their relationship in any way.  She feels oddly protective of the woman Steve has claimed as his.  Acting on instinct, her quick thinking exclaims, “Oh, shit!  I think I’ve seen this movie.  Isn’t the guy’s bare ass in the next scene?  Cause, uh, I’d rather see that than hear about Steve. That’s almost creepier than hearing about Tony.”

Cluing in to Nat’s dismissive tone, Darcy laughs, “Ok. Fine. What do you guys think about Clint? They’ve got lots of kids.  His aim must never miss.”

The girls boo and hiss at her joke and Jane turns the movie back on.  Nat watches the easy camaraderie of the women and she feels Charlie’s eyes on her.  She turns to the dark haired woman, who whispers ‘thank you’ before turning her attention back to the attractive actor, who happens to look a lot like Steve.

Click here for “Merry Christmas, Steve

Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Let Them Watch


Let them watch.png

Let Them Watch

By avenger-nerd-mom

*a Chris Evans Fan Fiction*

Chris x OFC (First Person)

Chris Evans and his new girlfriend, a sassy plus sized woman, are spotted out on the town

Warnings: Language, Adult Situations, Fat Shaming, Bullying, Self-Esteem issues, Verbal Confrontation

Word Count 2632

Click here for Beautiful Design to see how Chris meets this lovely lady!

Adjusting my skirt, I freeze when the shrill voices and laughter enter the room.  “Did you see the girl he’s with?!  Oh my God; she needs her own zip code.”

A blush creeps over my face.  I know what everyone else in the restaurant looked like.  She can only be talking about me.  Living in Hollywood is a nightmare… I stay hidden in the bathroom stall, hoping they will leave soon and I can make my exit unnoticed.

“Well, she has a pretty face?  Maybe she’s really sweet?” replies another voice.  Her, I like.

“Get off it, a pretty face and nice personality can only get you so far,” chimes in a third woman.

The sound of the water faucet turns on and I can hear the women shuffling through their handbags for lipstick touch ups.

“In heels she’s practically taller than him!  And she really should cover up her arms with a sweater or something.”

“A black and white dress? She looks like Shamu!”

The girls dissolve into a fit of giggles, one of them actually making what I can only guess are supposed to be whale sounds.  Tears sting my eyes but I’ve dealt with women like them my whole life.

“All the gossip sites say he’s into kink… Who knew that’s what they meant!”

“I hear he likes it rough; she’s definitely got more cushion for pushin’!  But a man like that needs a woman like me.  I’d look good on his arm; something to be proud of showing off.”

I take a deep breath and adjust myself again before exiting the stall.  When the door opens I can see my reflection in the mirror as they all freeze.  Tears glisten my eyes as I look straight ahead and wash my hands.  I smooth the top of the tight Liberty Roll in my fair hair and flounce the longer waves over my shoulders, before turning to the one I think mouths off the most.

“Oh, honey, you have no idea how he likes his kink!  He’d break a skinny bitch like you in half!  He needs someone who is ALL woman,” I say, running my hands over my curves before I exit the room.  As I open the door, I look back over my shoulder at the other two staring at the leader, and I can only see her backside.  “And baby, you ain’t got the ass it takes to make a man like him happy.”

On the other side of the closed door, I lean against the hallway wall, taking a deep breath, counting slowly to get control of my tears and anger.  I did not take all that time to get my cat eye makeup perfect to ruin it with tears, I think bitterly to myself.  I don’t want to be standing there when they exit, so I gather my composure quickly and head back to the table.  I don’t want Christopher to see me upset.  He already worries about enough things… I don’t want to add my small bouts of insecurities to that mix.

Crossing the room, I can feel eyes watching me and hear soft giggles and possible comments under people’s breath.  I soften again as I see Christopher’s eyes sparkle in the low light as I move closer to him.  His appreciative stare causes my heart to flutter.  I approach our table and he rises, always a gentleman.  He puts his hand on my waist and kisses my cheek. God, he smells so good.  I reach passed him to pick up my handbag, and choke out the words, “I’d like to go.  I’ll meet you outside.”

“But I just ordered dessert?” Chris says, confused, his hand still on my waist.

I shake my head.  “I’m not hungry.  Can we please just go?”  Tears are threatening to spill from my eyes and from their corners, I can see the three women returning to their table, watching us. Watching me.  I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing that their words hurt.

Chris watches me closely as the waiter approaches our table.  His vision flickers in their direction before I begin to walk away, doing my best to keep my head high and hold my dignity.  Moments later, his large, warm hand is on my lower back, ushering me out the door.  We take a few steps away from the doorway, down the sidewalk when he grabs at my arm, spinning me around.  “Did I do something wrong?  What am I missing?”

The pain on his face is evident.  I gently cup his beard in my hand, and he moves his head in my hand just enough to tickle my palm.  I slowly smile, getting my sense of us back. “Christopher, honey, you didn’t do anything.  It’s just…” From the corner of my eye, I see a photographer move towards us snapping photos.  I nod my head in that general direction and Chris winks to show me he caught on to it also.  “I wanna go home.  Let’s get out of here.”

Chris sighs deeply, taking my hand in his and says, “Whatever you want, sunshine.”

I giggle at his nickname for me- Sunshine.  He says he’s always amazed by my happiness and enthusiasm; that I add light to his day.  If he only knew it was sometimes like a personal pep talk right to my soul…  I let my inner struggles roll off, pulling myself to my full height next to him.  Walking along, I bump into his arm playfully.  “Does it bug you when I wear heels?  I’m almost taller than you!”

He stops walking and I laugh as I turn to him.  “What?”

“Are you fucking kidding with this?” he asks.  “Why wouldn’t I want you to wear heels?!  For the first time in ages I can do this without having to twist and bend down.”  He tugs on the strap of my sundress and pulls me to him, a twinkle in his eye.  He keeps one hand wrapped through the strap of my dress and puts the other in my hair, pulling my lips to his.  “Ignore the fucking cameras,” he whispers as his brush against mine softly and tenderly, teasing me.  He gently opens his mouth, sucking my top lip in between his sweet grip, the tip of his tongue caressing it.  His nose innocently brushes against mine. His antagonizing seduction instantly makes me wet and a groan rumbles in the back of my throat.  The bristles of his beard edge my mouth as he chastely finishes the kiss and backs away, holding me tight as my knees slightly give way, crushed under the power of his mouth.

“Does that answer your question?” he chuckles.  “Wear heels.  Especially later, when this dress is off you,” he challenges quietly, moving again towards the car.

When we reach the car, instead of opening the door for me, he pushes me against it, firmly planting his hand on my ribcage.  “Whatever it is,” Chris whispers in my ear.  “You don’t have to be tough all the time; you can share your hurt with me.  I won’t think less of you and it won’t change the way I feel.”

I sigh deeply, shaking my head at his intuitiveness.  “Christopher, I don’t want to do this here.”  I try to keep stiff, guarded, knowing cameras are lurking in the shadows, but Chris clearly has other things on his mind as his hands roam down my arms.  The goosebumps that form have nothing to do with the cool evening air.

“Fine then.  We won’t talk.  We’ll just make out in front of these photographers.  We’ve got time to kill,” he said before throwing his plump, wet lips against my neck, seeking the spot he knows makes me squirm every time!   Damn! My ticklish spot!

I squeal, attracting attention of the paparazzi.  “Quit that!”  I giggle.  “What are you doing?”

“Waiting on the waiter to bring out my real dessert…”

“Oh, my God! Are you joking?”

“I can’t help it,” Chris laughs, his breath warm against my neck.  “I like all things sweet.” 

“We’re being watched…” I sigh, not really wanting him to stop.

He tilts his head to place a delicate open mouthed kiss on my hummingbird tattoo.  Instinctively my eyes close and my head falls back as his cradles it in one of his large hands, his other roaming down my side.  His distractions nearly clear the tabloid photogs from my mind.  “Let them watch…”

Running his mouth up my neck, his beard scratches my skin as his lips move to mine. Oh, my god, who taught this boy to kiss? She deserves a medal… Up close under the street lights, I can see the devilish gleam in his eyes.  “What are you up to, Christopher?”

“Shh…,” he whispers, closing his mouth over mine with a little more force this time.

Our private bubble bursts at the sound of high pitched giggles and deep laughter.  The photographers seem to step back into the darkness of the night as the group of mean girls and their men walk in front of our car.  My posture instantly locks, anticipating a final retaliation for my bold words in the washroom.

Chris must sense the change in me, asking quietly, his voice vibrating against me, “Babe? Is that it?  Did one of those women say something to you?”

He takes the dessert box from the young waiter who has made his delivery, offering him another tip and nodding his thanks.  He barely takes his eyes off me during the exchange.  His stare makes me want to come clean, to tell him my fears, to wonder aloud if he’s made the wrong choice.  People will always be watching us, for his fame or my size…  Let them watch, he said…  I sigh in frustration.  He’s right.   We sure as hell can’t hide all the time….

“Not to me… I overheard them talking,” I admit, moving aside as Chris reaches around me to finally open the door.

Before helping me in the car, he kisses me tenderly, chuckling quietly and placing the box with his sweet treat in the back.  I watch with desire as he crosses in front of the car under the glow of the parking lights.  His shorter hair mimics a James Dean quality and matches the rockabilly style I often like to wear. His jeans hug at his tapered waist just right and the t-shirt rides up a bit with each stride of his legs, allowing a glimpse at his glorious Adonis belt.  There’s a reason I can’t seem to keep my hands off him.  He is without a doubt; the sexiest man I have ever seen.

Settling in the car, he takes my hand, kissing the back of it gently.  “Sunshine, when you got up from the table, all heads turned to watch you.”  He makes a tsking sound when I scoff at his words.  “Not for the reason you think, babe…. The sway of your hips?  Drives a man crazy…  The front view; the bounce?  The deep cleavage?  A man wants to get lost in there for days.  You’re everything those women aren’t and they were jealous.”

“You sweet man.  I love that you are so blind, but they said everything I think.”

“Then tell yourself to ‘shut up.’  I see an amazing, talented, funny, charismatic business woman, with great taste in fashion and men,” he smiles, pointing at himself.  “Trust me.  I don’t tell stories; I just act them out on screen.  You’ve known me for months.  Do I waste my time on things that aren’t worth it?”

“No…” I answer quietly, consoled by his words, finding additional strength in them.

“I can’t imagine you stayed too quiet after hearing them speak…” he starts, watching as the smile grows on my face.  “What did you do?” he asks warmly.

I giggle, sharing with him the story of my encounter with the mean girls.  Laughing so hard, he hits the steering wheel, beeping the horn and startling a young couple walking to their car.  “You actually said that to her?!  That’s awesome! I bet she learns to keep her mouth shut,” he wheezes out.

I shake my head, “Girls like her never learn.  If God has a sense of humor, she’ll get old and fat one day too….” I pinch the bridge of my nose, thinking about what I said.  “I didn’t mean that.  Everybody is what they are. Size and shape doesn’t change you, or make you better or worse than anyone else. She’d still be bitter, just about something else.”

“See?  That? That’s why you’re my ‘Sunshine.’” Chris winks at me, starting the ignition and slowly backing the car out of the tight space.  “You could let it get you down, but you don’t dwell on it.  Some stupid bitch you’ll never see again shouldn’t have power over you… But you have got to depend on me. I’m strong, baby, you know that. I can bear that weight with you.”

I chuckle at his word choice, watching the passing lights and shoppers along Rodeo Drive.

“Seriously.  I have to get you to see what I see, and my words aren’t getting through that beautiful, thick skull of yours,” Chris says, tapping his finger against the steering wheel.  “I got it!” he shouts in the confined space, laughing when I jump.  “What are you doing this weekend?”

Confused, I turn to look at him, wondering about the giant smile spreading across his face.  “I don’t know?  Why? Whatdya have in mind?”

Chris waves a pedestrian across before advancing at the green light.  “I’m thinking we need to go home to Boston,” his voice trails off, watching me from the corner of his eye.

“What? Boston? Why?” I ask, my speech nearly impaired from this suggestion.  “Christopher, we haven’t been dating that long.  Why would you take me to Boston?”

He turns off the road, taking the more scenic route back to his newly redecorated home, courtesy of me and my design team.  He shrugs his shoulders, waving his hand like an invitation home, to meet his family, is no big deal.  It’s a big fucking deal.  “Some of those pictures from the parking lot will be all over the internet.  I wouldn’t have let them be taken if I didn’t want them.  How often do you see pap shots of me in the press?  Those photos are to show you, and the world, I don’t care what size your dress is.  You are fucking perfect for me.”  He continues to watch the road carefully, slowing as a deer crosses our path. “Look out, Bambi,” he mumbles under his breath.  “Mom will want to meet you; the girl I allowed myself to get photographed with…”

Anxiously, my shaking hands brush my hair to the side and tie it in a low knot, a nervous habit.  “You want me to meet your mom?”

“If words can’t tell you how alluring I think you are, maybe it’s time you meet the three most important women in my life.  You’ll see how beautiful they are to me,” he explains, his voice nearly choked in emotion.  “You’ll know then you are beautiful to me because of you, inside and out.”

Chris’s mom and sisters shaped the man he is; although I haven’t met them yet, I bought frames for all the pictures of them displayed in his home.  The soft spot in our hearts for the handsome man beside me isn’t the only thing we have in common, I think, picturing the lovely women in my mind.  My voice is also strangled with emotion, “Well, then, I guess we’re going to Boston this weekend.”

Click here to read “Dancing Lessons”

Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Honorable Mention

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An Emery and Chris story

By avenger-nerd-mom

Emery Thomas, fiancé of Chris Evans, struggles with being apart during the press tour, but receives some great work news! Can Chris make it home in time to be there when she needs him?

Warnings: Language, references to excessive drinking and anxiety

Word Count: 4044

And Emery collapses back into her seat behind her desk.  The students watch her with concern, but split into their smaller groups for tutoring time.  She rubs her temples, trying to fend off the building headache.  She looks up when her friend and principal, Katie Harris, steps into the room, giving a weak smile.

“Rachel,” Principal Harris addresses Emery’s favorite student. “Would you run down to the lounge and bring back a soda for Ms. Thomas?  Meet us by the auditorium with it.  The rest of you kids, since you are here, head up to the balcony.  An all call is about to go out, and anyone in the building is going to be asked to meet in the auditorium.”

Emery eyes her friend with curiosity and watches as the kids leave the room.  She motions she will lock up the room and the girls leave their purses and things behind jut as the intercom clicks to life with an announcement for everyone to meet in ten minutes.

“What’s going on?” Emery asks.  She’s tired and doesn’t want to move from this spot.  She wonders if the kids could just wheel her rolling chair out to the car after tutoring tonight so she doesn’t have to walk. She smiles to herself at the image in her head.

Katie leans against the work table admiring the most recent flowers delivered to Emery this week.  “He sends them every week, doesn’t he?” she smiles, gently caressing the fluffy blooms of the lilacs in the bouquet.

Smiling, Emery nods her head yes.  “He knows spring flowers are my favorite.  They just smell so fresh and earthy.”  She rubs at her temple again and asks, “Do I have to go the auditorium? Can’t you just tell me whatever it is and let me conserve some energy?”

“Sorry babe.  It’s not my deal,” Katie replies.  “Mr. Shanes is coming over from the board office with district news.  Are you okay?  You seem out of it,” she asks, worried for her friend.

Emery raises and eyebrow and shakes her head back and forth.  “You want an answer as a friend, or a boss?”

“I’ll take whatever you give me.  Just remember, I’m always your friend first.”  The two women have been friends for years, since Emery served as her student teacher in the same building years ago.

“I’m screwed.  My kids aren’t ready for the state tests this year.  Scores are gonna be crap, because I haven’t been around for them the way they need me and when I am here, my head is wherever Chris is.”  She keeps her voice low, trying not to poke at her headache.  “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Katie sighs deeply, “Em, why didn’t you come to me?  Why didn’t you tell me you felt this way?”

Emery puts her dead down on her desk, tears threatening to spill out as the pounding in her head increases.  “I don’t think I realized I felt this way until just this week.  He was here this weekend.  He had a little over 48 hours free and he came to see me.  That’s so great, and I needed it, needed him, but now I feel selfish because he’s got more press bullshit and he didn’t get to rest.”

“What do you want?” Katie asks of her friend.  “Cause I’ve had an idea or two about next school year that allows you more flexibility, we just haven’t talked yet… Do you want to keep teaching?”

Emery looks up, the tears breaking their hold.  She shakes her head, no.  “For the first time in my life, I have something I want more than teaching.  I want him; I want to be with him, to be where he is.”

Katie moves to pat her friend’s shoulder as the intercom crackles on. “Principal Harris and all faculty and staff, please report to the auditorium,” announces a cold voice over the speaker system.

“Come on girl, let’s go get you that soda.  After the asshat is done with whatever meeting this is about, let’s go get tacos.  And I’ll tell you some of the ideas I’ve had.”

“Did you just call your boss an asshat?” Emery giggles when Katie nods her head. “God, we haven’t had tacos in ages.  Is that still code for nachos and tequila?” She laughs as stands and walks to the door, arm and arm with her friend.

“Oh, honey, so much tequila!  Let’s have a good old-fashioned girls’ night out! Want me to call Tammy?”

“Yea, do that.  Her sorry ass probably could use a drink too.  Did you hear the shit they pulled on her at work last week?”

Emery’s spirits begin to lift as the two women catch up on details of their other friend and walk to the auditorium.


Mr. Shanes, the District Superintendent, take center stage, calling the teachers and a small gathering of students to attention.  Emery isn’t really paying attention as she pops two aspirin and takes a large chug from the soda Rachel brought her.  She snaps to when she hears her name being called and a commotion around her.  The teacher next to her tugs her arm and tells her to stand up.  “What? I wasn’t listening.  What’s going on?”

“Emery, dear, he just announced you as District Teacher of the Year!  Go, get up on stage!”

Emery stands frozen for a moment, looking around the large auditorium.  It’s the students, her kids, in the balcony, cheering and giving each other high-fives that motivates her to move forward.  “We love you Miss Thomas!” They collectively yell.

Her tears return, this time of joy as she ascends the side stairs.  Mr. Shanes welcomes her with a hug, congratulating her.  “Miss Thomas, I want to thank you for your dedication to this school and your students.  It is evident,” he gestures to the balcony where her kids sit, “that they love you.”

Standing by his side, he turns to address the room again.  “Thank you students for your attendance today.  It’s clear this woman has made an impact on you, and that’s what teaching is all about.  In a district with nearly 2600 teachers, you are lucky enough to have the best.  Miss Thomas will be receiving honors at the upcoming teacher appreciation dinner.”  He announces to the group, “Invitations for the dinner will be in your mailboxes tomorrow and students are welcome to attend.  Thank you all for coming this afternoon.  To show my appreciation for all you do, go home early tonight!”

The room erupts in more applause as teachers and staff file out, excited to leave twenty minutes earlier than usual.

Mr. Shanes hands Emery an envelope, telling her information about the dinner is inside.  “Miss Thomas, you are allowed four free guests.  There is a dinner fee for any other guests you wish to bring.  It sure would be nice if that superhero of yours could attend!”

“Yes, sir, I’m sure he’ll want to be here,” Emery smiles, still trying to soak in the news she’s just received. I just hope he’s not too busy.

Emery’s words are a little slurred.  “I think my headache feels better, but I might be too drunk to know.”

Tammy laughs, “Whoo-hoo! We haven’t seen drunk Emery in a long time!  This is when you spill the beans!   So tell us, what’s Captain America like in bed?”

Emery blushes and smiles, hundreds of thoughts flashing through her mind at once, “No, guys, no, I can’t.  That’s… that’s not nice.  He’s my future husband… I can’t.”

Tammy takes another shot of tequila.  “Why not? We talk about my husband all the time.”

“Yea, but none of us might go talk to someone else who might then turn it around for some tabloid story.  No, I have NO complaints, but Chris and bedroom talk is not up for discussion.”

Katie laughs, “Oh, come on! Something?  Do any of our theories hold up?  I mean, all those times we’ve watched the movies you made us watch, you made us fall in love with him too, and now you can’t tell us anything?”

Emery motions to the waiter for another drink.  “London is not his O face.  Neither is the face when he played Frozen Black Jack with Fallon.  It’s more… beautiful.”  She pauses, trying to count the empty shot glasses, beer bottles and empty glasses on the table.  “Shit, did I just say that? Fuck.”

“Does he send dick pics?” Tammy wants to know.

Emery laughs, “Oh, come on, really? Stop!  Besides, allusion is sexier.  Gimme that damn Rolling Stone photo any day!”

“We still have to wait for the movie, can’t you tell us something?” Katie pleads.

“No, I’m not that drunk.  After all the stuff I saw during the first week of press, Marvel doesn’t play around.  I don’t care if the movie is out in other countries, I ain’t tellin’ you nuthin’.”

The other girls continue to tease and joke with Emery, and as the restaurant staff begins to clean up around them, Emery calls her younger brother, Parker.  “Hey, Parker? Whatchya doin’?” she giggles.

“Brent and I are playing video games. You sound weird. What’s up?”

“Um, the designated driver decided to get wasted too… Can you come to the Mexican place on Fordham Road?  You can drive my car back to my place and Brent can take you back home?”

Parker laughs, “It’s late. I got school tomorrow. What’s in it for me?”

“Parker Thomas! Do not be an asshat! Come rescue me!” Emery commands.

“Did you just call me an ‘asshat?’  Nice language, sis… I’m not your superhero… Mom and Dad will flip. IfI get caught, you owe me,” says the younger boy.

“Fine, I owe you, but only if you get caught. Leave a note on the counter, then they can’t totally get mad,” Emery advises, “but try not to wake them up.”

The women actually order another round while they wait for their ride.


When the restaurant door opens, the girls all freeze mid-laugh.  “Oh, shit,” Emery mumbles under her breath.  “Hi, Daddy! What are you doing here?”

Parker rushes in the restaurant, halting behind his father.  “Sorry, Em.  I got caught.”

“Parker, we’re good here.  You and Brent go on over to Emery’s and let out the dog.  We’ll be along shortly,” the older gentleman’s voice is quiet and kind, but his facial expression shows his displeasure at being rousted late at night by his oldest and youngest children.  Parker shrugs at Emery and mouths the word ‘sorry’ before stepping back out under the glow of the bright restaurant lights.

Preston Thomas walks to the table, waving at the remaining wait staff.  He pulls a nacho from the basket, dipping it in the salsa and dousing it with additional hot sauce before saying a word.  “Miss Emery.  Don’t you think you are too old for this nonsense?  And you, Katie Harris? I should have known you were in on this…”

“Hey, Mr. Thomas!  Good to see you again, sir,” Principal Harris giggles.

He rolls his eyes at her and pats her on the shoulder.  “All right ladies. Let’s get out of here… Ricardo, voy a pagar para estas chicas.  ¿Cuánto cuestan?”

The price is called out and Preston pulls a few bills from his wallet, tossing them on the table.  “Quite a collection of empty glasses there, ladies.  Emery, it reminds me of that time I had to rescue you from Tommy Larson’s house when you were seventeen.  Girls, have you ever heard that story?  No? Well, we got a long car ride home for me to tell it.”

“Tommy Larson, the guy with the weird realtor billboards?” Tammy asks, curiously wondering about her friend’s taste in boys back in high school.

“Shut up,” Emery mumbles.  “I don’t feel so good… Any chance I can get a sub tomorrow?”

“No!” Preston and Katie respond in unison.


“Thanks again, Dad,” Emery giggles, reaching on her tip toes to kiss her father good night as he leaves the girls on the porch.  He had delivered Tammy to her home and was pleased Katie was going to stay in Emery’s guest room for the night.  “I’ll call you in the morning, ok?”

“Ok, darlin’,” the man sighs, squeezing his daughter’s shoulder.  “And congratulations again on your honor.  Teacher of the Year!  That is something!  Wait till I tell your mother!”

Emery watches as the distinguished gentlemen gets in the car with her brother and drives away.  Locking the doors and turning out the lights, she checks her phone to see if Chris has called yet.  For the first time in over a week, they are in the same time zone, but he hasn’t returned her messages.

“Hey, I’m in here,” Katie calls from the master bedroom.

Emery laughs, finding her friend already curled up under the blankets in her bed.  “Gee, Katie, make yourself at home.”

“He hasn’t answered you back.  I thought you might be kinda lonesome. You wanna talk about it?”

“No. Because now I have a drunk headache and it’s almost worse… Can it just wait?” Emery quietly asks, climbing into the bed, not even bothering to take off her work clothes.  “Yuck. We smell like Mexican food,” she giggles while reaching to turn out the lamp.

“Does he know you’re struggling with this?”

Emery grasps her forehead, trying to push back the headache.  “Fuck, no,” she responds quietly.  “We had a fight in LA and then all the press and then he left for Singapore and I just don’t feel like we got it back together, ya know?  And I don’t want him worrying about me when he has to be gone.  So I’ve just kinda kept quiet.  It’s not good for me, but his anxiety and stress is so high right now, I can’t do that to him.  I just feel like, maybe if I-“

She was interrupted by the Marvel theme playing on her phone.  “Katie, go to sleep; we’ll talk in the morning.”

Emery climbs out of bed and carries the phone out to the guest bathroom.  She flips on the light as she answers, “Hey, sweetie.  How was your night?”  She tries to downplay the exhaustion in her voice as she quietly takes two more aspirin.

As Chris talks to her about his day and the events scheduled for tomorrow, she stares at her reflection in the mirror.  Drunk Emery isn’t that pretty.  Her eyeliner is smudged, and her mascara has oddly clumped together from crying.  She finds some baby wipes under the counter and begins to remove her make up.  Chris says something about an honor and that makes her mind jump.  “Oh, babe! Sorry!  Sorry to interrupt, but I have news!  We had a special assembly after school, and I was named District Teacher of the Year!”

“Emery!  That’s amazing news!  Why didn’t you tell me?  Oh, my God, babe, I am so proud of you!”

Emery chuckles, “Honey, I’m a little drunk. Katie, Tammy and I have all had a rough week, and we went out.  My Dad had to come rescue us and drive us home.”

Chris laughs.  “Drinking with your boss?  Niiiice…  I’m glad you guys went out.  You had a good time?”

“I did.  I needed that; it was nice to see the girls, get away from something other than just school talk.  They were bugging me about you and wedding details and the inside scoop on life in Hollywood.”

“Sounds like fun.  I wish I could have been there…” Chris stifles a yawn.  “So this award?  Was that it, at school?  That doesn’t sound elaborate enough for such a special honor.”

“Oh, no!  There’s a big dinner later in the month.  All kinds of district employees are honored as well as scholarships presented to students.  It’s a really big deal; I want you to be there with me, if you can.”  Emery crosses her fingers like a small child might.  She knows he was going back to work on another project right after the Civil War press ended.

“Shit, Em, I’m booked till the end of the month; right up to our vacation.  What day?”

Emery makes small talk, telling him more about the assembly, leaving out her tears and headache, as she searches her school bag for the envelope with the information.  She flicks on the living room lamp and sits on the couch next to West, snoring away.  She tells him the date and flinches when he whispers. “Fuck, no.”

“Chris?  This is like the equivalent of the Oscars to me.  I was nominated by other teachers and interviewed and voted on by a district panel.  This is a big deal.”

Chris sighs deeply.  She can see him in her mind, rubbing his hand over his beard, trying to decide what to do or say.  “I know, I know.  I’ll figure it out.  I really can’t that date, but I will figure it out.  Until then, please don’t be upset.   I am so, so happy for you!  You work so hard.  You deserve it.  Those kids are so lucky to have you in class.”

“Thanks, honey.”  She is warmed by his praise, but worries his Hollywood schedule might not be flexible.

“Sweetie? Call my mom tomorrow.  She’s been dying to see you and visit South; to see your parents again.  Invite her; tell her I will make all the arrangements.  That way, if for some reason I can’t make it, at least you have family there besides just your mom and dad, okay? Will you do that?”

“Mmmhmmm.  I like that idea,” Emery agrees.  “Babe, I’m drunk and tired.  I need sleep.  Do you know if any killer photos are gonna be released tomorrow? I’m finding it hard to get through the day with all these pictures that keep appearing.  Like, I think I need to start carrying a change of panties with me, cause each one is hotter than the next!”

“You still mad about the hair?” he chuckles quietly.

“Hmph,” she scoffs. “No, I’m not mad about the hair. It’s sexy as fuck and I can’t wait to get my hands in it.  No, Evans, I’m irritated at this slow burn of photos, a new one here, a new one there… I’m so gonna get you at that game.  You just wait. Between the haircut and Rolling Stone pictures… Be prepared.  I can play just as wicked.”

“Oh, baby, I bet you can. I can’t wait to see what you’ve got for me.”


“Katie, wake up!  We overslept!” Emery shouts, running around her room, trying to get ready for work.

“Em. Em! Stop! I have a hangover.  Shushy!” The dark haired principal throws the pillow over her face to block out the light.  “I’m your boss.  Chill out.  We’re going to breakfast.  We need to talk.  Please hand me my phone and let me get your first few classes covered.”


After taking Katie by her place for a quick shower and a change of clothes, the two women stop for breakfast in a little place they love near the school.  They each order their favorites and continue to wake up in a comfortable silence. But Emery feels like she is waiting for a boom to drop, that Katie might have something to tell her she doesn’t want to hear.

“Katie, you’re killing me.  What is it?”

“First, babe, you gotta tell him how you feel.  If these separations aren’t going to work for you, you two have to figure out something together.”

Emery plays with the rim of her coffee cup.  “I know.  You’re right.  I will.  But face to face.  When he’s had time to rest.  He was so exhausted when I talked to him last night.  It was heartbreaking.  I can’t add stress to him right now.”

“Babe, let me tell you, that’s why I’m divorced now.  Because I thought I had to do everything by myself.  You have to learn to share the burdens.  You can’t do it alone.  And it’s ten times worse cause he’s fucking Captain America and everything you both do will be watched closely.  You have anxiety issues too.  You can’t hide what you feel to spare him.”

“Right again, woman….”

“That’s why I’m the boss.  Which is why we’re here.  This is a business meeting, not just a friendly breakfast,” Katie begins.

“What are you talking about?” Emery inquires.

“Emery, I want to offer you an administration position for next school year, starting in January,” Katie smiles, knowing her friend is slightly confused.

Setting her bacon back down on the edge of her plate, Emery wipes her hands on her napkin.  “Have you lost your mind?  How would being a principal help me?”

Katie signals for coffee refills.  “Not principal.  Mr. Shanes said it himself.  You’re the best we have to offer.   What you do in the classroom, during tutoring? Anyone could do that if they put their heart into like you do.  It comes naturally to you.  Some people need to learn how.  I want you to teach them.  Emery, I want you to become an Instructional Coach, and teach others to teach like you do.”

Emery drops her fork, mid-bite.  “Katie, you know I’ve always wanted to do that!”  Her smile begins to grow.  “That’s not an everyday classroom job; that would free me up to travel with Chris when he needed me, or I needed him…”

Katie smiles, “Exactly.  I was thinking we get you a student teacher for the first quarter.  I hear a few of your former students are looking for placements.  Pick one and train HER to take your job.  You have a student teacher all of first quarter. Second quarter, you take sabbatical. Attend trainings for coaching, plan a wedding, be on set for Infinity War filming.  After Christmas, you come back and put in your weekly hours, doing whatever needs to be done, wherever the district needs you.  You could arrange your own schedule, as long as you put in the hours.”

Emery bubbles with laughter, “Oh, my God, Katie!  That might actually work!  That’s brilliant!”

Joining in the laughter, Katie says, “That’s why they pay me the big bucks.  Talk it over with your fiancé.  I need an answer by next week, but I don’t want to go public with it till after the appreciation banquet.


From the head table at the banquet dinner, Emery scans the room.  She pauses to watch as Miss Lisa charms a group of her students, probably telling tales of Chris as a young student himself.   Her parents and siblings are all chatting with one another and various people from the community they know.  She tries to mask the sadness on her face. Katie Harris, friend and principal, moves into her place in the empty chair beside Emery.  “You okay, babe?”

Emery shakes her head.  “No.  Tell Mr. Shanes to quit stalling.  The emergency landing in Cleveland due to the storms is going to delay him too much.  Everyone is nearly finished with dessert. Let’s just get it over with.”

“You know he tried to move heaven and earth for you?” Katie asks.

“I know he did.  I’m not mad,” she sighs, managing a shaky smile.  “He tries to control a lot of things, but the weather isn’t one of them.”

She checks her phone one last time while Principal Harris rises to introduce her as Teacher of the Year.  Lost in her own thoughts, she joins her friend when Katie clasps her shoulder in affection during her introduction, prompting her to rise and address the room.  Emery hates public speaking.  She falls into her old habit of imaging a room full of students rather than a conference hall full of colleagues in the field of teaching.  As her speech quiets and the standing ovation for her efforts subsides, the lights come back up in the room. Standing against the back wall, Chris applauds her loudly, clasping a bouquet of flowers under his arm, his face beaming with pride.  Even in the noise of the room, she can hear him loud as day as she reads his lips, “Proud of you! Till the end of the line, babe.”

Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom


confessions 4 11 16


An Emery&Chris story

By avenger-nerd-mom

The morning after their first fight, Chris and Emery have a lot of things to talk about

Warnings: Language, Adult Situations, references to Spirituality, anxiety

Word count 3340

Please read Fire and Ice first…

“Shit,” Chris mumbles when he rolls onto his back and realizes Emery isn’t by his side.  He hits the side of the bed where she should be laying with a closed fist, sighing deeply.  He brings his fist back to his chest and lets it land with a thump. “Damn, I fucked up,” he admits out loud.  He lays there with his thoughts, trying to wake up.  Sitting up, he rubs at his face, roughly wiping the sleep from his eyes.  The brawny actor swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands up slowly feeling a bit of last night’s booze hitting his head.

He grabs the jeans off the chair and tugs them on over his black Calvin Klein boxer briefs.  Grabbing a t-shirt from the drawer, he smiles when he sees it’s from her younger brother’s high school football team.  It’s nice that little parts of their separate lives are slowly bleeding into one another and their households are slowly becoming one.  Two months ago on Emery’s first visit to his LA home, she wouldn’t have ventured out of his room early in the morning, but he’s happy now she feels more at home here.  She still doesn’t like LA, but she doesn’t have to; he doesn’t plan to have her live here with him.  LA will be for work and transitions only.  That’s his thought anyway, if he could get her to talk about some of their future plans.

Chris is disappointed Emery isn’t in the sitting room where she often grades papers on her visits.  A sickening dread fills his stomach.  He could call out to her, but he knows she hates that.  Instead of searching the whole house he decides coffee is needed first.  He shuffles down the stairs and checks in different rooms as he makes his way to the back of the house. He rounds the corner into the bright open kitchen and finds her sitting at the table.  He pauses for a moment to admire her beauty and smiles at the way she folds her feet up under her to sit when she reads.  “Hey, short stuff, you’re up early,” he says cheerfully trying to start the morning off right.

“No,” she shakes her head, not looking up from her book.  “If you’re still trying nicknames, don’t add that one to the list.  Coffee is already in your travel cup.  And it’s not that early.”  Her tone still has a slight edge to it, but she takes a deep breath and tries to lighten herself.  “Want the other half of my bagel?”  She pushes the plate towards Chris, but he shakes his head.  He reaches into the cabinet for a cereal bowl and turns behind him to the cabinet to pull out a box of Honey Bunches of Oats.  “No almonds?” She asks, smiling.

He opens the fridge for the milk.  “They were out,” he mumbles.  “Thanks for fixing my coffee.”

Looking at her man, Emery’s smile deepens.  “Damn, you are heaven,” she says quietly, admiring the trail that disappears down in the waistband of his jeans.  He scratches his side, pulling her attention to the Bardsley tattoo.  She gazes over his torso, her eye pulling to the vein in his left arm and traveling up to his beautiful face.  When her eyes greet his, he winks at her, wiggling his eyebrow.  She sticks out her tongue at him when he picks up the bowl of cereal to eat.

“Not gonna tell me to wear a shirt in the kitchen?” he teases, shoveling a big spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

“It’s your house.  You can keep your gross man habits.  Just don’t fix me any food,” she laughs, returning her attention back to her reading.

Leaning against the kitchen island, Chris crosses his feet at his ankles and puts his weight against the counter.  He watches Emery deep in thought and wishes he really could read what goes on in the brilliant mind of hers.  The sun shines in the room and highlights the tiny hairs on her arms and adds a glow to her halo of red hair.  “Whatchya reading?” he asks, his mouth still full of food.

She blushes slightly and lifts up her dog-eared book, holding it so he can see it.  “The Bible?” Chris pauses momentarily suddenly feeling like a heathen but he can’t bite back his first thought.  “Gonna get me to confess all my sins this morning?”

Emery guffaws and her eyes glass over for a brief moment, as though she is picturing something in her mind.  “Oh, honey, we don’t have time for all of that!  Aren’t we meeting the Downeys for brunch before the press conference?”

He releases a gut busting laugh.  “How many sins do you think I have?”

“Babe, you wanna touch this book and see if your hands burn?” she laughs taking a sip of her coffee.  She looks down to her book and gently runs her hands over the thin pages.  “I just felt like I needed a little focus…,” she says reflectively.   “It is today we meet them, right?”

“Yeah, in like two hours.  Nothing fancy.  I think Scarlett and her husband are meeting us too,” he responds, rinsing out his bowl and placing it in the dishwasher.  He makes a big production out of it so she can see he didn’t leave it in the sink this time.

Giggling, Emery claps her hands praising him like she would for her young nephew.  “So… You and Scarlett?” she shyly asks.

Hearing the catch in her voice, Chris stops wiping down the counter and turns to look at her.  “Ah.  So this IS a confession of my sins,” he laughs, trying to keep things light.  Emery meant what she said the night before.  She hasn’t asked him about his past unless it truly pertains to her or their relationship.  Being a fan, she knows the stories of his playboy ways, but some of that is just stories.

“So you admit you and Scarlett sinned?” Emery rubs her temples, not sure if she really wants an answer to this question.

Chris wipes his hands on a clean dishtowel.  He pulls on his t-shirt, picking up the coffee mug and moving to sit next to her at the table.  “Scarlett and I have been friends for a long time.”  He pauses and Emery catches a sadness in his voice.  “We were too different, but still too much alike…  We just didn’t… work.  We were never really a couple, and I’ll admit, it wasn’t from a lack of trying on both our parts at different times over the years.” Emery watches as different memories seem to pass through his mind while he fidgets with the mug in his hands.  He raises his eyes to look at her and smiles. “I’m glad Scar and I can still be friends and that we have opportunities to work together.  She’s an amazing person…  She kinda ranks right up there with Tara for me.”

Emery shakes her head.  “You know; your pedestal of perfect women is getting a bit crowded.”

Caressing her cheek, Chris laughs at her statement.  “Sweetheart, it’s a two-tiered pedestal, and you’re the only one at the very top.”

Emery feels the warmth of his large hand on her face.  An image flashes in her mind and she can’t suppress her giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Chris asks, confused.

Emery holds up her hand as the laughter runs its course, “Oh my god,” she breaths out trying to gain control.  “Oh my god, I just had this little cartoon image of me standing up there and your mom trying to climb up and share the space with me.”

Chris looks hurt when she doubles over in laughter again.  “That’s not fair! My mom loves you!”

“Chris!  I know, but you realize it’s hard for her to come to terms that she’s not number one anymore.”

Chris thinks for a few moments and nods his agreement.  Taking her tiny hand in his he runs his thumb over her engagement ring, twisting the band and replies, “I’m sure it’s tough for her, but you’re my number one girl…  And Mom knows that; that’s just the way it is from now on.”  He pauses and takes a deep breath.  Time to tackle the elephant in the room.  “We’ve got a bit of time left before we have to drive down into the valley.  Do you want to talk about Mi-“ seeing the murderous look on her face, he slightly changes tactics. “-me at the dog park?”

Emery glares at him.  She looks down at the cover of her Bible closing her eyes and saying a silent prayer.  “I will never want to talk about… that.  We will.  Some day.  But not today…  I do think there’s a mistake we’ve made in our relationship though. And I’m to-“

“Mistake?”  Chris pulls his hand away.  “What do you mean a ‘mistake?’”  Chris’s heart begins to race and his thoughts can’t be controlled.  “Is that why you don’t wanna talk about getting married?  You think we made a mistake? You don’t wanna get married?”

“Christopher! Stop!  What are you talking about?! Of course I want to get married, you fool, I love you!  Why would you even ask that?” Emery’s voice rises, not really sure what’s happening and struggling to keep both their anxiety levels in check.  She reaches for his hand, pulling it back to her, caressing his palm gently.

Chris takes a few deep calming breaths in through his nose and with his other hand, he rubs at the back of his neck. His voice is strained and quiet and his fear is on display.  “Why don’t you want to talk about anything wedding related?  You don’t want to look at a calendar or talk about locations or see about dresses…  Are you having second thoughts?”  He hates feeling so vulnerable, but only Emery can make his world right again.  He needs to know what she is thinking.

Emery copies his breathing and bites the inside of her cheek.  She lifts his hand to her mouth and kisses his palm.  “Oh, silly boy!  Of course not!  I thought it was obvious!  Neither of us need the stress of planning a wedding on top of the Marvel press mania.  You’re going to be halfway around the world for the next month, I have state tests…  I just want to enjoy being engaged to the man I love!  One step at a time.”

“Is that really all it is?  Then what did you mean just now, that we made a mistake?”  Chris can’t hide his insecurities, which may have been an even bigger elephant in the room he hadn’t noticed before.

“I promise, that’s all it is.”  Emery stands from her chair and moves to sit in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and gently kissing his ripe red lips.  “I love you till the end of the line.  You can’t get rid of me.  I was just thinking of you.  Believe me, I have wedding thoughts!  Got a whole secret board on Pinterest full of ideas!  Ilaria is already looking for dresses styled like one I liked, and we can’t set a date yet because we don’t really have your filming schedule down for next fall.  But there’s really no rush…”

“Ilaria’s already looking for a dress?”  Chris smiles, wondering when this little power house went behind his back to contact his personal fashion goddess/miracle worker.

Emery bites her lip to hide a shy smile.  “We may have talked about styles once or twice.  I found a dress months ago I liked,” she teases.

“Months ago?  I just asked you like three weeks ago.”  Chris looks at her puzzled.  Winking at him, Emery just shrugs her shoulders.  “You found a dress already?  When did you talk to Ilaria?”

Emery drapes one hand down Chris’s arm, feeling his bicep before placing it to rest on the crook of his elbow, playing with the sleeve of his t-shirt.  “My aren’t you full of questions today!  I had my suspicions the question would come eventually, so when I would see something I liked, I made a note of it.  I found a dress I really loved and I talked to Ilaria last week with some ideas.  She’s on it!  She’s amazing!”

Chris smiles at the excitement on her face.  “Do I get to see it?” he asks quietly, nuzzling his nose against her neck.

“NO! It’s bad luck!”

“Fine,” he chuckles knowing she’s going to be very picky about certain traditions, but create her own to fit her strong will.  “So we can check the dress of the list of things to find.  And you know money is no object.  Do not even THINK about a budget.  I am only doing this ONCE in my life and I want to give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of, do you hear me?”

“Yes, sir, Captain, sir,” she chuckles, giving him a salute.  “No budget. Got it.”

“And why do you say there is no rush?”

“Ok.  So close your eyes.  Picture this.”  With his eyes closed and his lashes dark against his pale cheeks, Emery gently kisses his eyelids.  “Snow. Winter. Boston.” The spirited red head is so thrilled with this revelation she practically bounces in his lap.

“Do you have any idea what you’re saying?”  He can’t believe what she’s saying.  She wants to get married in Boston. “Baby, you’ve seen snow maybe four times in your life, my sweet little Georgia peach. Do you have any idea how cold that could be, or how it could make travel difficult for people?”

Emery makes a face.  “Not ‘Georgia peach’ either.  I don’t care.  I’ll take those risks.  Snow.  Lots of it!  White, white lights, beautiful… But NOT Christmas; just a winter wedding.”

“I thought weddings were usually in the woman’s hometown?” He’s already starting to picture it in his mind, thinking of the perfect place back in Boston.

“Fuck etiquette.  I want snow. Snow means Boston.  Boston means home.  We’ll get married in your hometown, with all our friends and family and it will be perfect and amazing and-“

“-beautiful,” he interrupts, cutting her off with a kiss.  He takes both hands and places them on the sides of her tiny face, his fingers running into her braid.  His lips push against hers while his tongue teases her to let him in.  She opens her mouth and makes space, tangling her tongue with his, tasting of coffee and sugar.  He captures the tiny whine she makes and pulls back, gently tugging her lower lip between his teeth.  “You are beautiful… It sounds beautiful.  I can see it… Snow, Winter, Boston.  If that’s what you want, it’s yours.”

He dips his forehead to press against hers.  He takes another deep breath to tackle the last unknown of the morning.  “What mistake?” he asks quietly.  “You said you think we made a mistake?”

Emery tilts her head to kiss the tip of his nose.  “Relax, Evans.  Maybe mistake wasn’t the right word…  Well?  I don’t know… But it just became apparent to me last night that we’ve only been out in public a few times together…”  She plays with the hair at the back of his neck, still wishing he had let her trim it before the press started.  She misses the “Gifted” hair he had when they first met.  “All our dates were with your family or mine, hanging out at my house or driving around Savannah late at night so no one would spot us together.  We haven’t really been around other people, together.  Our communication skills kinda suck.  And if you ever try to physically intimidate me again, ever, I will make sure you regret it.”  She tugs his hair and he winces.

“I believe you,” he relents through gritted teeth acting as if the pain is unbearable.  “Well, if that’s our mistake, that’s on me.  I just did it to protect you.  Hollywood is no place for a woman like you.  I don’t want your life to change just because mine is crazy.”

“And I appreciate that.  And I don’t think it really has all that much.  I mean, not every math teacher gets to rub elbows with Marvel elite or attend back stage parties at the MTV Movie Awards or get whisked away in a limo after the Oscars.  But I think I’m doing all right, don’t you?”

“Everywhere we have been together, kitten, people fall in love with you,” Chris smiles, rubbing his thumb across her freckles.  “You’re charming and funny and smart.  Even with your own anxiety, I think your teacher training keeps you relaxed.  And you manage to keep really calm. I gotta tell ya, sometimes, I find that damn infuriating.”

Emery tilts her head from side to side.  “Kitten?  I might be able to live with that one…  Listen, we both can’t fly off the handle at the same time.  You and your Italian, Boston boy attitude and my fiery red hair might clash from time to time.  And our anxiety?  We just have to make sure it’s only one meltdown at a time.”  She holds his face in her hands and scratches at his beard.  “Look at the time, don’t we need to get ready to go?”

Chris turns to check the clock on the stove.   He shakes his head negatively.  “It’s a jeans and t-shirt place.  We’re both fine.  There probably will be paparazzi.  Won’t Parker get a kick out of seeing me in his school football shirt?”

Emery smiles when she thinks about how elated Parker would be if Chris, his hero, was photographed in public in his team shirt.  “Honey, I’m in a Peggy Carter t-shirt.  Isn’t that a little weird?” Emery asks, tugging on the hair tie and pulling the braid from her hair, letting it fall in loose red waves around her shoulders.

“Steve Rogers approves,” he chuckles.  “We got time for one other thing I need to say.”  He pauses and scratches his beard against his bottom lip.  She can feel his heart rate starting to rise under her hands that she placed against his chest.  He drops his eyes and she looks to his beautiful lashes, seeing a confessionary pose. “I need you to know a lot changed for me after that weekend I… I walked the dogs.  That’s when I really decided to make some lasting changes in my life.  A photo doesn’t tell a true story.  Just what’s captured in that moment…  You could have easily said ‘fuck it’ and let me drift out of your life.”  Chris looks up at Emery and all the unsaid words are written in the tender look of love he gifts to her.  His voice softens and chokes out his final confession for the morning, “I love you, Emery Thomas.  You are my world.   Thank you for taking a chance on me.  I don’t want you to ever regret that, or think it’s a mistake.”

The press tour already has him tied in knots and it’s only been two days.  She’s only with him till the end of the week, but she will do everything in her power to keep him calm and relaxed. She whispers quietly to him, “Christopher Robert Evans, I will never regret you. I promise, you are the best thing I ever found on the internet.”

Emery leans in close and gently brushes her lips slowly across his before moving in for a full, love affirming kiss.   Her fingertips lightly grace the sides of his face infusing him with her strength and affection.  Confidently she tells him, “I’m with you till the end of the line.  You are my joy, my prince.  I love you too.”

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