The first Christmas in the newly-wed Rogers household was a little belated this year. After returning from their honeymoon, which had turned out to be two full weeks of exotic, fantastical bliss, Steve and Lucy had found themselves drawn into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s inner workings, given access to various files and resources, and generally had their time filled more than they might have been expecting. Though they had both worked over Christmas itself, they'd managed to finagle a few days off between Christmas and the New Year together, finally having the time to settle into Steve's little apartment as man and wife. The decorations were a little haphazard, but at least they had managed to mark the season with a little sparkle.

With the mischief inherent in her character, Lucy had made Steve promise no presents until the evening of the day they had chosen to celebrate Christmas on, and had spent much of that day deliberately prancing around the apartment, singing along to every corny Christmas song she could find on the radio while attempting to help him with dinner. Finally, though, the meal had been completed without mishap, and after several enthusiastic thank yous that had thoroughly distracted both of them from the point of the celebration in the first place, she'd given in, curling up on the couch with a gaily wrapped box on her lap, grinning up at him like a loon. "So, Captain Rogers," she teased cheerfully, "think you're ready yet?"

Unlike Johnny who might have quipped that he was born ready, Steve only smiled, slightly embarrassed at receiving a gift, even if it was a Christmas present. He couldn't remember when the last time was he'd celebrated Christmas or exchanged presents with anyone, thankful he and Lucy were alone for the holiday, which felt awkward after seventy years. He'd made no secret what he thought about what had become of what had once been one of his favorite holidays. He preferred a simple celebration to the glitzy, materialistic, commercial greed of the modern world, and that was exactly what he and Lucy had tried to recreate. A simple celebration that was more about the true meaning of the season and less about gifts, and yet, here he was on the receiving end of a present, and he had a small surprise for her of his own.

"Is it going to pop out at me?" he asked, arching a curious brow at the colorfully wrapped box she held in her lap, that excited almost child-like expression on her face.

She giggled, patting the couch beside her even as she inched closer. "Sit down and find out," was her coaxing reply. It was ridiculously exciting to be giving him his present, which contained something she'd been keeping to herself for a torturous two weeks, determined to spring it on him in a way that wasn't going to make him faint or forget how to breathe. "I promise, I restrained myself. I didn't buy any sex aids or wrap a ribbon around my boobs this year."

He rolled his eyes as he was wont to do when Lucy was being particularly flirtatious, not missing the fact that her statement implied she had done that before - but not for him. Nevertheless, he took a seat on the couch beside her, trying to hide the small, wrapped box he held behind his back. "I'm not sure if I should be grateful or disappointed," he teased back. They might not have been together long, but they'd been together long enough for him to have become accustomed to her sense of humor and lack of restraint.

"Oh, I'd go with grateful," she assured him, snuggling up by his side to plant a lingering kiss on his cheek. "I was going to get a plaster cast of my boobs painted like your shield, but I thought maybe that was going a little too far." She snickered cheerfully, laying her box on his lap. "Happy Christmas, moonbeam."

He couldn't help but laugh at her teasing remark, even if he did find it scandalous. She was perhaps the only person able to make him relax, to make him take life and himself a little less seriously. "Why do that when I have the real thing?" he actually teased back, becoming more and more comfortable with her as the days went on. Still a boy at heart, excited at the idea of receiving a gift, he flushed a little as he steadied the box one-handedly on his lap, bringing his other hand forward to hand her a small brightly-wrapped box all tied up with a bow.

"Oh, you want me to paint myself red, white, and blue, do you?" she laughed impishly, relinquishing the box with a grin that widened with equal excitement as she found herself handed a box all of her own. Her face lit up like a child's as she wrapped her fingers around the offering, torn between ripping straight into it, and being patient enough to watch Steve open his first. Both were very exciting prospects.

He hadn't missed the tiny Cap shields that Lucy was wearing in her ears, but said nothing about them, just yet. "Maybe I should get you some red, white, and blue lingerie," he suggested, impishly. Maybe she was wearing off on him, just a little, but he'd never admit it. He was just as excited as she was, equally at the prospect of opening the first Christmas gift he'd received in over seventy years or more, as well as giving one. "Ladies first," he suggested, seeing the excitement on her face and hoping she wasn't too disappointed by his gift.

"Mmm, or maybe just the panties," Lucy suggested back to him, full of real mischief today. "I'm pretty sure I could find some Captain America nipple tassels if I looked hard enough." She bounced happily, given permission to utterly destroy the lovely wrapping that surrounded her present in a frenzy of very childlike glee. Shreds of paper scattered around them as she tore the gift open eagerly.

As accustomed as he was becoming of Lucy's flirtatious behavior, he flushed at the thought of her in patriotic-looking nipple tassels, like a stripper in a bar, clearing his throat uncomfortably at the thought and doing his best to maintain his composure. He didn't have time to think on it long as she was tearing into the present and he was laughing at her exuberant enthusiasm. "I hope you like it," he said nervously as he watched her open the gift to his wife on their very first Christmas together. Inside the paper wrapping was a small hinged box, the kind that usually held some sort of jewelry.

It didn't take more than a moment for his slightly hyperactive wife to open up the little hinged lid, and for a blessed moment, she was silent, the expression on her face tender and touched by the beautiful simplicity of his gift to her. Her fingertips touched a delicate heart-shaped locket, set with sparkling crystal, carefully extricating it from the box to hold in her palm. "Oh, Steve, this is beautiful," she told him with genuine pleasure, scrambling to loop her arms around his neck and kiss him soundly. "Thank you."

He smiled, relieved that she seemed to like what he'd picked out. It hadn't cost a lot of money, but he'd tried to pick something that she might like and that might somehow represent the love he felt for her. He returned her kiss, a little taken aback by her reaction to his gift, but pleasantly so. "It's not too old fashioned, is it?" he asked, uncertainly, one hand balancing the box against his lap as she wound her arms around his neck.

The look she gave him was one he was beginning to get used to - the expression that portrayed a certain amount of amusement, along with warm reassurance that his near constant worrying that he was too old-fashioned was severely misplaced. "No, it isn't," she promised him, unwinding her arms from about him with a smile as she carefully undid the clasp, tucking the ends up beneath her hair to clasp together once more. The little heart settled over her breastbone, reflecting the sparkle of the multi-colored Christmas lights outside the window. "It's perfect."

"I saw it and thought of you," he explained as he watched her clasp the heart-shaped locket about her neck, as if it belonged there, just like the ring on her finger. "They're not real diamonds," he pointed out with a small uncertain frown. He wished they were, but diamonds were more than he could afford just yet. Still, it was the thought that counted, and when he'd stumbled across it in the jewelry store, he couldn't resist.

Odd, how as he became overwhelmed she felt her uncertainty fade, her confidence bolstered by the warm acceptance in him of the news she had spent two weeks agonising over sharing with her husband. Even as he looked down, she dipped her head to hold his gaze, her smile widening with undisguised joy, clearly delighted with this turn of events, however unexpected. "Yes, we are," she agreed, her hands restless as she caressed his cheeks, his neck, combing her fingers through his hair tenderly. "Happy Christmas, moonbeam."

It had been a long time since Steve had felt the swell of emotion that filled him at that moment, since he had felt as loved and cared for as he did by Lucy. Too long, always held at arm's length by everyone around him, it seemed. Ironically, it had taken a descendent of Peggy's to find him again, to heal his heart, to help him love again. He had no words with which to answer; words seemed so inadequate to express what he was feeling. Instead, he laid a hand against her middle, though she was not yet swollen with child, tears shining in his bright blue eyes, betraying the feelings he always tried to hard to contain. Whatever gifts they had shared with each other paled in comparison to this. She could not have given him anything more precious than this. "Happy Christmas, Luce," he whispered back, followed by a kiss that tasted salty with tears.

She took his kiss and answered it with her own, curling her arms around his neck, nestling easily into the wide protective strength of the man it had only taken her a single night to know she wanted to spend her life with. Life was complicated for them both, yes - between S.H.I.E.L.D., her as yet ignorant family connections, his connection with her family, and just settling into life with one another, there had been very little time to just be themselves. But here and now, in this moment, things had become very simple and very clear in Lucy's mind. You, me, and our baby. She broke the kiss suddenly, snickering with the familiar mischief. "I can't believe it," she declared teasingly, gently wiping his cheeks dry with her thumbs. "I made you cry, and I didn't even have to stab you with a fork!"

He chuckled through his tears, slightly embarrassed by the brief moment of weakness, and yet, after everything that had happened, wasn't he entitled to a shed a few tears, especially tears of happiness. He lowered his gaze again, that flushed look of embarrassment on his face that made him look more like a boy and less like a man. "Sorry," he apologized, wiping his own face with a hand. "It's not every day you find out you're going to be a father," he continued, as if to explain away the tears. "I love you, Lucy," he whispered, lifting his eyes to hers again, the tears starting anew. "You make me happy." There was something to be said for that. He hadn't felt this happy in a very long time.

"Well, no, you're right there," she told him, irrepressible despite his happy tears. "It isn't every day I find out I'm going to be a father. Do you think your spandex will fit over the baby bump?" Brown eyes sparkling, she patted his beautifully defined abdomen impishly, leaning in to kiss him once again. "If I have my way, you're never going to be unhappy or alone ever again, love," she promised him. "Ever again."

He chuckled again at her irrepressible impishness. He could only stay moody for so long in her presence, and his tears were those of the happy variety, not sad. "That would be a miracle," he remarked, adding, "but I don't think the formula changed my anatomy that much." Her lips found his again, and his smile faded beneath her kiss, eyes drifting closed, if only momentarily. "I'm gonna hold you to that, Lucy," he replied as his eyes drifted open to regard her once again, a small impish smirk of his own forming on his face. "Are you sure there's nothing else you want for Christmas?"

His smirk brought her grin out in full force as she sat back on his knees, utterly failing to even touch innocence in passing as her expression seemed to settle into something that could most accurately be called 'naughty schoolgirl". "What, you need a written invitation now?" she asked him laughingly. "Or should I get a sign post tattooed down there, instead?"

"You said if you had your way, and I thought you might want to....you know....have your way..." He was slowly growing more comfortable with her, more accustomed to her teasing and her sense of humor, almost comfortable enough to match her wit, though still possessed of an almost boyish shyness that would slowly fade over time.

"Why, Steven Grant Rogers," Lucy declared, feigning shock through her smiling affection, "are you suggesting that you'd like me to have my way with you, you darling sexual deviant?" She chuckled, cradling his jaw in her hands as she leaned in to kiss him once again, deliberately keeping the touch soft and surprisingly chaste. "Can you think of anything you'd particularly like to do?"

"Deviant!" he exclaimed, his voice sounding a little too much like Johnny Storm's for a moment. "I'm not a deviant. I just..." He shrugged, that boyish blush creeping into his cheeks again. "I need to make up for lost time is all." It was as good an excuse as any, and at least partly accurate, though in truth, he just wanted to make sweet love to this lovely woman who he was lucky enough to have made his wife. "Make love to you," he replied, kissing her back, though his own kiss was less than chaste.

His kiss cut off the giggles that had arisen at his reaction to being called a deviant. One thing he couldn't be accused of yet was of being overly adventurous, but with Lucy around, it really was only a matter of time. She was determined and, yes, kinky enough to wear him down over the lifetime they intended to spend together. Despite the softening of her body into the lean of his as he kissed her, she managed to draw back just long enough to draw the pad of her thumb over his lips, brushing the tip of her nose to his as she gazed into his eyes with undisguised adoration. "I thought you'd never ask."

He smiled, the boyish charm giving way to the man that knew what he wanted. "I didn't think I had to," he replied, setting the baby romper aside, as cute as it was, and scooping her up in his arms as he moved to his feet, his lips pressed against hers, to effortlessly carry her away to their bed where he intended on giving her the best Christmas gift he could think of - the gift of himself.

((Thank you to Lucy's player for the above scene. Very cute and tons of fun! :grin:))