Chris awoke to the sound of Denise throwing up in the bathroom, all the alcohol she consumed the night before was starting to make its way out of her system in the most awful way possible. He grabbed a box of tissues from his bedside table and walked to where she was, kneeling down beside her to grab a handful of her hair. He plopped the tissue box down beside the toilet bowl then gently grabbed another handful of her hair, holding it back as she continued to throw up.

"Get it all out, sweetheart," Chris transferred all of Denise's hair into one hand, using the other to gently rub her back. "Let me guess," he said before she could, "'I'm never drinking again'?" She managed a light laugh and a nod before another load of fluids spewed out of her mouth. "Yeah, we'll see about that. How about you finish throwing up so I can get some food and water into you?"

"I think I'm okay now," she drew back from the toilet bowl and sat on the tiled floor, leaning back against the bathtub when Chris released her hair and got to his feet. He wet a face towel for her while she leaned forward and pulled a few tissues from the box, wiping her mouth and tossing the scrunched up balls of tissues into the toilet bowl. "Why did you let me drink so much?" She asked as Chris wrung the warm face towel in his hand.

"It was your college graduation and you really only get one of those," he shrugged then turned to her, descending to his knees in front of her. "And," he gently wiped her face, "I did try to stop you. You called me a 'party pooper' and I was offended enough to let you make the mistake of drinking yourself blind." She laughed then grimaced at the volume of her own laughter. "That's one experience I'm no longer worried I've stolen from you." She released a softer laugh and he smiled, gently touching her arm. "You're young, you'll recover faster. When I was twenty-two-"

"Ah yes, when was that again? Like a million years ago," she teased him and he rolled his eyes with an involuntary smile. "And I'm not twenty-two yet, thank you very much." Another eye roll as he continued to dab her face. "I turn twenty-two soon, we've got your birthday first. Then Luca's, then Seb's. I'm the last to have a birthday out of the four of us, remember? I'm the baby of the group, the D'Artagnan to Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, the-" She was cut off before she could finish.

"Yeah, you'll definitely recover fast. I mean-" he tried not to laugh as he teased her, "if you can talk as much as you just did then your hangover is not really that bad." His quip earned him a playful on his arm; he bellowed with laughter and she grimaced. "Shit, sorry." He covered his mouth, his loud laughter turned into a soft snicker. "Okay, get up," he got to his feet and helped her to hers. He put the lid down over the toilet bowl and flushed, instructing her to "take off your makeup and have a shower, you'll feel much better after. I'm going to make breakfast while you do that."

"Okay," Denise yawned.

"Okay," Chris chuckled, patting her butt before leaving her to it.

Denise closed the door behind Chris, stripped and stepped into the shower. She turned the water on and waited for it to heat up, shuddering when the cold water splashed on her skin. Eventually when the water warmed, she stepped under it and savored the feeling of the water running down her body. Her memory was foggy, but she was pretty sure Chris woke her up in the middle of the night to tell her he loved her. She had no evidence of such an occurrence, still she found herself smiling anyway. Chris was a romantic, she had evidence of that. She also loved the way he took care of her, so sweet and gentle. It was impossible to have asked for more in a lifelong partner.

When Denise finished her shower, she dried herself off and wrapped the towel around her body. She ran her hand over the fog on the mirror, administering a small space to see herself. She cleansed her face from all the makeup she had on from the day before then admired her bare face, smiling. Before Chris, she didn't feel beautiful without makeup. She knew she was pretty but she didn't feel pretty most of the time. To her, she was average, basic- the kind of girl she believed people wouldn't look at twice unless she really dolled herself up. But Chris? He never made her feel like that, around him she felt as though she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever laid eyes on. Perhaps she was vain but that was a feeling she'd never get sick of.

"No barking, Dodger," Chris instructed Dodger, who barked the second he saw Denise walk into the kitchen. "Our poor girl's got a bit of a hangover," he pouted adorably at her and she tried not to smile as she reached over to scratch Dodger's head. "I got the cure right here," he pointed the spatula over his shoulder, "pancakes and bacon, baby."

"I love pancakes and bacon," Denise stated. An excited growl built in the back of her throat that Chris laughed at. He turned back to the stove as she walked over, hugging him from behind. "Thanks for taking care of me, baby." She kissed his shoulder blade. "You're the best." She rested her cheek against his back, smiling when he rubbed her arm with one hand.

"Nope," he shook his head and she pulled away, raising a brow as she moved into his line of sight. "You're the best after pulling that whole notebook stunt," he told her and she chuckled. "I read it after I put you to bed, and yes," he playfully poked her with the spatula, "this crybaby cried."

"Does this mean you did come and hug me in the middle of the night?" She asked and he nodded, smiling. "I thought it happened but I was pretty drunk so I wasn't sure." He wrapped his arms around her, enfolding her into a tight hug. "Baby," she cooed as she hugged him back, "I love you. And I meant every last word," she began and he loosened his grip so their gazes could meet, "especially the last paragraph."

"I know," he nodded. "And I mean it when I say this, the feeling is mutual. I don't care what I end up doing, or- not doing 'cause nothing I achieve in my field of work will compare to what I've achieved with you. Filmmaking is just a job whereas you are my life," he asserted. "Who cares if I haven't made any Oscar worthy films, who cares if people still call me Captain America? I have you, that's all I need. Everything else is..." He paused and pondered for the right word. "Redundant."

"You know what else is redundant?" She quizzed rhetorically. "Everything you just said about your career." She answered and he smiled, rubbing small circles into her sides. "You are going to do some amazing things, Chris Evans." She asserted with a nod. "Besides me, of course," she teased with a wink and he laughed.

"Of course."

"I love you," she told him and he dipped his head to peck her lips. "Like I seriously, seriously love you," she asserted and saw him nod with a smile. "And we are going to get married," she said when he pulled away. "You know that, right?"

"Yes I do," he chuckled as he turned back to the stove. "I didn't propose to you for nothing, darling."

Denise felt her lips purse because she felt like he wasn't hearing her. She wasn't being silly with her question, she was trying to discuss and apologize for the long engagement as it was technically her call. Chris was ready to get married, he'd been ready for a long time. The man would've married her tomorrow if it were his choice, but it wasn't. She knew she was being unfair but she just wasn't ready, there were too many things she needed to get done first.

"I'm not talking about getting married in general, Chris." She said and he turned to her with furrowed brows. "I was trying to say 'I'm sorry for making you wait, we're going to get married soon.'" His facials softened and he smiled, turning off the stove. "I understand I'm being-"

"Don't," he cut her off with a shake of his head. "I told you I'm okay waiting, that hasn't changed." He said and she huffed. Sometimes she wished he wasn't so accommodating when it came to her, it made it hard for her not to feel guilty when he was so nice about everything. "Sweetheart," he chuckled and cupped her face in his hands. "You do what you need to do, take all the time you need. Marriage or no marriage, I'm not going anywhere."

"I know, but it's not fair that I keep pushing it back."

"You're just pushing it back, you're not running out on me."

"I know, but we said after your Marvel contract ended and my graduation." She reminded him and he gave her his 'what's your point?' face. "So your contract's ended and I've graduated." She stated as a matter-of-fact and he nodded in acknowledgement. "So if that is the original plan, should that not be the one we proceed with?"

"Depends on your answer to my next question," he told her and her facials prompted his question. "Are you ready to get married?" His question was answered when she said nothing. "See," he chuckled, throwing his hands up in the air. "So no, we will not be proceeding with the original plan."

"It's not because of you," she assured him of something he already knew so he could only smile in response. "I just- I don't know, Chris. I'm not ready, there are so many things I want settled before I settle with you. It's not because of you, I'm sure about marrying you. I just don't know when."

"Baby," his smile widened. "You don't need to explain yourself because I know. I know all of that already, I know it's not because of me. I completely understand your want to settle things before you settle with me, I'd want the same thing if I were you. It's okay, honestly," he assured her when she still looked like she was suffering from immense guilt. "Our original original agreement was I'd wait until you did everything you wanted, remember?" She smiled when she realized he was referring to the letter he'd written her, inside he stated he wanted her to pursue her dreams first. "It's okay, I'm capable of waiting. I've waited thirty-eight years, I've got no problem with waiting a little while longer."

"I know, but I don't want you to wait any longer." She continued with her debate. He sighed though he'd already expected it. "You're a veteran of the industry, you know better than me that there is no certainty when it comes to Hollywood. It could take me ten years to find even the slightest success, we can't afford that."

"So what do you want to do?"

"I love you," she repeated for the fourth time that morning. "And I want to marry you and give you the life you deserve. I meant what I wrote, you are what's important to me." She assured him and he smiled, taking her hand in his to give it a light squeeze. "So." She said then paused to think. "End of the year. If nothing happens for me by the end of the year, we'll start planning our wedding."

He should've agreed, his eager heart wanted him to but he couldn't. He had to ask, "are you sure?"

"One hundred percent," she nodded with a smile. "My career can wait whereas this-" she gestured between them as she squeezed his hand. "This can't wait." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "Plus-" she giggled as they pulled away from each other, "I'm young, I've got lots of time. My man's a lot older than I am," she teased and Chris burst into laughter. "I want him to get married and have kids before he turns completely gray."

"Watch it, kid," he warned, playfully swatting her ass as he returned his attention to his pan on the stove. She laughed and sat herself on the island counter, watching him as he made a plate for her. "Here," he held out the plate for her then pulled it away as she reached for it. "Uh uh," he shook his head, "not without a kiss first." He pointed to his cheek and she rolled her eyes, leaning forward. "Ah hah," he turned his head at the last minute, catching her lips instead.

"And I'm the kid," she laughed softly against his lips as she kissed him back. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he lowered the plate onto the wooden surface to place his hands on her waist. He moved in-between her thighs, letting his smile grow wider as they continued to make out on the island counter top. "You know I've still got a hangover, right?" She quizzed when his hands got a little suggestive.

"Mm hm," he pressed his lips against her neck and hummed. "Which means you're in need of a little Vitamin C," he pulled back and winked with a smug smirk. His smirk turned into a eye-reaching smile when she threw her head back, laughing. He swept her off the bench and into his arms, bridal style, causing her to yelp in surprise. "We can have breakfast after, you're more of a breakfast for lunch kinda girl anyway."

"If you say so, Evans," she giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. "After all," she felt a similar smug smirk surface as he carried her towards the stairs, "who am I to argue with the guy who knows me better than I know myself?"