Title: how do i feel?
Fandom: Wonder Woman 1984.
Characters: Diana/Steve.
Prompt: Spy.
Rating: PG-13.
Length: 570.
Content warnings: Spoilers for Wonder Woman 1984. (Most of it is in the trailers.)
Author’s notes: Title is from New Order’s "Blue Monday."
Summary: He feels and sounds like home.


"You know, the whole golden armour is kind of hot."

Diana’s face blushes hotly. Crossing her arms against her chest (an easier feat than believed), she purses her lips and looks at Steve pointedly. She stands in the armour of Themyscira’s greatest warrior in her sparse apartment, practicing moving within it as if she requires the training. His eyes never pulled away from hers, not from her naked body and most certainly not from her armoured one.

She narrows her eyes at him. "You’re not funny."

"Oh, no," he says, raising his hands up. "I’m not trying to be. I’m being serious." His blue eyes widen as he looks her up and down, the golden armour of Asteria summoning the golden flecks in his baby blues to come forward.

He feels and looks and sounds like home. While he may not have the sharp wit of an Amazon nor the knowledge of one, the way he looks at her in absolute awe feels familiar—the kind of familiar that she’s missed for so long. Looking at his blue eyes is like looking out at the blue waters of Themyscira, the sun’s golden glow brightening up the shimmery surface.

"Di?"

She blinks, arms still crossed as she spots the arch of his brow and the curious and amused upward curve to his lips. Drowning in her own thoughts has become all too common with him with her now. All she wants to do is surface them and remain bobbing above the water, alert and aware and able to take in everything and anything that the does.

Her open windows merely allow the midday sun to illuminate him in her apartment. Steve is real. Steve is here. Steve is hers to have and to hold and to tease.

When she smiles, his eyes narrow in suspicion.

"I was just getting lost in your eyes."

Steve blushes, shaking his head. "Stop it." Lifting his hand, he holds it up as if the calloused palm can keep her away.

"Why?" As she takes a step forward, he takes one back; a consequence for her greed. "Why can I not admit the truth?"

"Because it’s not the truth," he says, pointing his finger up in warning. But she’s not afraid of his finger. She’s not afraid when it comes to him anymore. "Because I said so, Diana."

"And I say I am allowed to get lost in your eyes?" she says. She continues to approach him, her stance lacking anything like that of a predator. He steps back like prey but she approaches like a woman who has missed the man wearing loose pyjama pants and nothing else. "They are such a pretty blue. So easy to dive into and become lost within the sea of them."

With one long step, she’s in front of him, hands shackling his as she childishly pulls his arms down. She stands before him, golden and armoured, and he stands before her bare-skinned and alive.

He laughs lightly, peering up at her. "You missed your calling as a poet."

Pressing her metallic chest against his, her hands slide up his arms and to the back of his neck, and hovers her mouth against his. "I’ll tell you another poem."

"Yeah?" he says quietly.

"Shut up." She presses her mouth against his as he laughs, feeling the warmth of his lips and his amusement burn her from the outside in.