Wednesday. The day you live for. Because, after all, it's new comic book day!

You head to your favorite comic store, a hole in the wall in the middle of the busy city. Inside, though dark and a little crammed, the store feels like a respite from the rest of the world. As you quietly browse the shelves of new single issues, bobbing your head to the quiet (but well chosen) music, you see a hand reach for a title you've read before.

"Oh," you say, completely without thinking. "You don't want to read that." It's a more recent Alan Moore title. You're not a big fan of Alan Moore to begin with, but his recent stuff has been absolutely atrocious. This title in particular, it's based off of some screenplay he wrote two decades ago; the writing is choppy, and the art is even worse. "If you have to read an Alan Moore title, try Watchmen or Promethea, maybe."

You blush at the realization of what you said and look up the arm to see a man nodding thoughtfully. Even behind the thick black frames of his glasses, he's stunningly handsome. A warm, squared, classically good-looking face with a chiseled jawline. Striking blue eyes stare at you between the streaks of light on his lenses.

"Oh god sorry, ignore me." You say, having trouble maintaining eye contact with his piercing, inquisitive stare.

"No, no, I..." he smiles; it quakes one end of his lips up first, the other end crawling after to catch up until your assaulting with a nice set of teeth (who's ever even said that in real life?, you think bashfully to yourself). "A friend told me I should look into Alan Moore. For comic book education. Why should I not read this?" He asks, and it's not a mean or pointed question, like a lot of guys in comic shops who accuse you of being a 'fake nerd girl' or some such bull crap; it's a question of pure curiosity.

"It's just a mess." You explain sheepishly. "The writing is sloppy and going for shock factor, but the 'shocking' topics are just dated." He nods, listening intently and he pulls from his coat pocket a small black notebook, leafing through pages till he finds the one he's looking for. He produces a pencil from the rings of a sketchbook that you didn't notice was tucked under his arm. "The art doesn't help the realizations at all. It's too scratchy, to hard to interpret if a character is attractive, what their gender is, and those are key parts of the storyline. Plus the gutters are a mess."

"Ah," he nods, "the white space between panels, right?"

You nod, enthused. "See, Watchmen played with gutters in a really unique way, so you can understand why this is such a disappointment."

He nods, and you seem him pencil down 'WATCHMEN' carefully in his notebook. "Thank you. Ah-" he seems at a loss. "I'm sorry, I don't think you mentioned your name?"

You blush madly and introduce yourself. He shakes your hand, a warm, firm grip, and grins those big teeth at you. "Thank you! And, nice to meet you. I'm...uh..." he pauses "Steve." He says his name quietly, like he's confiding to you a great secret.

You smile and nod, collecting your comics in your arms. Not quite wanting the conversation to end, you awkwardly continue, "are you an artist?" You nod to the sketchbook, protectively tucked under his very muscular arm.

His cheeks tinge just slightly. "Cartoonist, actually. Er, was. I'm not so sure now."

You smile, "why's that?"

"I'm not sure my stuff is modern enough...that part of why I'm looking for...a comic book education." He smiles a weaker grin.

"Well, if you want any suggestions, I'm your girl."

He beams like a child, all innocence and excitement. "You think I could pick your brain? Over coffee, my treat, since you saved me from reading a not-so-good book."

You try to calm yourself. This is pretty unbelievable. "Sure, Steve, that sounds great."

He follows you to the register, buying himself a copy of Watchmen, and noting carefully each title you buy. A classic run of Wonder Woman you picked up in trade piques his interest particularly.

"I remember this!"

You smile, thinking that was a bit of a weird thing to say, but shrug it off. "Yeah, it's some pretty revolutionary stuff. One of the first female superheroes, made by the guy who also created the lie detector and was in a polyamourous relationship."

Steve turns beet red at this. "Really? Even...back then?" You nod sagely. "Wow, I never knew!"

hr

At the coffee shop, you discuss more comics, but eventually fall into tangents: music, movies, tv, books, magazines. He seems lost in a sea of pop culture, and admits to only having seen the original Star Wars trilogy a few weeks ago. You smile at this, and tell him it's fine, that everyone has their own pace. No shame.

Every once in a while he awkwardly, conspicuously adjusts his Yankees baseball cap, like he's trying to hide himself. It becomes an endearing impulse, and as you sip your drinks, you both reach for the muffin you were sharing. Your fingertips brush, and Steve blushes brightly, probably more brightly than you. You try to break the awkward moment.

"What kind of cartooning do you do?"

"Ah, hm," he pauses, munching to fill up the silence. "Political. Though they're not of much relevance now."

You nod. "Politics change so quickly, but..."

"Some of the themes never change." He finishes your sentence with a quick smile. You laugh and nod, while he continues, "I'm trying to do life drawing now. I...I think I want to try my hand at superheroes."

"Now that," you exclaim. "I super relevant. Where you hear during the whole...?" You trail off, not sure what to call it. Battle of New York? Destruction of the city?

He nods, looking down like he's ashamed.

"It was scary, wasn't it?" You put your hand on his comfortingly. "My apartment is over in Hell's Kitchen, so I was out of the crossfire, but ever since...with the Devil and whatnot, things seem to be getting a whole lot stranger."

He nods again, still silent.

You finally break his silence. "Have you started life drawing?"

He finally smiles, sheepishly. "I'm, uh, looking for the right model." You need, and his smile gains wattage. "I mean, would you...I don't mean to impose, but would you mind if I sketched you?"

You grin. "Don't go all Titanic on me." His face turns into a question mark at that reference. You shake your head and smile on. "Don't worry about it. I mean...sure. Here?"
He nods. "Just your face." He blushes again. "You have great features. Really interesting planes."

You laugh. "Ok, flatterer. Just sit still?"

He nods. "You don't have to smile or anything. Just be you." You smile at him before he pulls out his sketchbook and pencil. Your face falls into its resting position, and Steve deftly sketches. His lines are heavy and confident at first, but soon soften to gentle details, things you've never even noticed about yourself.

After about 15 minutes of sketching, Steve modestly presents his sketchbook to you. The picture is beautiful, it looks like you, but not like the you you often see in the mirror-it's drawn without your eye that is so critical of the rest of you.

"Wow, is that really what I look like?"

Steve nods, smiling bashfully. "To me, at least."

You smile, so flattered by this handsome hulking man, who is so sheepish and gentle in personality. "I love it!"

He pauses. "I, ah, you're welcome to keep it...but only if I could draw you again sometime."

You feel your face flush. "I'd be happy to have you draw me again," you rise and move to his side of the table, "but you should keep this one." You lean down, and give him a peck on his clean shaven cheek. It's warm, and he smells like cedar and clean cotton.

He reddens again. "Thanks. I...how about tomorrow?"

"Your place?" You offer, a little forwardly.

Steve smiles back, a little shyly. "My place." He confirms.

Little did you know, you had a date with Captain America.