This is my first attempt at a Captain America fanfic so bear with me. I promise it'll get good, I have some big stuff planned, please review and let me know what you think. Also please check out my other stories! Thanks, enjoy!
The Right Partner
Steve Rogers trudged through the darkened Brooklyn neighborhood, trying to get to his apartment, disgruntled by the fact that he barely recognized his surroundings.
For goodness sake this was Brooklyn, his home turf, he should know this place like the back of his hand...and yet he could identify almost nothing.
After spending the day at the S.H.E.I.L.D. head quarters Steve was beat, and coming home to unfamiliar surroundings was not helping. Steve decided he needed a drink, even if he couldn't feel the buzz.
He slowly made his way to his favorite bar, a retro style hole in the wall that Steve bet you could walk right by if you weren't looking. But Steve was looking. Steve was looking at everything; he needed to see, to discover all the things he had missed in nearly 70 years. Jesus, 70 years. Had he really been asleep that long? Everything around him screamed in confirmation.
On the way he noticed multiple convenient stores, a MacDonald's and something called a night club - a loud, dark establishment with scantily clad women and rambunctious men that reeked of alcohol stumbling out of it in steady streams.
Finally Steve reached the bar, feeling a wave of relief flood over him as he stepped inside the dimly lit interior. Nowadays it was the little consistencies, the small day to day regularity that Steve reveled in. He scanned the bar, noting the other 2 occupants - regulars like him, but more importantly noting the pretty spirited young waitress that usually worked the late shift.
He slid into his regular booth, settling into the soft black leather and resting his elbows on the worn dark brown table, trying not to sneak glances at her.
He didn't even know her name but Steve was drawn to her, something about the pretty brunette both comfortably familiar and refreshingly modern.
She was partially turned towards him, flipping through receipts. Her long bronze hair gleaming with golden streaks in the low light, falling in ringlets to the bottom of her shoulder blades, the light bouncing of her long slender legs as she leaned over the bar counter.
She looked over and noticed him, the corners of her mouth turning up into a smile of recognition.
She strode over to him, notepad and pen in tote, a bright smile on her face. "Hey there Frank. What can I get you tonight?"
Steve smiled, she had been calling him Frank ever since the first time he had come in a month ago, and while he didn't quite understand it he liked it. "Just the regular please- oh but instead of a coke I'll take a beer, whatever's on tap is fine."
She smiled and scribbled for a second, "Got it. Burger-well done with a side of fries, extra mayo and a beer" she read his order back to him, pausing slightly and glancing at him when she got to the beer part. "Feeling adventurous?" she playfully questioned.
Steve grinned at ran a hand through his sandy hair, replying "It's been one of those days". She chuckled and gave him an insightful look, her bright green eyes sparkling, as she replied "I'm sorry to say I know the feeling. I'll be right back with your order" she said with a soft smile and walked to the back of the bar, towards the kitchens.
Steve exhaled, releasing a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. It really had been one of those days, when something seemed to be off and nothing seemed to be right.
He chided himself on his inexperience with women…again.
He never seemed to catch a break. First no girls would even look his way, and then when one finally had, duty called and he ended up being encased in ice for 70 years.
Talk about a run of bad luck. For once Steve wanted a normal relationship that doesn't end in a frigid prison.
Unfortunately having a 'normal' relationship meant that he'd have to make the first move, something he had virtually no experience doing.
Just then she walked up with his order, plopping down a hot plate and the mug of beer in front of him, "Here you go Frank. Enjoy"
Say something! Steve thought.
"Thanks" he hesitated before he continued, "Hey, by the way, why do you call me Frank? That's not my name".
She smiled and leaned against the table, "Oh, you know, Frank Sinatra. You kind of have that old-timey feel to you, and you seem like an old soul, so I thought it fit. What's your real name?" she replied.
Steve grinned and stuck out his hand for her to shake "Steve. Steve Rogers". She smiled and slipped her small hand into his large warm one, shaking his hand.
"Steve" she echoed, rolling the syllable off her tongue, "It suits you. Well, better than Frank anyway. I'm Emma" she said, wearing that bright smile that caused her freckled nose to wrinkle slightly and scooting into the seat across from him.
"Nice to meet you Emma. Slow night?" Steve replied glancing around the almost empty bar.
"Yeah. It's been one of those days" Emma replied flashing him a teasing look, "but seriously this place has been dead all month. People just don't wanna come in anymore. I guess the old world has lost its appeal" she said, absently tracing the scarred patterns on the table from years of scorching plates and coaster less drinks with a finger as she spoke.
Steve replied, "Well not to me."
Emma looked up into his eyes, a smile blooming on her lips.
Two hours and three beers later they were still sitting there talking, getting to know each other. Emma suddenly looked up, surprised by the empty restaurant that greeted her. Checking the clock on the wall she suddenly stood, "Oh I didn't realize how late it was, I have to close up!"
Steve stood then too, saying "Oh well, I liked this, I-I mean it was fun. We should do it again sometime", trying not to seem too desperate, but still wanting to see her again.
Emma stopped collecting the dishes off of the table and looked at him; her green eyes flickering to his deep blue ones as she answered, "Yeah. We should" she bit her lip and hesitated before continuing, "Here lend me your phone" she held out her hand.
It took Steve a second to remember what she meant, that small lump of metal called a cell phone that he often saw passerby's busily chatting away on and that he had somewhere on him.
Nick Fury insisted he have it on him at all times in case of an emergency. He patted the pockets of his leather jacket, then his jeans, finally discovering it in his back pocket.
He handed it over to her awkwardly, not quite knowing what to do with it.
Sure he knew he basics, how to turn it on, search through the contacts and make a call, but he wasn't exactly racking up minutes. Honestly, who did he have to call?
Emma smiled and busily typed something, then handed it back to him, his 'cell' now one contact heavier.
For a moment they both stood there, smiling at each other like idiots, then with shy glances and nervous laughs they said goodnight.
As Steve walked home he couldn't help but be happy, even proud. Finally Steve has stepped up and said something, and damnit it had been amazing. In a world where everything felt like it was out of his control it was incredible to have something, no matter how seemingly insignificant, that he could take charge of.
He wanted this, whatever it was, to be done right. Now Steve just had to work up the guts to actually call her. Something told him this was only the beginning.