Prologue: Captain, my Captain

It only seemed like yesterday I met that handsome blond at that little coffee shop. I would never forget a pair of eyes such as the strikingly blue ones he bore. I couldn't forget that forties-fifties hairstyle that was so popular back then, and donned his face so well.

"Steve?!"

His frame reminded me of a boxer, with wide shoulders and a tall, muscular frame. He walked with a certain stride to his step, and talked with a slight accent that came with the territory of Brooklyn, New York. He told me some days, when he did things others couldn't, that he was "Just another boy from Brooklyn".

"Pyrrah?"

He was strong. Powerful. Able to heft up a person like they were a potato sack. Able to crush them like it was no one else's business with both arms, if he wasn't so shy and he actually tried.
His arms had a reach that out-did most of the people in his line of fighters, and his chest was firm and toned, something to keep warm against and feel safe. Steve was a strategist, able to confuse and compromise with no problem, and his height made him an exceptional person for most things—like taking things from people above him, or getting the cake mix from the top shelf that you could never reach.
He was an idol and hero too many in all, a leader with low rank but the military could care less about that. I found out that the man that had fed me secrets and lies was actually the hero of World War Two: Captain America. But in 2011, where we need him most, he's here to stay and fight. Today, he saves us.

"Captain…?" I breathe at the battered and beat-up sight of Steve Rogers, his eyes lagging and shoulders hunched downwards. The police look between us for only a few moments, but then decide to leave us to talk. "Steven, what's going on?"

I could decipher if he was angry, annoyed, or confused as his eyes flickered to mine, his head rolling into the hand that was placed onto his cheek. He didn't shrug me away, but sighed in relief, lips touching my skin.
His lips were silk as they were pursed, eyes sliding closed and furrowing in a form of annoyance. Soon, he forced himself to reality to stare down upon me with slight signs of concern and fear.

"You smell like your shop," he stated. He looked to be trying to ease himself to the fact that I was really there and in the flesh. "You… were cooking." It's not a question, but more of a fact or statement that I had been cooking. The flour on my hands and face seemed to be answer enough as he glanced down to me again, taking my hands and smelling them. "… B-Banana Nut Bread?"

"… Yeah." It's a strained smile that I give to him, the situation like sparks of electricity, ready to light a hidden fuse. "I… I was making some." Steve adores the Banana Nut Bread, even if he seems embarrassed about eating it, he'd devour some any day. "For when you win."

His face falls. "We could lose. Horribly." Steve tells me.

"Can't be that bad," I reply.

Steve levels me with a stare. "Were being invaded by Loki: God of Mischief, and his alien army called the Chitauri," my face doesn't give him a reaction as he pauses. "From Outer Space."

"Steven," I say through forced enthusiasm, my stomach clenching uncomfortably at what's to come. "You'll win," I propose, knowing when he did… I would be here, waiting for him.

He gives me a strained grin, his eyes wrinkling at the corners. "Thanks," he says to me.

I smile.

"Captain, we could use you about now!"

The voice is young, another fighter for the cause of living, just like Steve. Steve lifts a hand to the piece on his ear, a new set determination on his tired face, pressing a finger to the piece on his ear.
I glance to the Vibranium Shield that Steve has, latched onto his left arm that was clenched at his side. It had white, and red stripes, a silver star in the middle of it cocooned by one blue stripe. It bore new scratches across the paint. It would have to get a new coat. It has a sort of unique beauty to it, but not the kind of beauty others would find appealing. It's sort of… mysterious.

"On my way." Steve looks down on me again as I move my head up to glimpse his strikingly beautiful eyes. I pat his cheek as his arm drops, tugging down the front of the spandex suit to press a kiss to the top of his nose.

"Be safe, Captain, my Captain." I told him as he pulled away to move on to the fighting once more. "And I… I'm sorry for… ignoring you. I just wish you had told me you were Captain America."

"… It's understandable…" Steve murmured, and glanced to me with a broken-like smile. "I should have."

"No. I should have understood." I demanded firmly, grinding my teeth in my self-idiocy. "We've only known each other for a three months, at most. I should… I should've been more understandable, towards you… I'm an idiot."

"…" Steve only smiled as he faced the battle again. "I expect to see Banana Nut Bread when we supposedly win."

"Rogers that."

Steve shot me a look as he bid farewell.

"Oi, twit."

I glanced to my sister, Mercedes, who had been trapped in the building with me when the… the Chitauri attacked. Her bright blue eyes only glanced at what was still retreating Steve, and jiggled the object in her hands about as she stood in front of me. I glanced down.
It was Steve's Head covering, added to the tough material were the smears of dirt and blood that crested it. I held the memento to my chest, and nodded to my younger sibling.

"… Let's get the fuck outta here, Merci." I began, and my younger sister nodded in understanding.

"Agreed."

Only thinking to where I had met Steve almost three months ago, I think we've made friendly progress since the time he's disappeared and returned. Okay, so figuring out that Steve was Captain America was like a bitch-slap to the face, but I understand why he'd keep that from me.

Oh Steve, I remember how naïve you seemed to be back then, like… ninety days ago.