AN:/ Guys I'm so stuck. I feel like I have this idea, and I'm just changing the OCs that the idea partially revolves around. Let's try this again, hmm...? Please review, I need help...

Forever Yours

"There is no way of telling what may yet become part of history." -Friedrich Nietzsche

Alaina Foster POV:

I tend to like food a lot more than I like most people. Does food backstab you? Well, maybe a little bit when it hits your thighs, but not really. Does food use you? No, no it doesn't. When I was a kid, and I was on the chubby side, I made a little rhyme:

"I'm fat 'cause of fries, I can't tell a lie, they call me thunder thighs!" I felt oddly satisfied. But I evened out, and learned control. People stopped calling me Mickey D, and Fat-ass, and similar nicknames. I graduated, towards the top of the class, went to college, and moved to New York. I had grown up in Colorado, so New York was a big leap. Big city, new people, fast streets, and food-I had to watch myself, or I was going to turn into a butterball again.
Maude waved to me as I set down the tip on the table and left the coffee shop. Every day, coffee with sugar and a blueberry muffin. I was quite repetitious, actually. It was sad, in a way. I pulled out my smartphone, to text my mom back home, and ran into a brick of flesh in a nice suit.

"Oh, I'm sorry sir." I skirted around him, trying to get through the door. Two other men came and picked me up by my arms. "Hey! Where are you taking me!" I kicked and thrashed , slapping the men several times blindly. They remained as stoic and robotic as ever. Another, much smaller man, walked in front of us. Well, not exactly walking. I was being half dragged, half carried out of the building into a black sedan with tinted windows. The two men tossed me in roughly, and I got a good look at their faces. They were almost identical. The other man, the smaller one, sat next to me in the backseat as the meat-bricks moved to the front.

"Agent Phil Coulson, Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division, or SHIELD. I'm so sorry we had to take you by force, Miss Lester, but we weren't sure you would cooperate. " I started breathing faster. No, no, no, panic attack. I couldn't, not here, not ever. Agent Coulson took one look at me and jabbed a syringe into my arm, pressing down on the plunger.

"Hey!" I yelped, but whatever it was worked. My heart rate slowed, that buzzing at the back of my brain faded, I stopped shivering, and I could breathe normally again.

"We have a...special task for you. Probably the single most important thing in the world as of today, in fact.

I looked down at the comatose Captain America. He had a sweet face, but I'm pretty sure you could only tell when he was asleep. I sat on the side of the bed, brushing his hair off of his face.

"Hey, Captain. How y'doing?" I murmured softly, looking into his face. "When are y'going to wake up? You'll sure as hell be surprised..."

AN:/ Sorry this is so short, you know how I am. When I start out, I'm short. The further I get, the longer I get. Well, I just realized how sexual that sounds, and for once it wasn't even intended. Anyway, please review!