"Blonde roast coffee for Phil!"

Emilia recognized the man and his order. He would visit frequently for a period of time and then it would often be weeks until she saw him again. She pegged him the government type: perpetually dressed in a suit and tie, clean cut, living and working in D.C. It had always surprised her that he was a regular at the small coffeehouse she owned and ran; the other suits always frequented the Starbucks down the street, so she never had a lot of government workers as regulars.

This 'Phil" guy was her favorite regular, though. He always greeted her with a smile and didn't act as though her job as a barista made her beneath him. It almost seemed like he was happy to see her when she handed him his coffee, but she figured a personal favoritism towards her was unlikely given how he smiled at everyone he greeted. It seemed to be in his personality to act warmly and respectfully towards everyone. She found it refreshing; so many of the government men she had met around here were always so stuffy and standoffish.

"Thank you, Emilia," Phil said as he took his coffee from her. She had been surprised the first time he had addressed her by her name, though eventually it dawned on her that she wears a name tag at work. Now it was routine. Once again he smiled at her warmly and she found herself noting that he had kind eyes.

"My pleasure, Phil." It truly was, too. She found herself inwardly annoyed by most of her customers, though she would never admit it. Everyone was just so wrapped up in their phones or too in a rush to be friendly towards her. Her cafe was simply the first stop of their day, a source of caffeine to power their fast-paced lifestyle.

Today Phil came during a lull in business. He was her only customer at the counter, which made her feel awkward. Normally she had someone else's order to attend to after she handed his coffee to him, and she found herself at a loss without the distraction. It seemed weird for her to strike up a conversation with a man she didn't know past his name and order, yet she was hyper-aware of the weight of his gaze. As she pretended to busy herself with inventory she wondered why he hadn't left yet; he usually didn't stay long after getting his coffee and exchanging pleasantries. He was just standing on the other side of the counter casually and looking at the artwork hung on the walls.

"They're works from local artists," Emilia explained, the silence in the air between them driving her a little nuts. "I hang them up and if anyone buys them the artists get the money."

"That's nice," Phil smiled. "Some of these are really great." He walked along the wall, looking at each piece inquisitively. He stopped in front of one in particular and studied it closely. It depicted the silhouette of a woman in a style that looked as though a light was shining on her from behind, illuminating the outline of her face without her features being distinguishable. It gave off emotionally charged undertones, as though the woman was harboring a deep sadness in her heart. "You know, it says this one was done by an 'Emilia Hart.'"

"Yes, I suppose it does."

"Any chance your last name is Hart?" The smirk on his face revealed that he was pretty confident that he already knew the answer to that question. She felt her muscles tense at his deduction.

"It's possible," she mumbled, a blush creeping up on her face. Truth be told, people hardly ever paid attention to the artist's names. That painting had been hanging there for as long as she had owned the place and no one had ever asked her if she had created it. The lack of recognition had been comforting; she didn't like having attention drawn to her any more than necessary. In fact, had it been up to her the painting would never had been put on display. It was a very personal piece that she had painted in a dark time. Her sister Gracie had hung it up and made her promise to keep it there. She never could argue against her.
"It's stunning," Phil said sincerely, much to her surprise. While art was her passion, she never was able to pursue it as a career.

"Thank you." Emilia never handled praise well, but having it directed towards her art made her feel even more uncomfortable. She busied herself with cleaning the counter, unable to watch him look at her work.

"How much?" The words came from his mouth and sent a shock through her system, freezing her in place.

"Pardon?"

"The painting. How much?" She had never put a price to the piece, having never thought anyone would ever actually be interested in purchasing it. Phil looked at her earnestly, his gaze purposeful and unwavering.

"Oh, I…I-I wouldn't…it's…" she stuttered frantically, utterly unsure of what to say. The notion that he wanted her painting was unfathomable to her and the idea of actually selling such a personal piece was terrifying.

"I'll pay you $600." The statement was so finite and official, as if there was no room for questions regarding his decision to buy it.

"Wha…are you…six hundred?" The words tumbled out, the shock evident. She found herself having to put both hands on the counter in front of her, needing to steady herself.

"I can pay more if you'd like." She looked at him as though he had sprouted another head.

"Are you insane? That painting is not worth $600." Phil chuckled at this, clearly undeterred.

"I appreciate art, especially when it is as good as this one. You have a real gift, Emilia." He gave her a small smile, one of those smiles that shines in the eyes and causes the skin next to them to crinkle slightly. He pulled out his checkbook and wrote a check for that amount, grabbing her hand and forcing her to take it. Emilia jumped at the sudden contact, feeling a jolt run through her when his fingertips touched her skin.

"I couldn't possibly…"

"You can and you will. You said it yourself: these paintings are hung by local artists to be bought. I'm simply doing as such." The matter-of-fact way he said this only further dumfounded her. He chuckled at her speechlessness, resorting to walking over to the painting and taking it off the wall himself. "Thank you for the coffee…and the painting."

"Yeah. You're, uh…you're welcome." Before she had a chance to say anything else Phil left the cafe, leaving her shocked and confused.

"So he just bought the painting and walked out?" Her sister Gracie asked as the two sat on Emilia's couch with a glass of wine and Chinese takeout.

"I'm telling you, Gracie, it was the strangest thing. He just gave me the money and took the painting. I don't even know why he wanted it so badly, but he was determined to buy it." The events of today still had Emilia reeling. She hardly knew this man, yet he bought a painting of hers. He now owned a very personal representation of intimate feelings she once had. It scared her to think that her emotions could be hanging up in a virtual strangers home or office, on display for anyone to see. Granted, this had been the case when it was hanging up in her cafe, however this was different. This was someone else's space, for someone else's friends to see. She no longer had the option to take it down, she no longer could hide it away from sight. Maybe it was a good thing she didn't try again to be a professional artist.

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you that you are a terrific artist, Em. I'm only surprised that it took so long for someone to be captivated by that piece. It really is good." Her sisters words didn't make her feel any better. They were laced with more praise, more compliments she didn't feel as though she deserved.

"That may be true but it doesn't explain why he bought it. He doesn't even know me!" That was the especially perplexing part of what happened. He was just someone who came to her cafe frequently for coffee. They exchanged words here and there, but there was no reason for him to buy her painting.

"Generally the idea of showing your work for others to buy includes the assumption that someone you don't know will buy it," Gracie said with a knowing look. Emilia didn't like that look; that look was usually bad news for her. "I think we need to consider that your reaction to this man buying your painting could mean you like him."

"I don't even know him, Gracie, don't be ridiculous." She downed the remaining wine in her glass and poured herself another, clearly not pleased with the direction the conversation had taken.

"He's been coming into the cafe for, what, seven months now? It wouldn't be crazy to think that you could have developed a crush on him."

"A crush? I'm not a teenager, Grace." The notion sounded preposterous, yet Emilia couldn't deny that it was a possibility. She enjoyed when he came to the cafe; she enjoyed their interactions. However she also wasn't one to act on whims or shallow feelings. If her sister was right, nothing would come out of this 'crush.'

"Adolescents aren't the only ones capable of developing…"

"Oh come on, Grace. I don't need you to get into your developmental psychology mumbo-jumbo again." Emilia had heard earfuls from her PhD in Psychology wielding sister on things such as this in the past. As much as she loved her, Grace's tendency to psychoanalyze her drove her nuts.

"Either way, sis, you are crushing on your customer and that's why you hate that he has that painting." Emilia found herself rolling her eyes, annoyed most of all at the fact that her sister was right.

Phil didn't come back to the cafe for three days after the incident with the painting. Much to her dismay, Emilia found herself crestfallen each time a customer came in and wasn't him. She began to think that maybe he wouldn't come back and tried to dismiss her disappointment by burying herself in the busy work she normally delegated to her employees.

"The usual please, Emilia," a familiar voice said unexpectedly on the fourth day post-painting incident. Emilia jumped in surprise, grabbing her chest as her heart beat rapidly.

"Oh, hello Phil. You startled me," she said, smiling hesitantly. The excitement she felt at seeing him there wasn't lost on her,

"Yes, you seemed to be washing that counter quite intently," he teased, causing a deep blush to spread over her cheeks. She wished she could say it wasn't noticeable, but her porcelain skin didn't hide much.

"Just a lot on my mind I guess," she said quietly, busying herself with making his order. Unfortunately for her, his order was a simple one and didn't save her from her embarrassment for long.

"Blonde roast for Phil," she teased, handing him the coffee cup. He took it with a laugh and Emilia couldn't help but notice the fluttering in her stomach she felt. She cursed inwardly, annoyed that her awareness of this crush only made it worse.

"I didn't pay," he replied, a soft smile still gracing his features.

"It's on the house." With a smile she turned to clean the machine she just used, allowing her long brunette curls to curtain over her face and block her growing blush from his view.

"You don't have to do that," he said insistently, trying to give her a 5 dollar bill.

"I know I don't have to. Call it my good deed for the day."

"Well let me make it up to you. There's this small Italian restaurant I know. Do you like Italian?" If possible, her cheeks burned even more and she felt the blush creep down her neck.

"Um, yeah. Italian's, uh, good," she stuttered, thrown off by the turn the conversation took.

"Great. I'll be back here at 8. That's when the cafe closes, right?" Emilia felt her heart stop, unsure if she was imagining this or if it was actually happening.

"Well, I mean, I'm hardly dressed for a nice dinner. And you don't really even know me, I can't imagine why you'd want to take me out for dinner. Besides, the coffee costs, like, 2 dollars. That's hardly worth dinner and…"

"Emilia," he interrupted, firmly but not unkindly. "You're rambling."

"Sorry," she said, sheepishly, looking away and wiping down the machine frantically.

"We can stop by your home so you can change if you'd like," he offered. "I know we don't know each other, but that's what dinner is for. Emilia, I'm asking you out." This caused her to falter; her hand, shaking, dropping the rag she had been using to clean the coffee maker. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish, words failing her.

"O-okay," she managed, head nodding slightly.

"Great. See you later." He smiled at her one last time before turning and walking out. Stunned, Emilia felt a smile creeping onto her face as she found herself looking forward to this dinner more than she had looked forward to anything in a long time.

Sure enough, at exactly 8 o'clock, as Emilia was closing up, Phil walked through the door. He was dressed in a suit as usual, donning a smile and holding a single sunflower in his hand. The sight made her smile and she found herself wondering how he knew that sunflowers were her favorite.

"Hi," she said, her nerves jolting through her veins. She finished turning off all the lights and guided Phil outside so she could lock up.

"This is for you," he said, handing her the flower. Their fingers brushed as she took it and she felt her stomach flip.

"My favorite," she told him, still curious as to why he thought to get a sunflower. The air had recently turned chilly, fall edging closer to winter. Not many people thought of sunflowers this time of year.

"You struck me as a sunflower girl," he explained vaguely. It might've sounded odd to her had she not been so thrown off by the fact that he brought her a flower in the first place. She couldn't remember the last time a guy had gotten her a flower. "Lead the way to your place."

"It's actually just at the end of the block," she explained, looping her arm through his and leading him in the right direction. Just a few minutes later she was leading him up the stairs to her third floor apartment.

Her apartment was modest: as a cafe owner she couldn't quite afford anything extravagant. Through the door they found themselves in her living room, which contained a tan colored couch positioned across from a flat screen television. Straight through the living room was the kitchen, containing the standard kitchen appliances and a breakfast bar. There was a small dining table off the kitchen, though she only ever ate there when her sister came to visit. Generally she would eat on the couch, resorting to using the coffee table for her plates. Her bedroom was the only other room in the place, which had an ensuite bathroom.

"There's beer in the fridge if you'd like a drink. Feel free to sit wherever; I'm just going to go change." He nodded at her, taking in her living space. Specifically, he was observing the various paintings hanging on the walls and piled up on the table. Emilia noticed this and she felt her nerves spike again. She wanted to ask him not to look at them, but she resorted instead to retreating to her bedroom so she could change. The quicker she did so, the quicker they could leave and the sooner he wouldn't be looking at them anymore.

Her long hair was already curled from earlier, so she didn't feel it necessary to try to restyle it. This morning she had put on natural-looking makeup, but she decided to add some more eyeliner and mascara in order to make her green eyes pop. Feeling satisfied, she moved on to the closet and sifted through her clothes, trying to find something nice that wasn't too fancy. She settled on a short-sleeve lacy black dress. It was one of her favorites; the lace was enough to dress it up a bit and the black was slimming. It highlighted her thin, but curvy, figure but was still modest. She paired it with nude heels and grabbed her nicer black purse. When she re-entered the living room she found Phil looking at a painting she had done a few months ago.

"The Battle of New York?" he asked, holding up the painting. "Were you there?"

"I was visiting my parents and we had taken a trip into the city that day," she explained, the horror she had seen flashing through her mind. "It was unlike anything I had ever seen." The painting she had done after she had gotten back was a picture of a blurred monster resembling the Chitauri, with the background made up of heroes and destruction.

"This is really impressive," Phil said, his voice a mix of awe and something else she couldn't quite identify. "Are these the Avengers in the background?"

"Yeah, I saw them gathered together during the midst of the battle. Captain America actually saved me and a group of others from one of the aliens." Talking about it now made her remember the nightmares she endured for weeks after. "Were you in New York too?"

"No," he said quietly, before shaking his head as if he was shaking away memories. "You look beautiful, by the way. Shall we go?" Emilia nodded, relieved the conversation was being dropped, and looped her arm through the one he offered her.

The restaurant he took her to was small in a romantic type of way. Tea lights were strung along the ceiling and looked like stars. The hostess led them to a table in the back and Emilia was surprised by Phil pulling out her chair for her. It was a breath of fresh air, what a gentleman he was. He ordered them a bottle of her favorite red wine, another favorite of hers he somehow knew.

"Should I be concerned that you know these favorites of mine? I mean, first the sunflower and now the wine. I didn't say yes to a date with a stalker, did I?" Her tone was teasing, but she was only half joking. She had this gut feeling she could trust him, but she hardly knew him. She was relieved when he laughed heartily.

"No, I'm not a stalker, Emilia," he said through his chuckling. "Just lucky guesses, I suppose."

"If I had to guess, I'd wager you're government." Phil laughed again.

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you," he winked. Before Emilia had a chance to press, the waiter came with bread and took their orders.

"So you're an artist?" Phil asked, tearing off a piece of bread and eating it.

"Well I wouldn't say artist. I have a fine arts degree and I paint, but I'm not an artist." It was true, she wasn't an artist and honestly she didn't think she had what it takes to be one. The scrutiny and criticism terrified her.

"Well you have an incredible talent." Praise terrified her too. She forced a smile and took a large sip of her wine.

"Why don't you tell me about yourself, Phil. I hardly know anything about you," she said, deciding to change the subject.

"There's not much to tell really," he said, ripping off another piece of bread. "Nothing really that special. I went to Tahiti recently, I think that's the only thing remotely interesting to happen to me recently."

"Tahiti? I've always wanted to go there. What's it like?"

"It's a magical place."

Dinner was really nice, Emilia decided. Phil was sweet and he made her laugh. He was interested in what she had to say. As he was walking her home, her arm looped with his, she realized she felt a nice buzz that warmed her, despite the chill in the air.

"So, why my cafe?" She asked, the wine making her bold. "Why not Starbucks or one of the other chains? That's where most people go."

"I don't like chains much," he explained. "They're too crowded and small places like yours are always so friendly." When he noticed a shiver ripple through her he pulled her closer. "Plus, there's this beautiful woman who works there."

"Oh really?" she giggled. "So you've been going there for months for the ambiance and a woman?"

"Mostly the woman," he admitted, looking at her with a small smile. As they approached the front of her building she turned to face him.

"Why, though? What about me made you come back?" She said softly, not understanding what about her could possibly be that special.

"I don't know exactly what it is, Emilia, but I just can't stay away." The sincerity in his voice and the way he looked at her made her want to abandon her cautions. She could feel her heart being tugged towards him and the fluttering in her stomach intensified. Almost unconsciously she found her hand reaching up to his face, wanting to see how his skin would feel against hers.

The next thing she knew she was leaning in, their height almost equal in her heels. Their breath mingled between them as their eyes remained locked. The intensity of his gaze sent shivers down her spine. Seconds passed like minutes until finally his lips grazed hers lightly. Emilia's breath hitched as his face hovered as close to hers as possible without actually touching. She could feel her heart beating in her ears and she crushed her lips against his.

As they embraced in the chilly air, Emilia knew this was the start of something big.

Hi guys! This if my first Marvel fanfic and I'm really nervous about not doing the franchise justice. I hope you guys enjoy it

Feel free to let me know what you guys think :)