Believe

Blaine Anderson/Steve Rogers – I know the common way to ship this is Staine but I call it Bleve. Staine is something you want to get rid of. Bleve sounds something that gives you hope.

Note: For my bestie Jenn because she gives me hope. She has faith in me and helps me to believe in myself.

The air was crisp and cold. Leaves crunched under Steve's feet as he made his way through Central Park. The others told him it wasn't safe to walk through here alone at night but then Germany hadn't been safe either and he made it through that. He stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets and shivered as a burst of cold air passed over him. The breeze carried with it a haunting melody that made him stop mid-stride.

"What is that?" he muttered. It was too late for the bars to be open and he was too far from any residences to be hearing a radio. The voice was young and sweet; too young to be alone in the park at night. He shivered again as the breeze picked up and turned to follow the music. He stepped off of the path through an opening in the brush and stopped.

A dark haired teenage boy sat cross legged against a tree strumming a guitar and singing. Steve stood quietly and listened as the words washed over his skin. His heart ached for love lost and the sight of this boy so obviously in pain. His mind wandered as the boy continued to sing.

"Are you just going to stand there?" the boy asked breaking through Steve's thoughts.

"What are you doing here in the bushes?" Steve asked.

The boy smirked. "Hiding from the world. Apparently I'm not doing a very good job."

Steve looked around then back at the boy. "It's a good spot. The singing gave you away."

"Singing makes me feel better."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Wow! If that was a happy song I don't want hear your sad songs."

The boys smirk faded as his eyes dropped to the ground. Steve crouched so he could try to make eye contact.

"Are you okay? Is there someplace you can go? I can give you money if you need it." Steve offered.

The boy shook his head. "I'm okay. I have money for my plane ticket but there are no flights available for a few days. Thanks for the offer."

"What's your name?" Steve asked softly.

"Blaine," the boy answered as he slowly raised his eyes to Steve's.

"I'm Steve. Steve Rogers." He offered his hand. Blaine hesitated momentarily then reached out and shook Steve's hand.

"Blaine Anderson, nice to meet you Mr. Rogers."

Steve chuckled. "I think you can call me Steve.

Blaine smiled. "Thank you Steve."

"Listen, it's not safe out here. Why don't you come home with me? I don't have a lot of room but I have a couch that's better than this dirt patch here. And it's warmer," He added as another breeze cut through the bushes.

"I…" Blaine blinked. "What do you want from me?"

"Want?" Steve repeated. He shook his head. "I don't want anything from you."

It was Blaine's turn to raise an eyebrow. "People don't offer strangers a place to sleep unless they want something."

Steve frowned. "What could you possibly have that I would want?"

"Are you serious?" Blaine laughed.

Steve's frowned deepened.

Blaine swallowed hard and looked uncomfortable. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"I've lived in New York all my life," Steve answered. "Except for when I was in the Army."

Blaine swallowed again. "Listen, I might be from Ohio but even I know that when a man asks another man back to his place it means he wants sex."

"Oh God, no!" Steve blurted. He fell back on his ass then scrambled to his feet. "I'm not… I don't…what the hell?"

"I'm just trying to be real here," Blaine countered. "I'm not trying to offend you."

Steve sucked in a deep breath and slowly let it out. "I forget that the times have changed."

Steve stared at the younger man his thoughts racing. He should just walk away, forget that this ever took place but he wasn't the kind of man who could do that.

"I don't want anything Blaine. I just want to help you. I can't offer you any proof of my intentions I can only ask that you believe in me. I promise. Will you come with me?"