Author's Note: When I first started writing this story it was post first Avengers movie but pre Agents of SHIELD (and definitely pre "Fall" of SHIELD). So that I believed (but we didn't yet know for sure) that Coulson wasn't dead. So now playing on that concept and the one where none of the Avengers know of his being alive (yet). I plan to write with the idea that Romanov and Barton know of Agent Coulson being alive but are 'sworn to secrecy' from the rest of the Avengers, seeing as they are higher lever agents of shield. Also please note that the events of Agents of SHIELD don't take place until at least the Fall of 2013 and the one year anniversary would have been May 4 2013 (the attack itself in 2012). These dates come from the Marvel Wiki page (which is probably unofficial but I am using it for my own reference). If there is any confusion of this in the story please PM me with concerns.
Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel nor the Avengers.
Angela had just finished unloading the last of her boxes from her car into her new apartment. There was a knock on the door.
"Come in!" she called out. "Its open." She knew it was her landlady. No one else knew she had moved to this part of New York City.
Mrs. Jones was a short, middle aged woman, with greying brown hair that was pulled back in a messy bun. Angela had instantly liked her when they had spoken over the phone and had physically met for the first time about an hour and a half ago. Mrs. Jones had a very charming personality and had been very kind over the phone.
"Here you go, dear, " Mrs. Jones said apologetically. She handed a key to Angela. "Sorry, about the mix up but the plumber and the electrician came today so it has been crazy."
"That's ok, at least the elevator is working now and I didn't have to climb to the fifth floor," Angela joked.
"Well, if you need anything else just let me or my husband know. We are usually always located on the first floor. And you have the number if you need to call?"
"Yes," Angela said while nodding. She picked up the piece of paper that had the number on it.
"Good," Mrs. Jones looked around the room and then having nothing else to say she said goodbye and left.
Angela locked the door behind her. No need leaving it open. She turned around and looked around the room. The exposed brick on the walls with it newly lain wooden floor had a very artistic old feel to it. Dark wooden beams were exposed just below the high, white ceiling. She could probably climb up there if she wanted to. There was a small bathroom and closet in the hallway between the main door and the living room. A coat stand stood near the door.
The living room was large and spacious. Two sets windows lined the fall way giving her a view of the street below and Central Park. A dark leather couch sat in the middle of the room facing a large screen TV. An old wooden coffee table sat on a white rug in front of the couch. A stereo system sat in the corner of the room.
Angela had paid extra for the furnishings but in the end it was worth it. She walked into the kitchen area. Lights, with steel gray shades, hung from the ceiling over the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. The cabinets were white with dark grey handles. There was a large refrigerator and freezer. Angela wondered how she would manage to fill it.
Angela walked into the bedroom just off of the living room. It had a small closet and a bathroom. A bed was in the middle of the room, with white pillows and comforter. There was a wardrobe that held a second TV across from the bed. Large wooden framed windows ran along one wall.
Angela was reminded again how lucky she was to find such a nice apartment in the middle of Upper East Side in New York City for so cheap a price. Angela suppressed a sigh reminding herself why she had to have this apartment in the first place. She didn't want to bring up the memories.
Hooking up her IPod to the sound system and finding her favorite playlist, she hit play and began to unpack boxes. She pulled her long, reddish-brown hair into a ponytail.
Everything she had taken to her college apartment was here. She started with the box she had for the bathroom.
She unpacked the shampoo and conditioner, the assorted hair products, soap for the sink, and other such things. Soon she made her way into the bedroom.
There was a knock at the door. She muted the music with the remote. She opened it to find a woman in her mid forties with short blonde hair.
"Hi, I am Lisa Davidson. My husband, Robert, and I live downstairs to you," she said brightly.
"Is the music too loud?" Angela asked, confused to why Mrs. Davidson was here.
"No, we can't hear it at all. The floors and ceilings are thick; it's the other apartments on this floor that you have to worry about. The walls aren't as thick. You are lucky though. It's only you and the man who lives across the hall, but nobody ever sees him."
Angela got the feeling that Lisa was a noisy neighbor who loved to gossip about other tenants. Why else would she know that the man who didn't live on her floor was never here?
"How come no one else lives on this floor?" Angela asked.
"They all moved out, because of the attack. The major part was right outside our door." Lisa said wide-eyed.
"Oh how horrible." Angela knew for a fact that the invasion was two miles south from here. She did do her homework after all.
"Oh, here, I brought you a plate of cookies." Lisa handed her a paper plate with chocolate chip cookies.
"Thanks," Angela said as she took the plate. "I would invite you in but the apartment is still a mess. I am still unpacking."
"That's ok, I should get going anyway." Lisa left before Angela could say bye. Angela closed the door and turned into the kitchen. She put the plate down on the counter and turned her music back on.
Soon she was finished in the bedroom and moved to the kitchen.
Putting away plates, bowls and a few pieces of silverware, Angela started singing along with the music. She was putting away her favorite mug, when there was a knock on the door. She paused the music again.
Going over, she opened the door to find a man not much older than herself holding a black bag over one shoulder. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. He was rubbing forehead, trying to stay awake. Unknown to Angela, as soon as she had opened the door, he had been paying attention to his surroundings, although his posture did not have necessarily show it. He was tall, dressed in dark cargo pants, a purple shirt so dark it almost looked black, with a black coat on top. Angela noticed the way the coat collar was turned up.
"Hi," he said smirking. "I just got back from a- umm- a business trip. The flight was over eleven hours and I haven't slept. I normally wouldn't ask this because normally I wouldn't care and because normally I am not here, but do you mind turning the music down. I only have twelve hours before I have to report back- well before I have another business trip."
"Oh, sure," she said caught off guard. "Yeah, I can turn it down."
"Thanks." He started to turn around.
"My name's Angela, by the way." She said forgetting to introduce herself.
He opened his mouth, only to close it again. A few seconds later he answered her.
"My name is Tom," he said unsurely.
"Well, it was nice to meet you," she said trying NOT to sound like a school girl, but most likely failing miserably.
"Same," he said simply.
Angela closed the door as he turned around and entered his own apartment.
