A/N: thanks for reading/following! seeing the notifications really made my day. I know this chapter doesn't have a lot of action, but it's all leading somewhere!
leave a review, pretty please!
disclaimer: I do not own Captain America, the comics, the movies, none of it.
"So, you're Captain America, huh?"
When he became Captain America the world was embroiled in the biggest fight of its existence. Steve may have made headlines and been in newsreels, but he did in all from the front lines; he never saw the public's reactions to all of it. Seventy years later, everyone knows who he is and has grown up hearing stories of his exploits. Men like Coulson idolized him, others hated him, but everyone knew of him, and everyone had an opinion. This is why meeting new people is so hard, he thinks; they meet Steve, but they already think they know Captain America.
Well, Steve has spent at least the last five minutes enjoying himself. The universe must have decided that's his limit for the day. Sigh. Dammit. It is safe to say that the pit has dropped out of his stomach. He sits still for a moment, unable to look away from The Girl, and he has no freaking idea what to say. The Girl isn't laughing, isn't accusing, but is waiting patiently for him to answer.
After a moment he shifts, runs his hands over his face, laughs a little, and flops down onto the grass on his back. "See, this is why I never socialize." He smiles faintly, head turning toward The Girl, who smiles down upon him. "Can I ask..."
"What gave it away, so to speak?" She pipes in, affecting a faux- thoughtful look, hand on chin and eyes in the air. "Super muscle-y, athletic guy, who runs through the park at quite the clip, in the military but it's shady; all of that is one big clue. But honestly you gave me a sketchbook to look at with pictures of this chick with a '40s hairdo, same with the dudes...actually, all of these drawings have the old timey feel. Put it all together..." she has leaned back, contemplating the sky as she speaks. Steve takes the opportunity to glance at the smooth expanse of throat this pose shows off to him. Then he looks away, because he is emphatically not putting the search for Bucky on hold for the afternoon because this girl is pretty. It totally isn't about that. To his surprise, it really isn't about her beauty right now, but about what she says next.
She glances back down at him and he realizes that she's probably expecting him to speak. "Good to know. Consider the mental note made: 'never show drawings to anyone ever again'." His tone is joking, but his words are actually pretty serious.
She laughs lightly, head resting on knee and fingers ghosting over those soft pink lips, before turning back to his drawings. "Okay, then. You're Captain America, etcetera etcetera, can we talk about what's in here?"
Good Lord. This girl is something else. Maybe Bucky wouldn't mind being put on the back burner for a girl who cares way more about his art than the fact that he's Captain America. Now, though, he's a little more nervous about what she has to say. He squirms uncomfortably. When it comes down to it, everyone has an opinion about his work; so few know him well enough to say anything about his private life.
Steve sits up, takes the opportunity to scoot a little closer to The Girl so they can both see what they're talking about. "Please, go ahead." He is nothing if not polite, especially when it helps him fake the calm he doesn't feel.
Her chocolate curls swaying forward, The Girl flips through the book with slender, delicate fingers. "To start, you have really good technique. I think you have better technique than I do. I'm jealous." She turns to look up at him, smiling, and he realizes just how close their faces are. It would be so easy to just lean down... but of course she is still focused. On his art, which is awesome. Focus, Steve.
"That being said, what are you trying to say here? What's the purpose of the art? A lot of your work feels conflicted, and some of it..." she flips through the pages to find one in particular "look at this one. It's like you started out strong, and then you weren't sure where to go. I can see exactly where your mind started to wander, where you stopped wanting to draw this guy. I'm assuming that these are friends of yours from the war, and I don't want to be disrespectful, but..." she stops to think. Steve is held rapt by her words. "...it's like you think you should be drawing them, to remember them or honor them or whatever, but then you get going and you lose whatever inspired you to start in the first place. Does that make sense?" She turns to look at him.
The super soldier looks back at her, trying to figure out what the hell you say when someone breaks down the whole of your life, your state of mind, into a handful of words. The mystery that is The Girl deepens, drawing him ever further into its depths. The longer he stays still, bright blue eyes wide open, soft lips parted, waiting to receive words from his stuttering brain, the more nervous she gets. Finally, she speaks. "Shit. Shit! I'm sorry, Muscles. I mean Steve! Wow, I'm an asshole to say all of that to you. I stand by it, don't get me wrong, but that was probably pretty harsh." A tiny hand is on his shoulder, and he wants to keep it there forever, basking in the small warmth.
She isn't going to stop herself anytime soon, so Steve speaks over her, shaking his head and laying a hand over the one that rests on his shoulder. Her skin is soft. "No. No, its okay, really. No, I think I really needed to hear all of that. It just took me by surprise. I mean, do you always expose people's inner turmoil within a day of meeting them? Or am I special?" He is smiling, now, and he sees that she is blushing just a little.
"Oh, y'know, when you spend all your time watching people, you tend to pick stuff up." She jokes, still blushing. "I've spent a lot of time watching a lot of different people all over the place."
"Hmm. Well, now that you've figured out, in ten minutes, my secret identity and the existential reasoning for why my drawings aren't all they can be, how do you feel about sharing yours? Drawings, that is. You did promise." He comes as close to purposefully flirting with her as it is possible for Steven Rogers.
She has been rummaging through her bag as he talks (he does not try to peek at what is inside, because he was raised a gentleman, even though it is an enormous temptation to see what is in there), and she has a drawing pad in hand. She makes as if to hand it to him, then pulls it back with a smile. Steve plays along, pretending that he couldn't have caught it anyway.
"Actually, I'm only gonna let you see one picture today. You've got to earn more, so no peeking!" She flips to the last filled page with one hand as she runs her fingers through her curls with the other, eyes trying to be stern but dancing merrily instead. "This is what I'm working on right now."
Steve takes the pad from her carefully, eyes shifting from her face to the page. He sees a style similar to the graffiti he saw that night, clean lines and realism. Though it is far from finished, he can clearly see the image of a young man breastfeeding a baby.
He takes a minute to look, really look at what she has put time and effort into, and finally looks up at her, shifting to face her. This is his chance to find out some of the 'why's' that have been plaguing him.
"Will you tell me about this? Tell me everything. I don't understand why you drew this, and I want to."
So they spend the sunny late spring morning talking, and Steve gets a crash course in gender identity and modern society. All of this is completely new to Steve, but The Girl doesn't laugh or judge his questions, instead answering him as truthfully as she can, and with such passion that he can't help but feel it too. He is so far out of his element, but she is open and honest, gesturing emphatically with her hands or running them through her curls, leaning into him at times; he is captivated by her speech, and even more so by her ideas.
After a while he looks back at the sketch.
"How do I get to see more of what's in here?"
She grins as she takes the pad back. "Two ways." She looks to make sure he is listening. He raises his eyebrows to show he is. "One: you have to draw something good. And by good I mean something meaningful, that you want to draw, even if you don't know why. It cannot be a 'supposed to' drawing." At his laugh, she rolls those deep brown eyes and smiles for a moment. "You know what I mean! We don't make art because we are supposed to. None of that is welcome here." She speaks these last words with such passion that Steve wishes he could keep them forever.
"Okay, okay, I get it. Steve must create meaningful art. What's number two?"
"Two is you help me spray paint this on a wall somewhere." She waves the pad. As he immediately starts sputtering, she shouts, waving the pad more emphatically. "C'mon, Steve! This is art! It's all about taking risks! You know you want to. Plus, I could use a helper who can run really fast" she jokes. "Whaddya say?" She jokingly tries to make puppy eyes, but the expression on her face is arrestingly beautiful.
Steve smiles, tilts his head back, eyes closed. He stays like that for a moment, then shakes his head, still smiling. "I don't know... you're still working on that one, right?" She nods. "How about I work on drawing something good, to start, and when you're ready to put that up you let me know. You're crazy, you know that?"
She nods again, laughing. "I definitely know that. But you're crazy for wanting to talk to me! Don't think I didn't see you, looking at me from the bench, too shy to come up and talk." She leans towards him, definitely flirting this time. He flushes at the mention of his (not stalker-ish) watching of her. "Actually, I take that back. You need more crazy in your life." He shakes his head.
"If you knew what crazy stuff I've dealt with, you wouldn't say that. I got shot by my best friend not that long ago."
She raises her eyebrows. "Point. Then let's say... less crazy in your work life, more fun in your personal. Sound good?" The way she bites her lip as she banters with him will haunt his dreams tonight for sure.
He laughs. "Here's to wishful thinking." For a moment they are silent, and he realizes that they've been talking for hours. He stands, stretches. "I've got to get going." What to say next? He wants to see her again, but isn't sure how to ask. The fact that he didn't confirm whether or not she is homeless does not simplify matters. To his relief, as he's debating internally, she steps in.
"Well, maybe I'll see you tomorrow then? You can tell me if you made any progress drawing and I'll continue to tempt you to break the law" she winks.
"Sounds like a plan. See you tomorrow." He has gathered his sketchbooks, saluted her with them, and walked away before he can turn this goodbye into something awkward. Heading home, he jogs lightly, smiling and bouncing his way home. He already has an idea for what he's going to draw tonight.
The next morning he calls Sam up on the phone, because modern technology is not hard to figure out. Why does everyone think he's against progress?
"Sam. How are you? I need a bit of advice. Do me a favor and don't make me regret asking you."
"Steve, buddy! What's up? You know I've always got time to help you out. Please tell me this is about your little love affair. How did the date go?"
Steve huffs out a sigh. "You see, this is exactly what I'm talking about. Yesterday was not a date. I, unlike some people, am a gentlemen, and trust me, meeting at the park is not a date. It is about The Girl, though." Here he pauses. It's times like these when he misses Bucky most. Bucky would have been right in the thick of things, and Steve aches thinking about it. Sam is a good friend, but this is Bucky's territory. It feels wrong to go to someone else, knowing that Bucky is out there right now, doing God knows what.
"Sam, this girl is amazing. I had a great time, we talked about art and other things for hours. I didn't feel awkward at all. But the way we left things yesterday was that we would see each other today like normal, and I don't know proper etiquette anymore. It feels wrong to stop by expecting for a repeat of yesterday, and it feels weird to jog by with you, to stop and chat for a bit. Will she be expecting me to ask her on a date? Am I taking up too much of her time?" Steve apparently needs to finally give in and watch some television, so he can see some examples of how people interact who aren't government agents.
"Oh, Steve, I've got you covered. Don't you worry, your wingman has got your back!" Steve can easily picture the expressions and gestures that go along with Sam's words. "Here's what's going to happen; we are going to go running to the park at our new time. You're going to stop by and say hi, and I will say hi, and I will leave you two to talk. You focus on getting to know her better, and forget about everything else. If after a few minutes it looks like I'm gonna finish the run on my own, well then that's what I'm gonna do. Don't worry about it. Whaddya think, Cap? Sound good?"
Steve calms, knowing that Sam's idea is the easiest option. For some reason, though, there's something that still doesn't feel right about all of this. What is it that feels so strange?
"Steve? You there, man?"
His attention snaps back to the call. "Sorry, Sam. I got a little distracted. Your plan sounds great."
Apparently his response is a little lackluster because Sam's quickly questioning him as to whether or not he's okay.
All of a sudden, Steve realizes that he is really not okay at all. "Not really, Sam, I'm not. Just…" he pauses and runs his fingers through his hair as he attempts to put his thoughts into words. "I just don't know how I got here. I like this girl, and I have had more fun with her in the last couple of days than I have since I realized Bucky is still alive - no offense - but what the heck am I doing? I don't remember deciding to have a normal life, I feel like I fell into it all, and now I'm stepping back and wondering whether this is all such a good idea." He feels like these last few days he has been more exposed and vulnerable than he has since he woke up.
"Oh, Steve, my friend. Let me start by saying that you will never, ever have a normal life. It's just not going to happen. You are extraordinary, whether you're working for SHIELD or fighting Nazis or doing nothing, so let's keep that in mind. But I have two questions for you. Are you ready for them?"
Steve nods, and then when he realizes that he's talking on the phone and Sam can't see him, mumbles something to the affirmative.
"My first question is this: if I were asking you for advice because I found myself in a situation like this one and I told you that I felt like I couldn't have a life outside of my work, what would you say?"
Steve thinks. "I'd tell you that everyone deserves to live their lives they way that they want to, that that's what we fight for, and that you'll probably be a better fighter if you have things to balance you out at home." Silence for a moment. "Oh, okay."
"Let's not stop there. My second question is this: when, and I am saying when, my friend, because it WILL happen… when we find Bucky, what the fuck are you going to tell him about what you've been doing the last few years? How are you going to help him come back to himself if you haven't lived a life outside the job?"
A longer silence, this time. Steve focuses on breathing for a minute, just absorbing what Sam had to say. He sees the situation here with a little more clarity, now, but that doesn't mean that the whole enterprise doesn't terrify him. He became Captain America to do something good during one of the worst times in human history; he never had a chance to learn how to be a person again before the plane went down. He certainly doesn't know how to be a person in this new century. But, for Bucky, to help him, and also because he does deserve it, he will try. He doesn't think that The Girl is the only way towards a life outside of work, but he'd be crazy to turn away from the one thing bringing him out of his shell.
"Thanks, Sam. I really needed that."
"No problem, man. You know you're not even close to the only person I've coached through this transition, right?" Steve laughs.
"Yeah, I know. So… I'm gonna go do non-work things, and I will see you in a few hours. Thanks again. You're a good friend."
"It was my pleasure, Cap. See you in a bit."
Steve walks over to his desk. He puts his phone down and picks up his drawing supplies. He sits, opening up to a new page and getting his pencils out, and then stills. With eyes closed, breathing deeply, one minutes passes. Then two...three...more. Steve opens his eyes, taking one last deep breath in before turning to the page in front of him. He starts drawing, and doesn't stop for more than an hour. He sits back, feeling suddenly drained and quite hungry.
He goes through the motions of making himself some eggs on toast, eating on autopilot while his brain continues to process the conversations he's had in the past few days. Finally he stirs, coming fully back to reality, and stands. He cleans his dishes, then moves to the bedroom and dresses for is run. Today he has no trouble picking out clothes to wear; partly this is because he's not feeling ashamed of the fact that all of his running gear shows off every single muscle on his torso. Last he packs a small, lightweight pack he can wear while running, putting his sketchbook and pencils, water and a snack (and a few extra in case Sam or The Girl want one) inside and putting it on.
Five minutes later, Steve finds Sam at their usual meeting place, and they start their run.
Steve makes sure to ask Sam about what's new, and so as the two men run, he happily focuses on his friend's stories of his new crush on the hot girl who just started working at his favorite coffee place. As they enter the grove of trees, slowing down to a jog, Steve's eyes automatically search for The Girl.
Behind him, Sam must have been looking as well, because he hears "hey! Where's Mystery Girl?"
Steve smiles. "She's here somewhere. I can tell." Sam grumbles about stupid super soldier senses, unfair, but Steve is focused on The Girl's unique scent floating through the air. He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to locate it's origin.
"Hey guys, what's up?" Steve's eyes snap open in time to see The Girl drop from a tree branch onto the ground between him and Sam.
Sam jumps. "Holy shit, give a man a little warning before you pull a stunt like that!"
As the two banter back and forth, Steve unslings his pack from his back, takes a drink of water, and settles himself on the ground. This is exactly what he should be doing today, he thinks; enjoying the warm summer sun with people who make him laugh.