Mesmerized
Disclaimer: I own nothing, although I love both. Anything you don't recognize belongs to me and I would appreciate it if you would ask before using it. HPxSR.
Warnings: This is SLASH. If you find this distasteful go look for a fic elsewhere.
Note- It has recently come to my attention than an author took some of my original ideas and claimed them as their own. Not cool. That said, I am not putting any of my fics for adoption. Sorry, but I have bad experiences with this and don't plan on having any repeats.
Enjoy.
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. Mesmerized
The time he spent between waking up to a world that was 70 years older than he remembered, and learning how to cope with the reality that he was now alone, was not a pleasant one. He was mystified, confused, by the world he had woken up to. There was so much—chaos. New York had always been loud, colorful, and filled with nearly every language and culture you could find in the world, but the changes that had occurred over the last seventy years were staggering. The made him feel all the more alone in a world that had, and hadn't, really forgotten him.
His methods of coping might not have been ideal, but he did what he could. Time passed slowly but he was making due. Instead of going out into the world and exploring, he had taking to getting to know his surroundings once more. New York was not quite what he remembered, yet there was still so much that remained the same. He had taken up boxing and running around the city to stay in shape and clear his head. It was during one of his running sessions that he found something else to keep him mind out of the fact that he was a man out of time.
It was a cold, brisk morning in mid January when Steve happened to run by a Diner he had avoided entering since his return. There was nothing very interesting about the Diner, only that the last time he had seen it, it had been new and very popular. It still looked to be popular, and he did not really know why he ran by Mama Ophie's since he had taken to avoiding the places he knew. Even ones with such few memories attached to them of what had been, the point was—there were too many memories. But something that morning had made him take pause at the fork that lead down to Mama Ophie's and to the park. Instead of taking his usual route, he had taken the road down to Mama's.
He ignored the looks sent his way by women and men alike, he had been unable to even think of starting anything with anyone. Fury had even gone so far as suggesting he had a one off. Times may have changed, but he had not. It was all or nothing. And so far? He hand't found anyone in this new world, this new time that had made that spark surface where he was sure his heart still lay. It was numb and broken, but it was still there, hanging by a thread. He knew, with the same certainty that he would not change the choices he had made, that there was someone out there he just had to wait for. That morning, he found himself stopping short at the sight of a petite man with the most brilliant set of emerald eyes he had ever seen. Maybe it was the thoughts that had been plaguing seconds before, or maybe it was the way the light fell and caught in those brilliant orbs, but Steve was caught.
From then on, Steve continued to run by Mama's every morning, hoping to catch sight of the breathtaking man with green eyes. He tried slowing down to a job instead of a run and threw a smile his way, but the man was frustratingly dense. He even leant against the window by his booth and drank water, making sure some of it fell and splashed agains his chest, his shirt clinging to every muscle, every bit of him. It certainly drew attention, but not the kind he wanted. It was frustrating really, to want someone to notice you so bad you stepped out of your comfort zone, and failed. It was with these thoughts in mind, and one last glance at the oblivious man with green eyes, that Steve decided to step it up a notch.
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It was a week before he was able to implement his new plan but Steve knew it would work. It had to. He was seriously running out of options. Waking slightly later than usual, Steve donned his running shorts and a white shirt. He ran his usual ten miles, looking at the time as he did and heading over to Mama's. At the fork, he took his sweat soaked shirt off and jogged at a neutral pace without looking inside the Diner. Once he was out of sight, Steve put his shirt back on with a grimace and avoided looking at any of the ogling bystanders. The next day, and the week that followed, Steve kept running around the streets of New York without a shirt on, always passing by at the exact same time. But every glance into the Diner made it clear, he was failing. And failure, was not an option. Steve decided on a new plan of attack, hopefully one that would not make him blush and stutter an explanation at nothing in general.
The Monday that followed found Steve sitting by the bar of the Diner, drinking coffee. He had woken up a bit earlier to get his normal run in, taking the path that led to the park instead. When he had entered the Diner at 7:50 on the dot, he was sat at the bar, not wanting to come on too strong, not yet. He had a plan of attack, and planning was what he did best. The snicker that greeted him was not was he expected. Narrowing his eyes in slight confusion, Steve sat up a bit straighter, "Ma'm." The woman just laughed, "Good luck with that, hon. Now what can I get you?" Steve flushed slightly and realized that in his bid to get his green eyed obsessions attention, he had mostly just made a fool of himself and given everyone else a free show. Sighing he gave a slight smile and ordered.
Now he just waited for his coffee and glanced at the clock from time to time. When it turned 8:10, Steve made sure to occupy himself with his paper and not look at anything, feigning disinterest. When the door chimed at 8:15, and a rush of electricity made its way down his spine, Steve marveled at his reaction to the man's presence and remained seated. The urge to move, to fidget was intense, but he could handle it. When the warmth of a body passed by him and abruptly stopped, placing itself by his left side, Steve sat up straighter, not noticing the amused glances cast his way. Turning, he looked into brilliant green eyes, far more beautiful in their intensity up close and without a barrier to obscure them. Thousands of words formed in his head but refused to flow past his lips. Steve turned away and was silent.
Mentally scolding himself, he continued to drink and eat in silence, stealing the occasional look. Steve hoped green eyes would start up a conversation and realized it was not in his nature. He kept himself from sighing in frustration. When it finally turned nine o'clock and his mystery man left, Steve waited patiently for the green eyed man's presence to fade before he dropped his head on the table and banged it hard. Groaning out loud, he cursed his inability to speak. The laughter that surged at his actions by Ginger, his waitress, made it that much worse. Looking up, he saw not only Ginger, but several other waiters, the cook, and more than a few patrons looking at him in both amusement and pity. Standing rigid, Steve paid his bill and made his way out. He'd show them.
It never really occurred to him that maybe his green eyes was not interested in men. Not that he was, but still.
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Months later when Steve managed muster up the courage and to find just the right opening when his friend and waitress finally burst, thank you Gisselle, Steve finally put a name to the silent beauty. Turning to face the green eyed man and smiling slightly, and hiding the glee that threatened to make him look like a fool or a stalker, he spoke to him for the first time, "She's right you know." Green eyes looked back at him and he smiled, laughing softly. "Yes, yes she is." Steve savored the sweet sound of that smooth voice rolling over him, "Steve Rogers." "Pleasure to meet you!" he responded with a pleased smile. So that's his name. Steve waited for a moment and laughed, "This is generally the part where you tell me your name?" The adorable flush that marked green eyes cheeks was worth all the effort, "Harry. Harry Potter." Steve gave a small, barely there caress to the small hand encased in his, with a final squeeze he let go reluctantly, "Good to finally meet you." The silence that followed was comfortable and ripe with a sense of, something. Something with a hint of promise.
When Harry, his name was Harry, left at nearly ten instead of nine, Steve smirked in triumph. Turning to look into the amused eyes of Ginger and Gisselle, the sense on victory and accomplishment threatened to make him do something crazy and undignified of a soldier—like dance in the middle of the Diner or something, so he left after paying his bill and leaving a nice tip in gratitude.
On his way to his apartment, Steve looked around him cautiously before he broke out into truly spectacularly, horrible, dance moves. He hadn't felt this good in a long time. Opening his eyes at the sound of breathless laughter, he looked up at Kira, his neighbor and blushed furiously. He stopped and tucked his hands into his pocket and walked, as dignified as possible, into the entrance of the complex. Or, you know, tried to.
Hysterical laughter followed him as he picked himself up, blushing bright red, from tripping on the front step until he reached his apartment. At least now he knew, he had a chance.
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. The end.
Well, that was a great, big, thank you to everyone who reviewed and favorite-ed Taking Chance. It reached the 200 favorite mark today and I felt I should reward all those who reviewed (22). I do appreciate all of those who actually took the time to review so, Thank You all very much. I'm glad you liked it and hoped you like this one-shot of sorts.
This is a one-shot of sorts, kinda. But I'm still not sure I want to try a mutli-chapter fic. Maybe just a series of HPxSR one-shots with a couple of Tony/Harry friendship one-shots thrown in. You never know what will happen. I have considered requests for other Harry/Avengers pairings, but that won't happen this week.
CoTF