Part number two. Don't own anything but the story line.
Basically, first signs of Captain Hill. Suggestive in places. Changes to Steve's POV half way through. Enjoy.
She was stuck. In a lift. With Captain America. For most women her age, it would be a dream come true to be stuck in a lift with him, hell, even some men her age, but not for her. That didn't mean she couldn't appreciate what was right in front of her, she wasn't blind. She could see what the super soldier serum had done to his body. She just didn't like the fact that he was, in fact, a super soldier, a superhero. And she didn't like superheroes, especially not Fury's pets. That didn't change the fact that she was stuck in a lift with him. She allowed her self to look at him. He really was quite handsome, if you liked that blonde haired, blue eyed all American boy look, which she found she kind of did, despite her Canadian blood. As her eyes ran up his tall, muscular form, resting momentarily on the biceps bulging, shoulders straining against his tight white work out shirt, up to his face. When she looked at his face, she realised she had been caught staring, and looked away quickly as he tried to catch her gaze, her cheeks on fire. Just because she appreciated his appearance didn't mean she wanted anyone else to know that. She had a reputation to uphold.
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He was trapped in a lift. With Fury's right hand woman. When he had first seen her on the bridge, he had been surprised for a moment, before remembering how different things were now compared to back in his day and age. Her uniform was yet more evidence of that. Not that the skin tight leather didn't suit her, rather that it suited her all to well, he was a hot-blooded male after all. He wasn't an idiot just because he was from the 40s, despite what Stark thought. Any hopes he might have had of talking to her, however, were dashed the moment she looked at him, the disdain evident on her face. He once asked an Agent why that was, and the agent's reply had simply been that she thought superheroes were a waste of time and resources. Being stuck in a lift with her brought back all of the thoughts he had tried to suppress. Stark had called her the Ice Princess, and he knew that wasn't without reason, but that didn't stop him from appreciating a beautiful woman when he saw one. The smooth curves of her shapely legs, her slightly rounded but, her slender arms, the smooth curve of her hips, the curve of the breasts against her uniform, her slender yet strong neck. Dark brown waves tied firmly in place at the back of her head. Her steely blue eyes looking at his face, before she averted her gaze quickly, a rosy blush dusting her cheeks, making her look all the more beautiful. He hadn't been the only one looking, he realised. The thought brought a small smile to his lips. Then, the lift jerked back to life, ascending to the Avengers living room.
As soon as the doors were open, she swept out, leaving him behind, appreciating the view for a moment, before he came to his senses, and followed her down the corridor, just before the doors closed.