Brooklyn Heights
Steve stood in his sparsely furnished apartment wearing just jeans and a tee shirt. Since he helped the couple with the gang members, he decided to keep a low profile and just paint. Now he stood in front of a large canvas staring at his half completed work. He painted it from memory and since the serum gave him an eidetic memory it was an exact representation of his subject. Natasha Romanov in her Black Widow BDU with widow bites and holstered Glocks was his subject. He hadn't intended to paint Nat in her Widow gear but he just couldn't forget the first time he saw her in it. It was on the helicarrier right before the Battle of New York. He didn't comment and tried not to stare, but it was at that moment that he realized that he was not only out of time but she was out of his league. Thereafter he tried to be her comrade and eventually friend but, even though, she reminded him of Peggy, he kept romantic thoughts out of his head.
Of course, he had no control over his romantic thoughts. They crept into his mind regardless of how he decided to treat and think of Natasha. It was not only her bravery and boldness that reminded him of Peggy, but her beauty and red hair. She was not just a remarkable woman; she was remarkable. Training the new team of Avengers with her was the closest thing he had to a relationship with a woman since the days he worked with Peggy.
He stood back and looked at his painting. Although it was good, it wasn't perfect. He captured much of her, including her curves, which made him blush, but he hadn't quite captured the light in her eyes and the smirk on her lips. Those perfect lips.
"Steve, you really need to get out and meet more people," he sighed.
He placed don his brush and palate and walked towards the kitchen. There was cold beer in the refrigerator and a thick T bone steak waiting to be cooked.
Natasha exited the plane at JFK. Her hair was now blonde and her contacts made her eyes blue. She wore a dark blue business suit with a skirt that was just tight enough to bring many appreciative eye to her backside and not her face, even though she knew no one would recognize her. It had been a long flight and she was glad to be back in New York. From JFK she was going to take a taxi ride to Park Slope, Brooklyn and a safe house that she and Clint had set up there long ago. They both knew that when Stark turned Stark Tower into Avengers Tower that there would be times in which they would want disappear from the chaos that was Tony Stark.
Once she was settled in park Slope she'd start her search fro Steve. According to Clint he was living in Brooklyn Heights. With that much information it wouldn't take her long to find her mark. She stood in front of the luggage carousel waiting for her two pieces of luggage. It was going to be good to see Steve again. She missed him; she missed him more than she wanted to admit.
"Hi, beautiful," a guy in an Armani suit tried to get her attention.
She ignored him. Look at my arse and dream, but leave me alone, she thought to herself. I don't have the time to catch anyone in my web.
Spider-man stopped the Lizard, but he was now paying a price for wrecking several blocks in Times Square. The police had their Hercules Squad out in full with their latest weapons and they were all trained on him and a now unconscious and webbed up Curt Connors. Stark told him to avoid moments like this because it put him at odds with the Sokovia Accords, which he had yet to sign because Tony Stark kept stalling for him.
He now had two choices: either, give up and go with the police, or fight and run. Peter was readying to fight without harming the police and run when suddenly a thick mist surrounded him. One moment he was in time square and the next moment he was looking out a widow at Bleecker Street. Sitting at a desk was Dr. Stephen Strange, a sometime Avenger that Peter met and was getting to know. According to Stark he was magician, not a fake one, but a real sorcerer with real magic and real spells.
"Mr. Parker, you have to be more careful," said Strange.
"Um how I get here?" he asked.
"Magic," smiled Strange.
Strange liked the young man and decided that he would protect whenever he could. He showed great potential.
"Thanks," said Peter.
"Take off your mask and sit," said Strange. He motioned to an empty chair in front of his desk. "We can have a cup of tea and get to know each other."
Peter pulled off his mask then sat down.
"Some place you have here," Peter noted as he looked around Strange's study.
"It's my Sanctum Sanctorum. For reason I rather not explain I am considered the Sorcerer Supreme. I protect this realm," said Strange.
"Okay," relied Peter.
Strange laughed softly.
"Has Mr. Stark ever been here?" asked Peter.
"No," was the quick answer. "I understand the need for the Avengers, though I disagree with the Sokovia Accords and believe the best leader for the Avengers is in exile."
"Captain America?" said Peter.
"That is right. The Avengers need a leader like him, not Tony Stark," stated Strange.
"Well, okay, if that's the way you see it," mumbled Peter.
"Something is coming, Peter, something dangerous. The Avengers will be needed and when that time comes The Avengers will need its leader," said Strange.
"What's coming?" asked Peter.
"The end if we are not careful," stated Strange. "Our very end."
Steve went to Clark's for dinner. As usual he ate a meal and got something to go. Steve walked the several blocks from the restaurant to his home in silence. In a week it would be Halloween and the weather was getting cooler. He wore his leather bomber jacket with the collar up, a Brooklyn Dodgers baseball cap, and glasses completed his disguise. With his two Philly cheese steaks and two orders of French fries in his right hand, he absentmindedly reached up with his left hand and scratch his bread. He hated to admit it but he hated having a bread. Steve preferred to be clean shaven.
Coming up to his brownstone, he walked up the stoop, took his keys out, and opened the door. Two college female college students shared the first floor apartment. One of them opened their door as Steve entered the building.
"Hey, Grant," she purred.
"Naomi," he grinned shyly.
"Brought home dinner?" she asked.
"Yeah," he replied.
"Maybe someday Carol and I can make you dinner?" she asked.
"Maybe," he nodded and headed up the stairs.
If Nat was here, she'd be angry that I didn't take her up on the dinner offer, Steve smiled to himself. No one worked harder to get me a date than her. He reached his fourth floor door, unlocked and let himself into his apartment. Turning on the overhead light he walked into the kitchen and placed the food on the counter then he stopped dead. He heard a slight creak in the floor boards in his artist studio.
Steve reacted quickly. It was either a thief or the government had found him. He moved with stealth and speed and headed down the hallway to the room he used as his studio. As he approached the door, he noticed the light was on, so he opened the door and sprang into the room. Standing looking at some of his canvases was a blonde haired Natasha. She was wearing knee high black leather boots, jeans, and a black silk shirt and a brown leather jacket.
With one of his smaller canvases in her hands she turned and looked at him. Steve stood there with his heart racing and not sure how to react. She looked at the large canvas which was now covered by a sheet.
"What's behind the sheet?" she smirked.
Steve always waited, always was cautious, but now he was thinking. He was just reacting. Moving quickly, he closed the distance between him and Natasha. He placed his left hand behind her head and his right hand on her hip, pulled her close and kissed her hard on the lips. At first she leaned into his kiss and responded. His mouth was hot and addictive, but then she took her hands and placed them on his chest and pushed him away. Steve took three steps back.
Natasha looked at him with her amused mask on.
"Whoa, big boy, did you see the blonde hair and think Sharon Carter?" Natasha goaded him.
"I knew it was you, Nat," he said. "The hair didn't fool me."
"I smell food. Feed me then we need to talk," she said.
"Yes, ma'am," he smiled.