Disclaimer: I do not own Captain America (the comics, movies, etc.) or any of the characters; I only own my OC Art.

10. The Sides Of One Coin

"You look as lovely as you did the last time I saw you, Artemesia," Howard announced as Art walked back into the workshop with Steve at her side. She gave half a smile and nodded to the inventor, stopping just in front of him.

"You said that you finished the vest?" Art asked, cheekily ignoring the comment he'd just made. Noticing that she'd avoided it, he smirked and placed his hands atop the shoulders of a covered mannequin, drumming his fingers lightly against the sheet.

"Indeed I have; eager to see it? Eager to don a piece of clothing that will change your daily routine and be the most innovative piece of clothing you have ever worn?" Art rolled her eyes at the way it seemed like he was almost trying to sell it to her; then again, he was in fact an inventor and he was used to selling what he made to those who looked on in awe… and he was just Howard Stark, the man with a charming tongue and a charming smile. "Well, you don't have to wait any longer. Voilá!" He whipped the blue sheet off the mannequin and grinned as it dropped to the ground, revealing what he'd been working on.

Like Howard had described, it looked very much like a vest but it was structured with pieces of boning and different panels made of dark blue fabric; the front had metal buttons and hooks that locked together securely and were fastened soundly into material. Howard smiled proudly at it and launched into his typical descriptions.

"Now, as you can see I've used the metal boning to keep the front nice and flat and the sides curved enough to fit your waist perfectly––hopefully perfectly. The buttons on the front should hopefully never come undone when you move, seeing as the hooks with bend and twist with the direction you turn. Now… the material. This is my favorite bit." He removed the vest from the mannequin and held it against his chest, knocking against it with his knuckles. "Beneath this lovely blue fabric is a fabric of my own design that can stop a bullet but allow you to move naturally as you can see here." He bent a panel so it moved easily in half like normal fabric. Steve's eyebrows rose at the mention of the whole 'stopping a bullet' capability.

"How far away does the person shooting have to be in order for that to stop a bullet?" Steve asked. Howard itched at the back of his head and cleared his throat, letting Art take the vest from him.

"Um… One hundred feet or more… tests came up with that… that average; but she's done a good job not being shot so far, so I think that's something to be thought about as well," Howard admitted. Steve rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Well disregarding all of that information, Art, why don't you go try it on?"

Art stood in the restroom and unbuttoned her shirt, slipping it off and letting it rest on the edge of the sink; next, the bandages, which were worn and old, came off and then fell into a small trash bin. She took a moment to suck in a few deep breaths, her chest once again liberated from the pressure that had been needed to even slightly flatten out her chest. Slipping on the vest, Art slowly began to do up the front, shifting slightly as it hugged her body; once it was completely on, her eyebrows rose in surprise. Like Howard had promised, it was completely, utterly… comfortable. There was still pressure due to the vest having to flatten out her breasts, but it was definitely less than the bandages. Tugging on and buttoning her shirt back up, she turned to the side and then smiled; it worked. It really had worked. The bandages could only have done so much, but Howard's vest made everything look more natural; albeit she would still have to wear the shirt slightly looser than everyone else, but it looked and felt far better than what she'd been doing for months on end. She leaned forward and fixed the front of her hair, sweeping her fingers through the shortened locks in a manner she'd perfected long ago. Stepping back, she nodded at her reflection and smiled again at the fact she looked sufficiently masculine.

She strode back into the workshop and smiled, placing her hands on her hips.

"Well, you did the impossible, Howard. You really, really did," Art commended, sliding her hands down the front of her stomach. Howard grinned and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Can I have a look to make sure everything fits properly?" he asked. At the sudden glare that he received from Steve, he quickly added on, "I'll be strictly professional, I assure you." Even though his eyes were trained on Art, his words were directed at Steve. Art nodded, looking a tad more shy than usual, turning around to unbutton the front of her shirt; it wasn't like she was going to be naked… just… feeling rather exposed. Turning back around, she left the shirt hanging open, but didn't take it completely off. Howard being Howard, a tiny smirk rose to his face but he kept it off as he became professional again, looking at the way it hugged her body.

Steve averted his eyes with pink cheeks, respecting her modesty completely; it was only when out of the corner of his eye he'd noticed Howard slide a hand down her side to see if the boning of the vest was working that he turned back to make sure the inventor didn't get too fresh. Art was one of Steve's closest friends, he would gladly sock someone across the jaw for her if he needed to. Smiling, Howard gestured for her to button her shirt back up, something which she did gladly.

"Fits like a glove," he said, obviously proud of his work. Then he smirked and leaned up against a workbench, eyebrow raising. "Now, you did say you'd owe me one if it worked out, didn't you?" Art looked over at him with a straight face but a suspicious look in her eyes.

"I did," she said. Steve's brows pulled together and his lips thinned out, not liking where the topic of conversation might be going.

"I was wondering if I could cash that in now." Shrugging, she smiled at him a little bit.

"Don't see why not."

"How about a date––you and me. I know of a very lovely restaurant here in the city I'm sure you would enjoy," Howard suggested with a bright, confident grin. Both the Captain and the Sergeant stood dumbstruck at what he said; Art, eyes wide, felt utterly shocked at what he'd just said. There she stood, hair cropped and chest flattened and she was being asked on a date by Howard Stark. She stuttered for a moment, nervously sweeping her hand through her hair.

"Um… a-a date? Well…" If Florence had been there, she would have encouraged her niece to say yes; she would have asked what she had to lose––he was charming, kind, and handsome… and also the Howard Stark. But even though he was charming, kind, handsome, and Howard Stark, Art felt like a date wouldn't be right. She held no romantic interest for the inventor before her; and maybe, just maybe, as she glanced over at Steve, she thought that Howard wasn't the one she would want to go on a date with. Art cleared her throat and gathered her thoughts before smiling. "I can't do a date, Howard, I'm sorry. But I'll let you buy me a drink––one drink." Even the refusal didn't dim his grin.

"I'd be honored to be allowed to buy you a drink. But I have one other request, if I could voice it," he said with a cheeky look in his eyes. Art sent a worried glance over at Steve, who looked rather displeased with the turn of conversation.

"Depends on what it is…"

"I want you to go out and find a dress. I want you to wear it when I buy you a drink; give yourself a chance to get all dolled up for the first time since you started trudging around in the mud for the military," he told her seriously. Once again caught off-guard, Art stared at him for a long moment.

"You're… you're serious," she said after a moment. Howard nodded.

"Yeah. I am." Eventually she nodded her agreement, knowing it was the way she could get him off her back. Her nod drew the grin back up Stark's face. "Fantastic. Now, I'd get going if I were you; I'll see you tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yeah; you're gonna be busy kicking some Nazi ass for the rest of the week, tonight's the night! Now, go, you've got some shopping to do!" As Art and Steve turned to leave, Howard called, "Cap, hang back for a moment, I fixed the strap on your shield." Letting out a heavy, frustrated breath, Steve turned back around and stood rigidly beside Stark as he cleaned up his workbench to he could find the shield. "I know you want to say something, go ahead and say it."

"Do you have to flirt with every woman who walks through that door?" Steve immediately questioned. Howard smirked.

"It's in my nature, Steve; you can't stop a fish from swimming, can you?"

"She's a respectable woman, Stark, you can't treat her like trash." Howard looked up at him with a truly insulted look on his face, snorting lightly at what the taller man had just said.

"I don't treat women like trash––I don't know what rumors you've been hearing, but they're wrong." He then narrowed his eyes at the captain curiously. "Why so defensive? Have you got a cute little secret that pertains to our own resident Viola? Have you got a little infatuation?" Steve's jaw clenched and he looked away, forcing himself to breathe calmly at Howard's guess. A grin spread up the dark haired man's face. "Oh, you do, don't you?"

"I do not," he defensively snapped, looking back down at the inventor. "She's one of my soldiers, one of my friends––"

"And a very attractive, female friend. A very attractive, female soldier. You're getting a bit too defensive over someone you just consider a friend, Steve; I guess, that would explain the way you glared at me the entire time I fitted the vest, why you looked like you wanted to punch the wall when I asked her out on a date," Howard teased, picking up Steve's vibranium shield. He snatched it out of Howard's hands with a distasteful look on his face.

"Just don't gawk at her tonight," he hissed, slipping his arm through she shield's straps before marching back to the door, back straight and shoulders squared.

OOOO

Art nervously fixed the front of her her hair for the fourth time, wrapping curls around her finger before letting them slip off and fall against her forehead; having lack of any sort of privacy at camp, she and Peggy had slipped back into the bunker's sizable women's bathroom so she could get ready for the evening. Like Howard had requested, she'd donned a dress––navy blue with polka-dots––and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, beginning to fret and pick at how she looked. Peggy had been kind enough to lend her beauty supplies, including make-up and a curling iron, assisting her in whatever way she needed. Art was quite impressed that she still knew how to properly flick eyeliner along her lids and how not to burn her hair off with the iron; it had been so long since she'd done anything of the sort and it felt odd to do it again.

"Stop picking at it," Peggy chided, slapping Art's wrist as she pulled on the curls again. The longest parts of her hair were curled and combed to fall against her head in waves, but nothing much else could have been done to it, much to Art's regret. Sighing, she grabbed the red lipstick from the Agent's hand and uncapped it, leaning closer to the mirror in order to swipe it across her lips.

"I can't help it," she replied before carefully painting her lips with the bright red lipstick. She and Peggy had gotten closer in the time that had followed her secret being found out, even after the admission of the British woman being the one to turn her in; they bonded over the fact they were two of the few women who worked directly with the one-oh-seventh and found that a friendship was easily struck up. Peggy rolled her eyes and reached out, rearranging the strands of hair that Art had been worrying over.

"You look lovely, Art." Stepping away from the mirror, Art sighed and looked herself over, her brows creased in the middle as she slid her hands down her sides, smoothing out the dress. It fit well and she felt comfortable enough in it, but… it was the hair. It didn't work. Had it been just a bit longer it might have worked out, but it was just too short, too boyish.

"Really? Even with the hair?" she asked, reaching up to touch the shortness of her locks at the back of her neck. Peggy smiled and handed her the cloche styled sun-hat they'd found earlier, resisting the urge to laugh when the other woman snatched it up so eagerly.

"Even with the hair," Peggy laughed, watching Art slip the hat on and make sure that the curls were still visible. "You can't wear that hat all night."

"I'll wear it for as long as possible, Peggy," Art replied with a heavy sigh, looking herself over with a funny look on her face again. "I guess it's now or never, right?"

The bar was just as busy as Art had ever seen it, but she felt out of place, like she had a floodlight trained on her; the familiar atmosphere almost felt dangerous to her, like she could be recognized at any moment, even with the make-up and the hat and the dress. She politely excused herself as she moved through tight crowds, earning smiles and nods from some of the men, which made her blush and look down. It was like she was back in New York again, getting those flirtatious smiles as she walked back home from her early shift at the hospital; and she still didn't know how to react. She spotted Howard sitting at the bar, tapping his fingers against it as he searched the crowd for familiar faces. Sucking in a deep breath, Art walked over to him and stopped at the stool beside him, clearing her throat.

"Mind if I take a seat?" she asked, gaining his attention. He looked over at her and stared a moment, a smile spreading over his face.

"Of course," he told her with a happy tone. "You look lovely, Artemesia." She laughed and looked at her hands, which she'd clasped on the bar; she ran her fingers over the scarring on her right hand, staring at the pale pink scar tissue that swirled over her knuckles.

"Um… thank you," she said, a smile working its way up to her lips. Howard gestured at the bar tender, holding up two fingers and mouthing something she couldn't catch from the corner of her eye; leaning against the bar while seated sideways on his stool, he smiled again, looking her over once more.

"A dress really does suit you; are all the men in your division blind? 'Cause I have no clue how they could have missed such a beauty." Art looked over at him and arched an eyebrow playfully.

"I thought this wasn't a date, Howard," she teased.

"It isn't. I'm just inclined to tell beautiful women whatever's on my mind." Again casting her eyes anywhere but the man who'd complimented her, Art slowly reached up and grasped the short brim of her hat, pulling it off hesitantly. Self consciously, she ran her fingers through the flattened waves of her hair, glancing around as though someone was about to call her bluff and berate her short style of hair. "Stop glancing around like a thief in a room of cops; the only stares you're getting are ones of appreciation."

"Even with hair this short?" she laughed nervously, grasping the pint glass that was then placed in front of her. Rolling his eyes, the inventor nodded.

"Even with hair that short." He reached out and put a hand atop hers, giving it a comforting squeeze. She looked over to him curiously and he smiled. "You look beautiful, Artie, you really do. Now go say hello to Cap, I won't be far behind. Don't look so surprised, I said I'd buy you a drink, not usurp you from an evening with your friend; besides, I think I'll stop by and have a chat with the fellas anyway."

Smiling at him gratefully, she slipped off the stool, hat and pint in hand, and made her way towards the Commandos' usual table, where they all sat around chatting away as they typically did. Feeling a short burst of smug confidence she placed a hand on Steve's shoulder as she stepped up behind him, smiling brightly at all of her friends.

"Have an extra seat, boys?" Art questioned as they all looked up at her. They stared in stunned silence, taking in the sight before them. Steve immediately rose to his feet with wide, blinking blue eyes and a mouth that had dropped open slightly; he was utterly dumbfounded that she'd been able to hide her figure so well under the military grade uniform, even with the bagginess she'd worn it at. With her expertly applied make-up and minorly curled hair, with the curve of her neck exposed and the quirk of her lips present, and with her polka-dot dress and her loosely wrapped shawl, Steve got a look at what he could have seen in New York if he'd stayed around longer. Maybe he would have been lucky and run into her on the street, seen the swish of her hair and the surprise in her eyes… but that was a fictitious scene that played out in his mind and that was okay, because he was seeing her now and she was utterly gorgeous.

"Art… you look… um… you look…" Steve stuttered trying to actually get the word 'gorgeous' past his lips, but words stumbled over his teeth and tongue, coming out in an embarrassing jumble of sounds.

"Absolutely fantastic," Bucky cut in, a bright grin pulled across his face. "Damn, Artie… you really can pull off a dress." Art snorted and sat in a seat that had been pulled up next to Steves, smoothing out her skirt as she lowered herself down.

"I would certainly hope so; until recently, I wore them every day of my life," she replied with a verbal eye-roll. Steve sat down slowly, eyes still trained on her with his lips still quivering as he kept trying to say that stupid word; he'd never been good around girls, that was Bucky's area of expertise… but it was rare that Steve was actually ever reduced to looking like a bumbling idiot like he was in that moment. Dugan smirked and arched an eyebrow, tapping the side of his cigar so ashes tumbled off the end.

"So this is what you really look like then, Sarge?" he asked. She glanced around again, worried someone might've heard the word 'sarge,' but was relieved when everyone was concerned with their own business like usual.

"Usually with longer hair and a nurses uniform tucked under my arm, but, yes. Typically," she replied, lifting her glass to sip at her beer. Bucky leaned towards her and winked, nudging her arm gently with his knuckles.

"Who would've known you were hiding such a lovely figure under that uniform, huh?" he teased, pleased when he brought a blush to Art's face. "It's nice to see such a pretty face again, eh, boys?"

"Very pretty indeed," Falsworth said with a smile, kissing his fingers before gesturing towards her in a mock blown kiss. She pressed a hand to her chest and pretended to swoon, leaning back in her chair; her theatrics caused all of her fellow comrades to laugh, and through that laughter she heard Steve's voice murmur.

"Gorgeous…" Looking over to her blond captain, a smile on her lips, she met his shy gaze. His head was tilted down and an adorably tiny smile pulled up one half of his lips, a handsome twinkle in his eyes. Blushing for what felt like the thousandth time that evening, she ducked her head and reached out her hand to place it atop his, which sat on his knee.

"Thank you…" she whispered, slowly letting her hand slip from his, her pinky hooking slightly against his as it finally dropped away. Smiling a bit wider, he nodded and felt his cheeks heat up just like hers had, both looking greatly like two children who'd just held hands for the first time.

Across the bar Howard watched with a smirk, scoffing to himself with a roll of his eyes. They were both so damn blind, weren't they…

OOOO

The night had wore on with each passing moment bringing up new chats; when Howard showed up he insisted on taking pictures, even having Art and Steve stand up to pose together before wrangling Bucky and then the rest of the Commandos in as well. And then it was eventually time for everyone to return to camp; the lads had all taken one of the jeeps back, leaving Steve to escort Art back to the bunker to change back into uniform, which would then allow him to drive her back on his motorcycle. He waited in the practically empty bunker, hands stuffed in his pockets while he rocked back and forth on his feet. He wasn't sure why he felt so darn nervous. Maybe it was because he'd said she looked gorgeous, maybe it was because he was thinking over what Howard had said earlier that day… about Steve having more than just a friendly inclination towards Art. And maybe, just maybe… after seeing both sides of Art––the soldier and the civilian––and knowing that either side of the metaphorical coin would always be her through and through… maybe he realized there could be some truth in Stark's statement.

"Ready to go back?" Art asked, stepping around the corner, tightening the strap of her bag over her chest. She was back in uniform with all make-up scrubbed off and her hair still curled but a tad more ruffled up, to discourage the look of the artificial enhancement of her curls; and she still looked gorgeous. Steve nodded, fingering something in his pocket.

"Um… yeah. But, uh… could I give you something first?" he asked. Art gave him a curious look but nodded.

"Of course." He extracted a medium sized square of paper from his pocket, smirking down at whatever was on it.

"I, uh… I thought that since you gave me a picture of what you looked like prior to the war… I thought you might want to have one of me." He extended his hand, holding out the photograph. Art stared at him with an unmasked smidgen of shock on her face, slowly reaching out to accept the item; she'd known that he had once been a skinny, short, guy from Brooklyn before the test of the serum––he'd told her––but she'd never seen any pictures. Turning the picture right-side up, she looked down at it and smiled.

Sure enough, there was a photograph of Steve just before he'd entered boot camp. He stood leaned up against the railing of what must have been the staircase that led up to his apartment, a smile on his face that suggested he must have been laughing at the time it was snapped; she guessed Bucky must've been the one to take the picture because no one could make Steve laugh like he could. God, he really had been thin… his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing gangly arms that were crossed over his chest. His clothes fit well but still hung loosely around his limbs almost like clothing items fitted to a scarecrow; he was shorter too… maybe an inch or two below her current height if she estimated correctly based on the height of the railing in the picture. But it was still Steve. Still the same goofy grin he got when he laughed and the same tilt of the head and the same face. Still the same handsome man who stood before her.

"Barely any people here have seen me like that… most of them know me as I am now; Captain America, savior of the One-oh-Seventh and American hero… but I'm just Steve Rogers," he chuckled, scratching at the back of his head before pointing to the photo. "That's Steve Rogers…" Art looked up at him and smiled at him brightly; she reached out and took his hand for the second time that night, giving it a squeeze.

"And the man before me is Steve Rogers. He's also Captain America. You're both. And I'm… I'm honored you'd give this to me," she told him honestly, holding up the photograph, which she then tucked into her pocket. "Thank you." Steve smiled and kept his eyes trained on their interlocked hands, which hung easily and casually between them.

"You're welcome, Art."

Art then reluctantly slipped her hand from his, knowing that anyone could round a corner at any moment and become royally confused if they had yet to be informed of the 'woman in the ranks of men' situation. Both then shoved their hands into their jacket pockets and made their way back to the foggy streets to walk their way to Steve's bike. As they chatted about menial things, Art let her mind wander to things they weren't speaking about; namely the buzz of warmth that had run through her body when Steve had muttered that one meaningful word back in the bar. She thought maybe she wasn't meant to hear it, but that smile… the smile on his face said that she was and that made her… happy.

It was a happy that sent a rush through her body, made her heart pound faster, and a grin want to creep up on her lips each time she thought of that smile he sent her from across a room or before a mission; she hadn't felt something like it before, but she knew what it was. In the course of months of missions and secrets and laughter and tears and smiles, Artemesia Knoll of the One-oh-Seventh had fallen for Steve Rogers, the one and only Captain America. And as she slid onto the motorcycle behind him and wound her arms around his middle, she contended herself to smile into nothing, unaware that he was smiling just the same way.

Afterword: Hey, guys! It's another chapter! HUZZAH! Next chapter we'll get back into the movie (the feels will come barreling at us soon…), but I've been dying to get some of these scenes out for a while… like Howard's vest and the bar scene that I was keen on getting up :) However, not too sure about that ending paragraphy… :-/

REVIEW REPLIES!

weaselylover10: I'm glad this story makes you happy! It makes me happy too; I hope you keep on reading, friend! Thanks again!

heroherondaletotherescue: Glad you enjoyed last chapter and hope you enjoyed this one as well; I'm a bit if-y on the bar scene, but what can I do? :) Thanks again!

dany1114: The Bucky and Art scene should actually be up next chap; it was supposed to be in this one but then it veered in a different direction; there will be some romance before the end of TFA. How much of it, I don't know, but there should be some. But things miiiiiight be about to go to hell in a handbasket pretty soon, so… It should happen before that :) we got some flirting in this chap though! Hope you enjoyed it! Thanks again!

Kat7CA: The Howling Commandos are back indeed and will be more so next time! And I'm glad about these frequent updates too :{P Thanks again!

Kindleflame5: I do have an idea for a hero name and I will say it's somewhere along the lines of Lady Liberty, but I've seen that name used quite a few times in other Cap. America OC stories, so I have a plot thing that should help with a name. Let's see if you can spot it in the future :) Thanks again and I hope you keep on reading!
Shnitzel: I'm really glad you enjoy the story! And super glad to hear that it seems realistic what with Art wanting to follow the rules and regulations of the army :) I feel like if she acted 'above the law' and then was found out she'd be out in an instant even if someone vied for her to stay. Hearing that Art is a convincing soldier makes me smile! And now that the Commandos know she's a girl, maybe they'll start bothering her about boyfriends instead of girlfriends ;) And thank god I didn't ruin Dugan, I'm quite fond of him! AND YAY I WRITE STEVE WELL :D I'm always worried he's too out of character aldjfalskdjfalsdfjls. And you read my mind about the dress situation (as you probably read); I've been planning out that scene in my head dozens of times! And the picture idea… oh, it was so sweet, I just had to put it in, so thank you for suggesting it! Thank you again so, so much for your lovely review!

Jo: I'm glad you're stickin' around! I will admit that I'd always meant for Peggy to be the one to tell––in my mind it had initially been a thought she'd do it with a slightly less friendly intent, but I couldn't bring myself to make her mean :) I was so worried I would screw up Howard, and to know that I wrote him well makes me really happy! Hopefully that means I'll get Tony down just as well too! And we'll see how Bucky feels about Art… Thanks again!

And to those who have added this to favorites and follows, thank you so, so, so much! It means a lot to me!

I watched Captain America: The Winter Soldier again the other night… oh, the ideas I have… :D And the same with the Avengers… AHHG. I'm excited to see how many of you will stick around to see what I have planned and see if y'all enjoy what I've got coming up in this story, especially with the upcoming train scene that rips my heart out every time I watch it. We can all cry together and share tissues :) Thanks again you guys!

~Mary