Sorry that this chapter is a day late, spring break is coming up at the end of this week but so are tests and papers and advising. It's definitely longer than the last one, so I hope that makes up for the late upload. Again, not a whole lot to say about this chapter, though it does sort of start setting the stage for the Avengers… a little bit.
I want to give a huge thank you to you guys that have reviewed this story so far, you really do make my day and make me want to write more. But that's the same for the folks that are also following/favoriting. I'm really glad that you actually like this story enough to do that, and I'll try not to disappoint. Anyway, keep up the good work and let me know what you think because I love getting feedback.
Adara.
Also, I don't own any recognizable characters.
Chapter Fourteen:
September 10, 2011, Location: Department of Homeland Security, Washington DC
"You've got quite a lot of glass in your feet, Ms. Dugan." Nicole leaned back against the wall as she tried to ignore the burning ache in her feet as shards of glass were dug out of her skin.
Oh, sure, the paramedics on site had given her a nice dose of painkillers, but those usually ended up burning through her fast and Nicole couldn't exactly ask for more without raising suspicion. Instead she grit her teeth and forced her shoulders to lift in a shrug.
"I've had worse." Which was true; life as a field agent was never dull.
"It looks like I've got everything out, how are you doing?" She looked down at the man, he had streaks of grey shooting through his temples and a kind smile on his mature features.
Nicole resisted the urge to scratch at the bandage on her forehead, and a stab of pain radiated from her mouth when she grimaced. "Feel like I've been hit by a truck."
"I'm not surprised. You have several bruised ribs, though none of them seem cracked, and a nasty bump on your head. Still… the cuts are already starting to scab over so I think you should be fine. I'm going to go grab some spare bandages from the next room and we'll get your feet wrapped up." He pushed to his feet, absently collecting the dish filled with broken glass and tossing it into a portable hazmat bag. "So just sit tight."
"No problem, doc." Not like Nicole was going anywhere. Even if she wanted to move–which she did not at the moment–she doubted that she could.
The paramedic left, the door not shutting fully before a new presence came sweeping in. She wasn't surprised in the slightest to find that it was, in fact, Emil Blonsky entering the room that Nicole had been moved into. The man didn't speak, his eyes sizing her up as she studied him in turn. Her body was tense, and ready to jump into action at a moment's notice though Nicole really didn't want to. She hadn't been lying when she'd said she felt like shit; her body healed exponentially faster than that of a normal human being, and she would no doubt be back to normal after a couple of days rest but right now…
Right now each breath sent her torso into a sharp protest.
"I can see that SHIELD trains their agents well. You handled yourself admirably in that fight." Those words were softly spoken with a tone of silky compliment and Nicole was immediately put on edge.
"Only accept the best, to train the best." She answered automatically, senses on high alert. "There something I can do for you?"
"I'm curious, actually, you were there at Harlem. You were a part of the clean-up team to handle the destruction caused by the Hulk." Which had been the cover story; Banner had been used as a scapegoat to save face for the military. It was, she suspected, the only reason why Ross still had his job and Blonsky hadn't been locked up in a lab somewhere.
"Not exactly how I recall it, but sure. So what?" She bit back, her temper short and testy as the painkillers continued to wear off and she became more aware of the damage done to her body.
"Banner is, as you know, a fugitive of justice." The man kept his tones conversational but Nicole knew when she was threatened. "Anyone who would, say, withhold his location if they knew would be willingly aiding and abetting a terrorist. That is a capital offense."
So that was his game. SHIELD–namely her until a few months ago–had been keeping quite a few people off of Banner's trail, including a mess of governments that hers happened to fall under. Blonsky wasn't wrong, what she was doing could technically be considered as treason but Nicole had done much more ethically questionable things in her life. And as one of the few people who actually knew the truth about what had happened in Harlem, she was less than charitable to the man who was slowly circling in closer to her.
"It is." She agreed. "Did you read that straight out of the manual? I always found those things to be too long and boring to pay much attention to."
Blonsky quirked an eyebrow, the corner of his lips twitching in what might have been a smile if she didn't know any better.
"Let's not be coy, Agent Dugan." He growled suddenly, leaning in close. "We both know that you know where Banner is hiding."
Nicole chewed on her lower lip, resisting the instinctive urge to press back against the wall to get away from him. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about. As you said, if I did know and kept it from the proper authorities I would be a traitor to the state."
Only an idiot would buy the bullshit streaming from her mouth, but Nicole offered Blonsky a cocky smirk that had the international marine gritting his teeth in sudden anger. And ever so subtly she saw the shift behind his eyes, the twisting of something that wasn't quite human, something that should have never existed in the first place.
She was painfully reminded of the fact that she was alone with an extremely volatile individual and her body wasn't running on all pistons.
Nicole would be a liar if she said that she wasn't at least, slightly, worried.
"We can't prove anything right now, Agent Dugan." His tone dropped into a lethal purr, his hands on either side of her chair as he glowered down at her. "But we will find Banner whether you want to help us or not. This will end easier for you, however, if you just cooperate."
Her spine stiffened at the threat, and Nicole met his gaze unflinchingly. "I'm sorry, sir, but I was just assigned to help the clean-up effort. I have no idea where Dr. Banner disappeared to."
They stared at each other in a silent battle of wills, and Nicole refused to look away. To do so would be like admitting that she was hiding something, and if she did that then she had no doubt Blonsky would leap on the weakness and tear her apart.
"Well, I've got the–oh, hello Sir." And then the moment was broken as the paramedic returned, bandages in one hand and a bottle of what looked like antibiotic cream in the other. "Just checking up on our patient?"
Like a switch flipping, Blonsky blinked and pulled back, a tight smile on his face. "Wanted to make sure that nobody was hurt too badly. But, it looks like Agent Dugan is going to be just fine."
The paramedic had to have picked up on the tense atmosphere of the room, but he didn't let it faze him in the slightest. Instead he just shrugged a shoulder before reclaiming his seat. "Absolutely, though I suggest you take a little time off of your feet to get some R&R."
Nicole didn't respond as she watched Blonsky edge towards the door. Just as he was about to leave he threw one last, dark look at her.
A less than subtle promise that this–whatever this was–wasn't over.
"Well that was odd." The paramedic murmured almost to himself. "That guy gives me the creeps."
"No kidding." One thing was for damn certain, she needed to make a call to Phil as soon as she could get access to a secure line.
IOI
September 19, 2011, Location: 49 Warren Street, Atlanta GA
"Steve." Nicole hissed, her head hanging over the side of the bed as she watched the lump sprawled out on the air mattress. "Are you up?"
"It's kind of hard to sleep with you bouncing around all over the place." Steve grumbled by way of answer, dragging the blanket up over his head. "What time is it?"
"Um…" She rolled over to check the alarm clock, pushing a pillow out of the way. "It's a quarter past eight."
"And you're actually awake?" He pushed the blankets down to stare at her in disbelief. "Did you even get any sleep?"
She scoffed at that; the bedhead should be answer enough. "Yes, I slept. Contrary to popular belief blondie I can wake up early… typically not willingly, but it's been known to happen."
Steve looked unimpressed, sitting up on the air mattress and arching a skeptical brow. He was such a mother hen sometimes, it was both ridiculous and annoying.
"Okay, I was asleep. Honest. But then I got a call from HQ." Chauncey lifted his head off of his paws when Nicole pushed herself into an upright position, demanding attention now that she was awake. "Not a big deal, just some questions that I could answer… I tried going back to sleep, but my brain was like 'psh, nope'."
"And instead of going outside to do something… you decided that I had to suffer with you?" His jaw creaked with a yawn as he pushed a hand through his hair in a vain attempt to smooth it. "Very nice, Dugan."
She snorted at that; he had a point, mornings weren't exactly her cup of tea. Granted that didn't stop May or Coulson from calling her in to work bright and early. It was only a matter of time until Nicole actually figured out how to survive mainlining caffeine right into her veins… or she snapped and strangled an annoying recruit.
One or the other.
Receiving a phone call at six in the morning for an update on Dr. Banner's location was not how she'd planned on waking up. Spending an hour on both her laptop and her phone tracking the physicist using access to SHIELD satellites and a logarithm she'd perfected to pick up on Gamma traces. After the little discussion back at the Department that she'd had with Blonsky, it was plain as day that Ross would be picking up the chase again, and apparently last night the General had made his move.
A private sector military force had infiltrated a small farm on the coastal outskirts of rural China at 7:28 pm–eastern time zone–based off an anonymous tip regarding a man who was not a man, but a monster. What they had found was an abandoned homestead with several burned papers and the remains of a test on possible neutralizers of gamma radiation. SHIELD had been on clean up as soon as they'd gotten word of it, her team moving in under Romanoff's improvised leadership. Fury had assigned his top agent to pick up where she'd left off as soon as Nicole herself had been reassigned to keep an eye on Steve. She's passed her knowledge on to Natasha, and the Black Widow was definitely more than capable, but as soon as they'd established that Banner had not been taken into custody Nicole had been called to find him.
She may as well have been sorted into Hufflepuff, with how good she was at finding things.
Dr. Banner, she had informed Coulson at precisely 6:57 this morning, was currently licking his wounds and settling down in Calcutta.
Nicole had tried going back to sleep after that, she really had. She'd been having a rather lovely dream where she had been trapped in a candy store with Bill Nye and they'd spent their time eating gummy bears and testing how much instantaneous force jawbreakers could withstand. Alas, it was a dream that was not meant to be, and Nicole had spent the remaining hour or so tossing and turning in bed before she decided to see if Steve was up.
Evidently he had not been.
"Come on, we have the house to ourselves." Her parents were at work, and would be until roughly five, and her grandfather had already left for the airport to pick up her aunt and uncle. She had heard everybody getting up and moving around, as well as the debate about whether or not to ask herself and Steve to join them. Not that she minded the fact that they'd been passed up; as she'd been lying in bed she'd been thinking about what they could do with their day.
"Where is everyone?" Steve questioned, one arm propped up on his knee.
"Well, mom's at work, Jack's at work." She pushed Chauncey over gently so that she could rub his belly. "Papou went to the airport to pick up Mark, Ellen and the kids, you know, cuz their flight had gotten delayed."
The blonde climbed to his feet with another yawn, making it a few steps around his makeshift bed before dropping down on her mattress. It bounced twice under the sudden weight, and Nicole leaned against her friend as she rested her cheek on the back of his shoulder. She felt a little guilty then, for waking him up early; his sleeping schedule had been improving, yes, but Nicole knew that she could be an absolute bear when she didn't get enough rest.
"Oh, relax Dugan." Steve must have seen the expression on her face and read her mind, because he was reaching up to flick her nose. "I was awake anyway. I just like teasing you."
She recoiled at that, swatting at his back while Chauncey launched the assault on his otherwise unoccupied hand. "Evidently. Something common in all of my friends, it seems."
"You mean you have other friends?" Steve gasped incredulously, dissolving into a fit of coughing laughs when Nicole whacked him harder.
She did have other friends, thank you very much. Granted, the problem was that most of them were through work and therefore with the exception of phone calls and skype chats, she didn't have the opportunity to speak to them that often. She still talked to her old college roommate Cassidy, had actually stopped by to visit her when she had been sent out to California, but that was the exception. Cassidy was a freelance artist who had moved out to the west coast in the hopes of broadening her horizons.
As of their last conversation, Cass was in a happy relationship and was looking into opening her own gallery.
"Shush." Nicole rolled off of her bed, making a half-assed attempt to smooth out her covers before grabbing her brush off of the dresser. "Let's go get breakfast, I have a project that I need your help on."
Steve watched as she dragged the bristles through her hair, wincing slightly when it caught on the tangles. "Am I getting an option on helping?"
"Nope!" She answered brightly sweeping the curls into a high bun on the top of her head as her long fingers tucked the spare strands out of her face.
The idea had come to her at some point between wanting to kill Coulson for waking her up and wanting to kill Ross for the sake of principality. Nicole had been lying in bed, looking out her window into the back yard, when her eyes had narrowed on the structure sitting in the large laurel oak down towards the tree line.
The tree house was a remarkably simple structure, circular and radiating out from around the main trunk of the tree to settle neatly amongst the limbs. It was mostly hidden from view, with a narrow stairwell wrapping around the trunk for access; it had been built by adults, for adults. The treehouse itself had been there before her mom and Jack had moved in, and Nicole had spent some much enjoyed bonding time with her step-father fixing it up.
Time and neglect had degraded it, as it does all things, but she believed that there was some hope for redemption. Some hope that a little effort could reclaim a piece of her past.
Steve followed her out of her room and into the now empty house, the bedroom door opening and providing Chauncey a much appreciated release to the mud room and subsequent doggy door. Nicole watched her dog dart off, impressed that such little legs could move so quickly, before her stomach made a less than subtle protest for food.
Once upon a time–when she was like twelve–she might have been embarrassed by the fact that Steve had heard the noise, and started laughing, but life in the barracks at Ops had long since cured her of any lingering modesty.
"Shut up." She growled in faux annoyance, skidding across the hardwood floors in her socks. "Do you want a cup of coffee?"
"Don't I always?" Came the reply, making Nicole grin as she checked the machine. Common habit in her house, one that had carried over to the apartment and single living, was that after the last cup of coffee was drank, that person had to replace the water and grounds so that it would be easy to make a new pot.
Nicole watched as the drip machine powered up with a spurt of steam–it was a higher end model–before she spun on her heel and frowned at the cabinets. "I wonder if we still have any Raisin Bran…"
"What a responsible, grown up cereal choice. I'm surprised you don't want more Lucky Charms." Steve was in the process of getting down two matching bowls, ceramic and square with a red exterior and a black interior. They were at odds with the rest of the décor of the kitchen, which was sleek and sophisticated, but to Nicole that made them all the better. Mostly because it was the one thing she'd been allowed to pick out for the new house.
It was sad that she had gotten so excited about dishes.
"More a matter of circumstance I'm afraid; my mother does not support my love of 'childish breakfast foods'. Or my love of candy. She'd have a heart attack if she found out that I brought something so sugary and awful into her house." The redhead explained, lifting open the cabinet.
Sure enough the boxes were all mature and bland, none of her favored brands.
"I'm surprised you didn't just sneak a box in, like you did at the hotel." The blonde noted, the corner of his lips lifted in a slight smirk.
Nicole snorted at that, taking the spoon out of her mouth as she poured some of the milk into her cereal. "Uh, yeah. See, you say that because you haven't seen my mother when she's mad. I'm pretty sure that if I had the audacity to bring the blacklisted cereal into her house she would rip my spine out and beat me with it."
"And," The redhead paused for a moment to slide over the milk, "Probably manage to look fabulous while doing so. Also, get mad at me for the mess."
"Who, Emily?" He looked at her disbelievingly. "She's a sweetheart."
"To you!" Her mother was always incredibly nice to guests at their house. "But you haven't lived with her. She's got this scary power where she just looks at you and you want to apologize for something… even if you didn't do anything!"
The look on his face said that he didn't believe her, and Nicole wasn't surprised in the slightest. Very few people truly grasped how viciously motherly her mother could be, and that was because few of her friends were exposed to that silent judgment.
"Ach, never mind." She waved her hands, spooning some of the cereal into her mouth as she went to the now complete coffee. They were silent for a few moments afterwards, the only noise in the entire house the sound of pouring liquids.
"So what is this project that I'm being conscripted to help with?" Steve asked curiously as he accepted his cup.
Nicole pulled the spoon out of her mouth, shifting her weight as her knee started to ache, and used it to stir the now mocha colored liquid. "Yeah, I was thinking of taking a look at the tree house, see if it can be fixed up."
"Ah." Was all he said, and she looked up to find that his blue eyes were fixed thoughtfully on the remaining cheerios in his bowl. "Okay."
"The truck should probably be in the garage still, and there are plenty of tools in the shed." Rubbing her nose, Nicole balanced the cup in one hand as she settled herself down at the breakfast bar instead of the table. "I know enough that we should be able to tackle whatever's wrong. I hope."
"You hope?" He was giving her that look again, it was the look that a lot of people actually wound up giving her…
The one that said he was wondering how she managed to make it to adulthood.
It was a question that she had asked herself frequently in the past, to be completely honest.
"Yeeeeees." Nicole dragged the word out, wrinkling her nose as she glared at him. "I can't make any definitive statements until I take a look at it, okay?"
"Getting defensive? I'm not entirely surprised you've always been cranky in the mornings." Steve blinked up innocently over the rim of his mug, and if it weren't for the fact that she couldn't see his mouth Nicole would have punched him for the shit-eating grin that she knew he was wearing.
How people had ever gotten into their heads that Steve Rogers was some sort of saintly white-knight was beyond her. He was a little shit head, plain and simple.
"I swear to God, Steve. I'm going to murder you. Straight up, stone cold, murder you." She warned, and even though it was an empty threat he could have at least had the common decency to pretend to be concerned.
"I'm quaking in my fuzzy bunny slippers." He offered less-than-helpfully. "Can I at least get changed before we start?"
"No, Steve. We have to do this right now, right this second." She threw a gesture to her own oversized shirt and shorts. "Exactly like this. In fact, don't even finish your breakfast. Right now. Let's go."
And there was the look again. Three times in the span of about an hour, Nicole wished she could say that it was a record but… May was still the reigning champ in that regard. Her previous SO had worn that same, completely exasperated and borderline homicidal, expression practically non-stop during her training. Granted, now that she thought about it Nicole realized that it really was a miracle that she had managed to make it to graduation without any serious life-threatening injuries.
"You're hilarious." The sarcasm was dripping from his tongue, and Nicole flashed her friend a cheeky smile.
She rinsed her bowl before stacking it in the sink to wash later—because while she was at home she had somehow managed to be assigned the role of dish washer—before pressing her back into the edge of the sink. "I know! Could have made it big as a comedian, really, but no. I decided that I wanted to punch people and uncover top secret government intelligence."
"Such a loss for humanity. Truly." He deadpanned, making the redhead snort.
Papou's stories hadn't even begun to prepare her for the snarky punk that was Steve Rogers. She had been aware right from the start that he wasn't the saintly persona the media had made him out to be—after all, it wouldn't do for the general public to know that their sentinel of liberty had been arrested multiple times—but Steve was more sass than she'd had from anyone in a long time. And that was including the work she had done with Coulson as well as the missions she had been on with Barton.
Hell, if the two didn't dislike each other so much Nicole would say that Steve could go toe-to-toe with Tony in the sarcasm department.
"Your words wound me, le capitaine." She snorted, "I'm going to go get changed. Meet me outside whenever you're done."
Receiving only a grunt in reply Nicole retraced her steps from this morning back to the bedroom. Pushing open her door, she zeroed in on the dresser that was currently housing her clothes, mind wandering as it was known to do.
Her mom had given her the guest list for the party, and it was a very good thing that they had a large yard because there were a lot of names on that list. And a lot of names meant a lot of vehicles, so they would need to figure out parking. The garage was large enough to hold four vehicles, meaning that they had a large enough driveway, but Nicole suspected that they would have to repurpose the yard on the other side of the structure for parking. Which was the same thing that they'd done for her graduation party.
They had already found a company—Ocean's—to do the design as well as the catering, which would be a huge load of responsibility off of her mother's shoulders. They would be showing up bright and early on Saturday to make sure that everything was set up before the guests started arriving at two. There wasn't going to be much of an actual theme, however there would be lots of activities for the kids, as well as a little more sophisticated open bar for the adults. They would need to get out the outdoor games, and Nicole was hoping to get the treehouse fixed up so that she wouldn't have to explain to all of her cousins why they couldn't get in it.
Granted, she would need to make sure that the little ones didn't try anyway; the treehouse was roughly fifteen feet off of the ground and while there were railings and banisters in place they didn't want any of the kids falling and hurting themselves. The structure had been built for adults anyway.
In truth she wanted it fixed so that she would have a place to hide out in case her family got to be too much… which was not improbable considering the fact that there would be alcohol involved.
There was a laundry list of chores that would need to be done before Saturday; the yard needed a thorough inspection and cleaning up, lights would need to be set up around the perimeter of where it was acceptable to go after dark, and of course the fire-pit needed cleaned out and wood stocked. She wouldn't actually consider a low of 59 cold—not even chilly—but then she was used to living up north and by the seas where the temperature would be getting into the single digits come winter. Her family, who was accustomed to the balmy temperatures, would definitely find it a little uncomfortable.
Unfortunately for Nicole, as both her mom and Jack had work until Saturday that meant that she was put in charge of making sure that everything was ready.
She was more in a state of denial currently about the amount of work she needed to do and was using the treehouse as an escape.
Nicole grabbed a change of clothes out of her drawers, disappearing into the in suite bathroom so that she could brush her hair and her teeth as well as getting changed. She had selected a pair of older work out pants, they were form fitting and a light grey color to wear with a tye-dye tank top that she had made a few years ago. It was a little loose, and the hem was starting to fray, but it was a shirt that Nicole didn't particularly care whether or not it got damaged. As she pulled on a pair of socks, followed by her hiking boots, there was a hesitant knock on the door.
"I'm decent, I promise." Nicole called with a slight smirk, failing to resist the urge to roll her eyes.
It made almost no sense to her; she had grown up with almost no privacy. SHIELD had watched her from the day she had unlocked her powers until her sixteenth birthday religiously, so the concept of modesty was hard to wrap her brain around. And then, not even two years later, she had enrolled at the Academy to become a field agent, staying in the barracks with literally dozens of other trainees in between her time at college. After she had graduated and been sent out into the field–which had happened a lot quicker than most of the other level ones–there had been more than a few situations where she'd needed to get comfortable with individuals to successfully carry out a mission.
Suffice it to say that Nicole had seen more naked bodies in the last eight years than she wanted to think about, so it still came as a surprise with how modest Steve was. Not that it should, he was a 1930's man with 1930's sensibilities; he had been iffy about sharing an apartment with her.
Granted, that was as much a matter of circumstance as it was anything else.
"The truck is in the garage still." The blonde said, kneeling down next to his bag. "Any idea when Dum Dum will be back?"
That was… an excellent question.
"Uh, well, that depends on traffic–which can be shit–as well as whether or not they went to get breakfast." She answered, swiping a hand at her nose. "So I have no idea. But Papou has the spare key, so he should be fine to get in if we lock up."
"And if we get back before them?" Steve paused to study her curiously on his way to the bathroom.
Nicole quirked an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a barely smirk. "Do you really think I need a key?"
She had received all sorts of training to prepare her for the field; hand-to-hand, marksmanship, tactical operations and strategy, hell they'd even made her take a tactical driving course. And that was just the basics to make sure that she didn't get herself killed in an all-out gunfight. Nicole had also learned politics–which had been boring as hell–and international law, several foreign languages including but not limited to German, Spanish, American Sign Language and some moderately rusty Russian. Then came the fun things she had mastered; espionage training, ballroom dancing and, of course, lock picking.
Thanks to SHIELD, Nicole knew how to kill a man in over one hundred ways with her bare hands, pick just about any lock, and sneak into any building.
"Fair enough." Steve had known her long enough to realize that it wasn't an empty boast. Not to mention the fact that she had once accidentally locked them out of the apartment and had needed to pick the lock to get them back in… but Nicole preferred not to think about that embarrassing moment. "Give me like five minutes."
"I'm gonna head outside and get a feel for what we're dealing with." She answered. She bounced to her feet, the thick soles of her boots providing enough resistance so that there was an extra spring in her movements. This was what she missed about having time off; the opportunity to pursue projects of her own interest. Granted, most of the time that Nicole was between operations she used that time for independent research in SHIELD's chemistry labs. The high-tech equipment was certainly nothing to turn her nose up at, and she had actually managed to synthesize a few new sedatives for use, but… well, this was different.
This was a project that was in no way, shape, or form related to anything that had to deal with SHIELD and it allowed Nicole to work with her hands. She missed working with her hands to actually build something.
Nicole Dugan was actually pretty great with her hands—and there was a dirty joke in there somewhere—and almost everyone at SHIELD knew it; all of the small problems that had a tendency to accrue in safe houses miraculously ended up fixed when she left them. It stemmed from living on her own a lot and making her own repairs, as well as hiding low in safe houses that hadn't been used in a long time because SHIELD agents typically weren't sent to the locations she went to.
Right now she was more than excited with the prospect of doing something productive with her time.
Even at nine o'clock, or thereabouts anyway, the sun was already up and it was already warm outside. Not so warm, however, that there wasn't the tell-tale glisten of dew on the grass and moisture on her boots as she made her way out from the shaded patio, past the garden with its now repaired lattice work and out to the tree line that was more than a few acres away from the house.
Chauncey abandoned his hot pursuit of his favorite blue ball to chase after her, his entire body streaking across the yard as he let out a happy little yap. Nicole paused as her dog came skidding to a stop, his short legs losing their balance in the slick grass and resisted the urge to squeal as she was struck with how adorable he was. She had always loved corgi's, and as soon as her mom had shown her the wriggling little puppy with the ears that he had never quite grown into and the happy little stub of a tail her heart had been stolen. That had been four years ago, and though he had handled his training well, Chauncey was still very much a puppy at heart.
Watching him play in the yard made her feel a little guilty; she tried to make sure that she took him out for exercise every day, but her dog still spent most of his time in their apartment. One day she wanted to have an actual house of her own, somewhere with a nicely sized yard—not as big as this one but wouldn't that be great?—where Chauncey could play to his heart's content… somewhere she could get more pets, maybe another dog or, possibly, a cat.
Unfortunately for her, Fury had a tendency to send her out on a lot of operations that kept her out and about for a few days at a time if she was lucky and much longer if she wasn't. In fact, this was currently her longest running assignment to date; Fury expected her to stay for at least six months, but he was projecting it to take a year before Steve was fully ready to return to the field.
"Hi buddy!" She cooed down at her dog, bending low to scratch that one spot just under his chin that he absolutely loved. "Such a good boy! I bet you're enjoying all of this sun and space!"
He sat down on her foot, tongue lolling out just enough that he could lick her hand. Taking that as confirmation enough, Nicole beamed as she carefully rolled her dog off of her foot. He didn't seem to mind much, happily trotting after her as she made her way down to the huge tree that was currently hiding the treehouse.
They had twenty three acres of land, the majority of which was dominated by forest with the exception of the developed area around the house. The laurel oak wasn't the largest tree on their property—that title currently belonged to a huge red oak down towards the back left corner of the property that housed several families of squirrels, but it was large enough to completely mask the features of the structure.
Pulling the pen out of her hair that she'd snatched from the laundry room, Nicole twirled it in her fingers as she adjusted her hold on the clipboard in her hands. The spiraling stairwell that wrapped around the tree trunk, with plenty of room to spare for included growth, looked like it had been conceptualized right out of the forest of Lothlorien the way the designs had been carved into the railing. It looked a little worn down, no doubt from the fact that it hadn't been used since the last time she'd been home from college.
Nicole climbed up the steps, her eyes trained on the cracked wooden planks as she made careful note of which ones were in desperate need of replacing, which ones would probably need replaced, and which ones would probably be able to last with some new sealant and stain. The deck was in less than thrilling condition, and there were a few broken limbs scattered against the area.
Nicole tested her weight on the wood, pressing down against it as she bent down to collect the branches. "Fire in the hole!"
"Hey! Watch it!" Steve called back as she pitched the limbs over the side of the railing that was cracked and had several holes in it.
Fix railing; 1" X 4" lumber. She scribbled down underneath the tally of wood that would be necessary to fix the stairs.
"Careful on your way up, some of the steps are shot." She shouted in response, grimacing at the grimy fold up chairs. "Dropping some chairs!"
She could hear him on the stairs and, setting down the clipboard, Nicole grabbed the chairs and tried not to grimace when water started leaking out of the metal joints.
Okay, that's gross. Which was saying something, considering the fact that she had seen someone get their head blown off right in front of her.
"You got to work fast." The blonde noted, his sudden appearance behind her making Nicole jerk the next chair. The result was a splash of rusty brown water on her arm and she couldn't help the low groan that ripped from her throat.
"Ew…" She swung the light chair over the railing, watching as it knocked against a branch before crashing on the way down. "Where's my dog?"
"I brought him back inside, don't worry. So what's the damage so far?" Steve replied, blue eyes dropping to the clip board.
"Not too bad." Nicole answered. "Though if nobody's been up here since 2008, and the roof is damaged from the storm, I suspect a lot of the interior furniture is going to need to be replaced."
The screen door wobbled on its hinges when she grabbed the handle—those would need to be tightened—but at least the mechanism that kept it from swinging shut still worked. The interior of the tree house smelled musty and moldy, the odor of damp fabric mixing with wood that was in serious need of treatment. Most of the light filtered in from the windows, though she was relieved to see that only one had been broken. The glass was still standing strong in the others. There was a small bit of dappled sunlight streaming in from the roof, where there were a few holes in the structure and, unsurprisingly there were more broken branches and decaying leaves on the floor.
"It could be worse." Steve mused optimistically, his words mirroring her thoughts.
He's not wrong. She thought to herself, brown eyes scanning the open, circular space of the treehouse.
They had their work cut out for them, sure, but with a little hard work between the two of them Nicole was certain that they could get it all done within a day.
IOI
Diagnosis: Several of the steps needed to be replaced, the railing on the deck needed fixed, the window had to be replaced—which would be handled as soon as they could contact a glass company because Nicole had no idea how to fix that and Steve had no experience—and there was a hole in the roof. They needed new shingles, wood sealant, and fresh waterproofing stain, as well as several different cuts of lumber.
There was also more than a little bit of trash that had been pitched out over the side and was littered around the trunk of the tree on the ground.
Right now Nicole was at the hardware store for the second time in as many days with Steve, watching as the employee began scanning the barcodes of all of their items. Their cashier looked to be a few years older than them, with wildly curly dark hair and equally dark eyes, dark eyes that kept drifting up to glance over Steve when he wasn't paying attention.
Nicole bit back a smirk at that, nipping at the inside of her cheek as she covertly studied the woman. She had to admit, their cashier—Noelle as her nametag revealed—was rather quite lovely; her eyes were big and round, and her cheekbones accented her heart shape face flawlessly. And the woman's voice had a husky deepness to it that Nicole felt she could fall asleep listening to.
If it weren't for the fact that she had absolutely no interest in dating at the moment—and the fact that Noelle was obviously interested in Steve—Nicole herself might have tried striking up a flirty conversation. As it was, she just smiled politely as she swiped her credit card to pay for their supplies. Supplies that would be loaded up into the bed of Jack's old pickup that she had lovingly dubbed Ol' Shakey when she'd first started learning how to drive in it.
Cuz if y'can drive this big ol' hunk of junk, you'll have no problem maneuverin' something smaller. Nicole could still hear Jack's voice in the back of her head, could still remember the bundle of nerves and excitement as she slid behind the driver's seat and had powered up the old engine for the first time.
"Should be everything, I think." Steve's musings drew her out of her thoughts, and Nicole blinked a few times as her gaze focused.
She hadn't realized that she'd been staring intently at the stack of stain on the trolley. "I suspect you're right. And we have all day to work on this… because I want to dodge my responsibilities."
"Hm?" Steve made a curious humming noise in his throat, pushing the trolley out of the huge doors and to where the truck was waiting, clearly waiting for elaboration.
"Well, the yard and house need cleaned up for the party. I also have to dig out and dust off all of the outdoor games and stuff that are hiding somewhere in the attic of the garage. Plus the fire-pit needs the ashes cleaned out of it and the wood needs restacked, not to mention the decorations and off limits boundaries. But that stuff can wait until later in the week." She explained, lowering the tailgate and hopping into the bed. "Since the parents have work all week, I'll be handling most of the physical preparations. Mom still has all the answers, so she'll be taking the questions from family."
"Questions?" Steve passed up the wood–and she swore there was a dirty joke in that somewhere too–with a confused look on his face. "How hard could it possibly be?"
Oh to be that innocent again.
"Well, there's the question of what kind of gift to bring, when to show up–a lot of people forget that one–whether it's acceptable to bring food, what kind of party it is, attire, how late is acceptably late… not to mention everyone who calls to chat or just stops by." She had a big family, a very big family, and it was never a dull moment.
To be honest Nicole was looking forward to the party if only to watch as Steve got overwhelmed by all of the women in her family. It would be payback for the two hours over dinner he had spent making fun of her hair on the first night they had arrived.
"Truth be told, I'm a little glad that mom is handling the family." They had moved to the stain, and Nicole let each can pass through her hands before she neatly stacked it so that it wouldn't slide around too much.
"I thought you loved them." There was a dryness to his words as Steve watched her, passing things over as she loaded the pickup.
Nicole sat down on the edge, resting her elbows on her knees as she pushed a strand of her hair out of her face. "I do, but it can be draining. Same way I feel about people in general really; I like them, with a few exceptions, and I don't mind dealing with them, but I always need time to decompress and recharge afterwards."
"So you're a little introverted." The blonde nodded slightly to himself, lifting the tailgate with a dull thump. "I'm not surprised. You were pretty tired after we left DC, though I figured that had more to do with being attacked."
Nicole pressed her lips into a thin line, one that Steve didn't quite notice as she twisted around to drop onto the pavement. She had been ready to scream after what had happened in DC, but it had been a combination of things. Tony was… a small part of it; he was annoying, sure, but if she were strongly pressed Nicole would have to admit that it sort of was like dealing with an annoying sibling than anything else. It was mostly the press coverage afterwards, the attack, and dealing with Ross. Not that Steve had any idea that the General had tried to corner her while she was getting patched up by the paramedics, nor did she ever plan on telling him.
As far as Nicole was concerned, it was her problem and she could deal with it on her own.
"I'm a bit of both, and I swing in between the extremes." She said after a few moments, walking over to her side. "Ambivert I think is the scientific term."
"How do you know so much about all of… well so many things?" The truck rumbled to life again, the engine well maintained and newer in spite of the classic casing. Nicole threw a half-smile to her friend as she buckled her seatbelt, grabbing the clutch.
"Same way you learn about anything; I asked questions." She hadn't driven stick in so long, and she knew that she was rusty, but it was sort of like riding a bicycle in that she had never really forgotten. "I mean, I didn't have access to the internet so it wasn't as easy as it is now, but I spent a lot of time in the library. And SHIELD is full of so many people, Steve, every single one is different and unique in their own way and they have so much knowledge. I was lucky in a way; by the time I had gotten to college my horizons had already been expanded and my mind opened."
Her smile widened, cheeks lifting as the corners of her eyes crinkled in genuine happiness. "I love meeting new people, learning new things. That's why I'm so good at my job; Romanoff is an expert at espionage and undercover work because she can slip in and out of personas like a costume, but I'm the diplomat, the negotiator. I'm the one that can reach people on their level and connect with them."
It was why she had been given the types of missions she had; she was the one that did the protection details, the one that kept an eye on the important characters and made sure that nothing bad happened to them. Nicole had always had a protective nature about her, and once upon a time, when she'd considered spending her life in Asgard, it had been that nature that had compelled her to go through the formal training to become a guardian of the realms.
It was why her codename in SHIELD was the Sentinel.
"And you got stuck babysitting me." He tried to keep lightness in his words, tried to keep them from sounding bitter but Nicole saw right through it. She had known him long enough to pick up on the slight nuances of his voice, the smallest shift in his body language.
Unthinkingly she reached out to squeeze his arm. "And it's the best assignment I've ever been given, Rogers."
His blue eyes danced over to her for a brief second before he scoffed. "Yeah right. You could be anywhere in the world right now, meeting new people and doing what you do best and instead you're here."
"Yeah, Steve." She returned her hand to the clutch to shift gears, eyes scanning the traffic before drifting to the rear-view mirror to check their load. "I'm getting paid to hang out with one of my heroes. Someone who has some pretty great life stories to share, someone who's hilarious, snarky as shit, and all around awesome. I'd say that even being given the chance is damn incredible. So stop being so melodramatic and smile, you're starting to look like a grumpy little storm cloud."
He opened his mouth to say something, pausing halfway through as the corner of his lips lifted and he was grinning ruefully. "Sorry… I guess I'm just not used to having so much free time anymore. It feels like there should be more that I'm doing, instead of just wasting our time."
Nicole was reminded of something she had discussed with Phil a few weeks ago. Dr. Cross felt, in her professional opinion, that Steve suffered from at the very least mild depression. And though she didn't go into depth any of the personal details about why, she had outlined some of the symptoms and Nicole had started pinning them to her friend's actual habits. And this was one of them; Steve's biggest problem with not being out in the field was that he felt guilty about it.
As though he had some sort of obligation to be saving the word without rest. People had died so that he had the opportunity to be more than that sick, asthmatic kid from Brooklyn and therefore he owed them something. Try as she might, it wasn't easy to convince him that his life had an intrinsic value all its own, and he didn't have to define himself by what other people thought of him.
"You are not–and I wish that I wasn't driving right now so I could actually talk to you about this. Steve, listen to me. And please actually listen." She stressed, a tone of urgency entering her voice.
Nicole paused to gather her thoughts, thinking back to a point in her history where she had been in his situation and it had been Trip that was trying to talk to her.
Squashing the sudden longing she felt for her childhood friend, and making a decision that she would try and skype or call him later, Nicole thrummed her fingers against the steering wheel in a nervous gesture. "You are my friend, okay. So don't think that you're wasting my time, ever, because you most definitely are not. I have loved every single minute that I've known you–even when I have to go on an intense hunt for your laundry, or check the pockets to make sure that you didn't accidentally leave a charcoal pencil in your pocket again–and nothing is ever going to change that."
"Quite frankly, I don't give a single fuck about what Captain America should be doing." When they eased up to the stop light, Nicole used the pause to pin him with an intent look. "I care about Steven Grant Rogers, the nerd who likes his coffee black, the punk who got almost got arrested for falsifying his enlistment documents, and the pancake who nags me for my poor life choices. You, blondie. So don't think that you're wasting my time, or anyone's time because you need to take the time to get your bearings together."
His blue eyes were wide as she pursed her lips, and Steve looked a little overwhelmed and mildly alarmed.
"You saved the damn world, Steve, so I daresay that you deserve as much downtime as you want. And I understand that downtime isn't exactly your thing, but you don't owe anyone a damn thing." She let out an exhale, already on the downswing of her little speech. "So trust me when I say that I am not babysitting you, and nobody expects you to be right back out in the middle of combat right now."
And then the light turned green and they were off again, turning from the main road and into the more domestic part of Atlanta. The only noise was the rumble of the pickup, ever present under the low chords from the radio. Steve had a pensive look on his face, though every now and then his lips would twitch slightly.
"You sounded a lot like Bucky, just then." The phrase was so low that Nicole almost missed it, but it succeeded in bringing a slight smile to her face.
"Yeah?" He looked back over at her then, and his expression was infinitely lighter than it had been the entire drive back from Lowe's.
"Yeah." Steve confirmed, resting his arm out the window. "He used to call me out on my shit a lot too. Thanks for that, by the way. It's nice to have someone who treats me like, well, me. Before the plane crash, just about everyone outside of Peggy and the Commandoes just treated me like this larger than life idol. Same way at SHIELD now, always the hero worship."
"Well in their defense…" They turned onto Warren Street, and Nicole could see the pristine mailbox that signaled their yard. "Someone really wanted our initials to spell SHIELD."
Hell, the entire organization had been founded on the ideals of Captain America, and–more importantly–the morals of Steve Rogers.
"Suppose I should feel honored." He snorted, dragging a hand down his face. "Still it's nice to be treated like a normal person."
"I don't know that I'd call you normal–you drink black coffee after all–but hell, blondie, we're all fucking weird here." She chuckled, backing in as close to the back yard fence as she could manage. The steel grey SUV was already parked, meaning that her grandpa must have returned from the airport. Not that Nicole was overly surprised, considering the fact that it was nearly eleven o'clock by now.
Steve shoved her lightly as she unbuckled his seatbelt, rolling his eyes in a familiar and friendly way. "And there you go again Dugan, killing the moment."
"It's what I do best!" She threw him the most evil grin that she could manage. "Now, back to work with us Igor."
The best that Nicole could do as she climbed out of the truck and unlocked the fence to go get the wheelbarrow from the shed, was hope that at least some of her words had sunk in. Not that a few compliments–no matter how heartfelt and true they were–could act as some sort of miracle cure, but the redhead hoped that at the very least it would make Steve feel a little bit better. He was her friend, after all, and Nicole knew she had a nurturing personality. She didn't like when the people she cared about were suffering whether it was physically or emotionally, and it was just in her nature to try and make it better.
When she returned ready to load up some of the lumber to find Steve ready with the tailgate down and an almost eager expression on her face she felt a knot start to loosen in her stomach. She couldn't say for certain that everything was fine, but for now at least something had sunk in and he no longer looked like a grumpy storm cloud. In fact, he looked just as excited to be doing something with his hands as she was.
"You sure we can fit all of this in that?" He asked, frowning at the parameters of the wheelbarrow.
"We're not going far." The redhead answered. "The wood has to be treated and cut first. The list of all of the cuts that we need is already set up by the saw, and you made those very helpful diagrams, so we're only going as far as the work shed."
Which was where Jack kept most of his tools–and the pink set that belonged to her mother from when they'd lived on their own–including all of the saws that they could possibly need to cut out the steps.
"Also, my aunt and uncle are here, with my cousins Catalina–Katie–and Simon." She rolled the stain towards the tail end of the pickup, sliding the rest of their lumber down as well. "So I expect once they realize we're here they'll want introductions. Also, if Simon latches onto you don't panic, he's at a very affectionate stage in his young four year old life."
And Nicole knew for a fact that her little cousin was going to adore Steve, because he was basically the epitome of a tall, person shaped jungle-gym.
"I'll keep that in mind." Steve chuckled, stepping back and scooping up the bundle of one-by-fours and setting them on one shoulder before he grabbed some of the shorter planks of wood.
"Good. Now, let's get to work."