Summary: Steve rushes to rescue a woman but she might not need saving after all.
Warnings: mentions of: blood, stabbing, robbery gone wrong. Sam and Bucky being good bros, fluff, awkward/shy Steve, bad language.
W/C: 1.5k
Bingo: anyfandomgoesbingo Square Filled: Crime Fighting Duo.
Characters: Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, OC's.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC (Rosie)
The basketball game had been one for the Hall of Fame, and Steve, Sam, and Bucky had had courtside seats. The atmosphere had been electric as the Celtics won in a landslide, and the charge that had permeated the crowd didn't dissipate when they eventually poured out of the stadium, clogging both the sidewalk and streets with buzzing fans.
They'd taken a cab, but traffic was at a standstill, and they were so full of energy themselves, the boys decided to walk until they were out of the thick of it.
Sam and Bucky were discussing - or rather, arguing about - a bad call by one of the referees.
"It was a dirty move," said Bucky, for maybe the hundredth time. "The ref made the right call."
"It wasn't dirty, he was playing the game," Sam disagreed.
"You're just mad your favorite player got ejected." Bucky shrugged, smirking smugly, "Just goes to show that crime doesn't pay."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Fighting it doesn't pay much, either," he muttered.
"I dunno," said Steve, "we seem to be doing okay." He held up the swag bag they'd been given that contained signed merchandise.
Sam nodded agreement and jiggled his own bag but then looked to Bucky, "I still think that call was bogus…"
Steve knew Sam wasn't going to let it go, and both he and Bucky liked to argue. They would never come to an agreement and Steve was losing interest in the topic. He pulled ahead until the traffic muffled their voices.
He waited for them at the crosswalk, but when the light changed and they still hadn't caught up, Steve looked to the sky with a sigh. He expected to find them shoving at each other like children, but when he turned to look for them, he saw they were stationary, pointing down a nearby alleyway. Steve had passed it earlier without paying it any mind except to note the rickety partition discouraging passersby from wandering into it. What could possibly be down there? It had to be something significant to stop their childish bickering. A few other people milling around them were just as transfixed as Sam and Bucky. One of them, an elderly looking woman, gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
His feet carried him toward them without really registering he was moving.
"Guys," he called out. Neither of them heard him. Something was wrong, Steve could feel it.
That's when he heard a woman's blood curdling scream.
Steve didn't think. He reacted. He took off running, straight down the alleyway. He dropped his swag bag at the flimsy wooden barrier, which didn't hinder his pace in the slightest as he hopped over it. Somewhere in his peripheral, he heard Bucky call his name, but he didn't slow, too intent on delivering the help Sam and Bucky were apparently neglecting to provide.
Steve took in the scene as his legs carried him toward it. A body, clad head to toe in black, lay motionless on the cold, wet ground.
A blonde woman with blood stained hands, holding a large kitchen knife, swayed unsteadily beside it, staring wide eyed at the unmoving figure. Crimson began to stain her white blouse around her abdomen. Her bag and its contents were spilled around them, a robbery gone wrong, Steve suspected.
She must have heard his heavy foot fall because she looked up. Panic and fear drained the color from her face, but she stood firm, bracing herself as if she expected Steve to barrel right into her.
"What happened?" he asked, trotting to a stop in front of her, his hands out to show he came in peace.
"It's not what you think," she said and frantically looked around. "It's a-"
"It's okay, whatever it is, we'll work it out," he said, approaching her cautiously before placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She was probably in shock, not able to make sense of what had happened. "You're hurt," said Steve, grimacing on her behalf as he placed his other hand on her stomach to help stem the bleeding. "We need to get you some help." He tried to gently coax her toward a nearby wall where she could sit down before she fell down.
Sam and Bucky appeared by his side. "Great crime fighting duo you two make," Steve scolded, "Why were you just watching?"
Before they could answer, the door nearest to them opened with a loud bang as it hit the wall. Steve tensed, ready for anything... except the short, rotund guy that stepped out.
"Donnie," the woman said in a warning tone.
He pointed a finger in Steve's face and yelled, "You're fucking with my film, buddy!"
"Donnie, look at who it is."
Recognition dawned, and his face burst into a wide smile. His hand shot out to shake Steve's as he walked closer. "Captain America, oh my god!" said the man who was apparently named Donnie. Steve was suddenly shaking his clammy hand, struggling to process this turn of events, when he was startled by the once motionless body at their feet, which sprang to life and nodded at him amiably.
"Hi, Mr. Rogers." He smiled politely before turning to Donnie, who continued to shake Steve's hand, still bloody from his attempt to staunch the woman's stomach wound. "Donnie, man, I have a few concerns."
"Not now, Brandon." Donnie abruptly dropped Steve's hand and walked away with the corpse following close on his heels. "Reset, everyone!"
"Hey. What, um...what's going on?" Steve asked to no one in particular, glancing uncertainly at his damp and newly-liberated hand.
The sound of Sam and Bucky's hilarity broke through the commotion of people exiting a neighboring building with cameras and bright lights.
It was the woman who came to Steve's rescue now, stepping to his side to explain.
"Thank you for the assist, but it's all fake. We're filming a scene for a movie," she said, lifting her shirt to show her perfectly intact stomach. There were no stab wounds, but there was an unmistakable Steve-shaped hand print disrupting the red stain that bled across her skin. It wasn't just unbroken, it was flawless, and Steve couldn't help but notice and be impressed by the subtle definition of abs, highlighted by the fake blood. It wasn't until she dropped her shirt and he met her eyes that he realized he'd been staring perhaps a little too closely for too long. He felt his cheeks stain the same color as the fake blood.
"We tried to warn you," Bucky said from over his shoulder.
"Yeah, we saw the commotion," Sam added, "but then we noticed the cameras and lights sticking out the windows."
Steve had been so focused on the bloody scene, he hadn't looked upward. He groaned, scrunching his face in embarrassment. "I'm so sorry," he told the woman he'd thought he was rescuing.
"Don't be." She smiled and waved off his apology. "You were doing your job. It's good to know there're good people like you out there. I'm Rosie, by the way."
"Steve," he said, taking her offered hand.
This handshake, too, went on a little too long, but unlike the last one, Steve didn't mind. Even after the shaking stopped, their hands remained locked, like their gaze, until Bucky threw his arm around Steve's neck and Rosie broke the contact.
"Y'know, I think Steve needs to make it up to you," Bucky decided.
"Are you free for a drink tomorrow night?" asked Sam.
Rosie smiled, her cheeks heating up to match her name. "I am actually," she said, "I mean, if you want to," she was quick to add, the uncertainty making her smile drop. "I get it if the Crime Fighting Duo are just busting your balls."
"Hey," Sam objected, "we're fighting the crime that is the state of Cap's love life."
"No, no! I mean...yes, they are, but...yeah, I'd like that," Steve assured her with a shy smile. He shook Bucky's arm off his shoulder. "I'll leave these two knuckleheads at home, though," he chuckled.
"And I'll make sure to be a little less, um, bloody."
They smiled at each other until something seemed to occur to her, and she snagged the arm of a passing PA. She apologized to him as she commandeered his clipboard to scribble her number on the top page, tearing it off to pass to Steve.
"Um, I'll call you tomorrow," Steve said, eyes flickering from the piece of paper to her.
She smiled brightly, but before she could reply, Donnie yelled, "Rosie, I'm not paying you to flirt!"
She rolled her eyes but turned to wave an acknowledgment in his direction. "Sorry, I have to go," she said, backing away reluctantly, "but I'll see you tomorrow."
Steve nodded, perhaps a little too enthusiastically, but he was unable to stop his head from bobbing. He watched her walk away toward Donnie, and when she turned her back to him her hands slipped to the back pockets of her jeans, and she looked down at the floor. He imagined her biting her lip as she walked.
"See boys," he sighed, "fighting crime does pay."
End.