Hello All! This is my first Captain America fanfic so I need you guys to tell me if I'm portraying Steve right lol This idea just sprang up out of nowhere and I decided to write it down and share it with you all! I hope you guys enjoy! I love reviews and constructive criticisms, so let me know what you think :)
BTW in the last chapter, the song playing was "A Sentimental Journey" by Doris Day and Les Brown. The song in this chapter is "A Pocketful of Dreams" by Bing Crosby.
I will try to update regularly but I'm not making any promises. I have 2 more weeks left of summer break so I will try to get some more chapters in before school. Once school starts, the updates will become much less frequent. Just a fair warning beforehand
I do not own Captain America, only Charlie, Betty, and Nathan :)
Steve followed Betty, Nathan, and Charlie out of the small diner. Betty locked up while Nathan and Charlie circled around back. Steve grabbed his bike and pushed it through the mud after them. A small blue house with a white wrap-around porch came into view. It had two stories with two garden beds in front and the forest in the back.
"Home sweet home," Nathan smiled. He slapped Steve's shoulder and steered him towards the house. Steve set his bike against the porch and grabbed his small duffel bag. The stairs creaked as they climbed and the wood railing was soft under Steve's hand. The house obviously had wear but it was a homey wear, this house had been someone's home for a long time.
"Nattie, we need to fix the shutters before the next storm," Charlie said, wiggling a loose shutter. It fell off in her hand and she gave Nattie, Steve assumed that was Nathan, a look.
"I'll fix it…eventually," Nathan mumbled, opening the door and walking in. Charlie smiled and shook her head, setting the broken shutter on the porch. Steve walked in after Charlie and was met with a smell of lavender. The door opened up to a spacious living room that led into the kitchen. There was a door to his left that was closed but it looked like an office or extra room. Another door to his right led to a spare bedroom and stairs on the left led up to the second level.
"You'll be staying in this room. It's already set up as a guest room so you have your typical bed, nightstand, dresser, etc," Charlie opened the right door further and Steve poked his head in. There was a queen-sized bed in the middle with a dresser and another door to the left.
"That door leads to the bathroom. We'll have to share the bathroom because it's the only one on the first level. My bedroom is just past the bathroom," Charlie pointed.
"Thank you for letting me stay. I know I'm a stranger and this must be a huge inconvenience-"
"Steve," Charlie put her hand up, "Your welcome and it's not an inconvenience. We like having visitors stay with us. It adds something different to a normally routine day. You are welcome in our house." Charlie smiled reassuringly and Steve's mouth tipped into a grin.
"Thank you." Charlie nodded once more and then motioned with her head to follow him.
"Did you show him his room?" Betty asked. She stood next to Nathan in the living room with a smile on her face.
"Yep, he's all good to go," Charlie responded cheerily.
"Thank you again, for letting me stay Betty, Nathan," Steve said.
"Oh you are such a sweetie! You are very welcome!"
"We couldn't just let you sleep in the rain, now could we?"
"Well I mighty appreciate the kindness," Steve chuckled. Betty smiled and Nathan wrapped his arm around her. Looking at them, Steve couldn't see any of Betty or Nathan resembled in Charlie but they were definitely a family, no doubt about that. Just by the look in their eyes and their playful banter, they loved each other.
"Well, I'm off to bed and I suggest you two get to bed as well," Betty said in a motherly voice. Steve and Charlie mumbled "goodnights" and watched the two climb upstairs.
"I'm usually up pretty early so I'm sorry if I wake you up," Charlie apologized, turning to Steve.
"Don't worry about it. Just go about your normal routine and I'll try not to get in the way," Steve said. Charlie rolled her eyes and said, "You won't get in the way. Goodnight Steve." Steve chuckled a reply and walked back into the room that would be his for the night. He took off his shoes and looked around the room. Out of habit and perhaps a dash of paranoia, Steve walked around the room checking for bugs and any hidden dangers. He checked the window and made sure it was locked. Come on, there's nothing out there, Steve mentally chided himself. With a shake of his head and a sigh, Steve stripped to his underwear and crawled into the spacious bed. He shifted and rolled over a few times, finally settling on his back. He closed his eyes and let the tiredness in his bones drag him into sleep.
Steve woke up three hours later from a nightmare. He was panting slightly and it took his mind a minute to remember where he was. He sat up and groaned quietly into his hands. He could still see Bucky freefalling from the train and the terror that was written across his face. He could still feel the chill of the snow air and the rumble of the train as it sped away. Steve opened his eyes again, not wanting to replay the scene in his mind anymore than he had to. He stared at the shadows that danced across the ceiling and listened to the wind howl outside. Storm must've picked up again, Steve thought idly. The rain was a constant drumming that began to lull Steve to sleep. I hope I stay asleep, he thought before he was swept away to sleep.
A few hours later, Steve woke up again. After a few minutes he went back to sleep. However, he woke up three more times during the night because of a nightmare, the slightest sound, or the bed. The bed just wasn't right; Steve couldn't put his finger on it. The last time he woke up, the sky was just beginning to lighten and he couldn't stand lying in bed, trying to sleep. Steve rolled out of bed and put on a pair of jeans and a blue flannel shirt, tucked in. Steve ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. He slowly opened the door and winced when it creaked loudly. He stepped out into the living and slipped quickly into the bathroom. He washed his face and rubbed his neck, rolling the sleep from his shoulders. After a few minutes, Steve stepped out and froze. Now that he was up, what was he supposed to do? He could start working on his bike but he needed more light. He could go back to his room, but then what?
"Good morning," a voice interrupted his thoughts. Charlie stuck her head out of the kitchen and smiled.
"I'm sorry, I didn't think anyone would be up," Steve apologized, walking towards the kitchen.
"Don't apologize, I told you I get up early," Charlie smiled. Steve walked into the kitchen and saw three muffin trays on the table.
"I bake for the diner and baking takes time so here I am at five in the morning," Charlie explained, returning to her mixing bowl.
"What are you making?"
"Blueberry and chocolate chip muffins. They're the favorites." Steve nodded his head and stood awkwardly in the kitchen.
"Do you need any help?" Steve asked. There was flour, butter, and sugar strewn across the counter. He didn't know what he could do but he felt like he should ask.
"No, I'm good thanks," Charlie chuckled. She mixed the muffin batter and scooped it into another pan. The oven beeped and Charlie took out two large loafs.
"Wow, you must have been up a while to make all of this," Steve said, impressed. One loaf looked like cornbread, the other had chocolate chips.
"Yep, I get up at four each morning and start baking."
"Isn't that tiring?"
"Yes but it's what I love. If I can do what I love, it's worth the exhaustion." Steve nodded his head in agreement and took a seat at the table. The batter by itself looked tasty and now that the bread was out, it smelled delicious.
"So I've explained why I'm up at dawn, what about you?" Steve turned his head to look at Charlie. Her head was tilted to the side and she had a curious look on her face.
"Why are you up so early Steve?" Charlie asked more directly. Steve looked down and fidgeted.
"Guess it's because I'm in an unfamiliar place," Steve shrugged his shoulders, not wanting to talk about his nightmares or paranoia. Charlie didn't say anything for a minute and placed two muffin tins in the oven. Steve looked at the table and ran his fingers over some scratches.
"The bed's too soft isn't?" Steve looked up at Charlie's voice. She wasn't facing him but she glanced over her shoulder.
"It's like a marshmallow. Too fluffy, too comfortable. It feels like-"
"You'll sink into the floor," Steve finished, finally understanding what the problem was. Charlie turned around with a knowing smile on her face.
"How did you know I was a soldier?" Steve asked, eyebrows scrunched. Charlie nodded to two photos hanging on the wall. One frame held a marine, the other an army man.
"I have two brothers in the military. Whenever they come home, they always sleep on the floor at their insistence. I asked them why once and they said the bed is too soft and they feel more comfortable on the floor," Charlie said, "George is the oldest, he's the marine. Tommy is the second oldest and he's in the army. Then there's me."
"Do they come home often?" Steve asked, getting up and taking a closer look at the photos. George had a hard face with guarded eyes. Tommy was leaner with more wild eyes.
"No, they love their job too much to come home," Charlie said, a hint of sadness in her voice. Steve looked back and Charlie shrugged.
"There's not a lot to come back to and they prefer to stay with people who understand them." Charlie took out a cookie sheet and began pouring batter into it.
"Well, from what I tried yesterday, your cooking is something to come back to," Steve said, wanting to rid the sadness from her voice. Charlie laughed, "That's probably the only reason they come back at all. I am the best after all." Steve chuckled and sat back down. He watched Charlie move about the kitchen and was reminded of his mother when she cooked in the morning. She would make him and his dad breakfast and then he'd run, or try to run, of to school. Steve suddenly felt a pang of longing for his mother even though she'd died before his experiment.
"I wanted to join the army," Charlie brought him out of his thoughts and he looked up at her.
"I wanted to be just like my big brothers but because of certain circumstances, I wasn't able to. Which is probably better or else the good state of Wyoming wouldn't have my fabulous baking," Charlie winked.
"That would be a shame," Steve smiled. He was just about to ask what those circumstances were when the oven beeped again. Charlie took out the muffins and replaced the oven with more. Steve swallowed his question, deciding that might be too personal for a morning conversation. Charlie started fiddling with an old radio and then stepped away when Bing Crosby came on. A wide grin spread across her face and she dusted her hands off in victory.
"I love this oldies station. It's my favorite type of music," Charlie breathed deeply as if to inhale Bing Crosby's voice. Steve chuckled and leaned back in his chair, hands behind his back.
"I've got a pocketful of dreams by Bing Crosby," Steve said, listening to the familiar voice.
"Yes!" Charlie exclaimed, eyes sparkling.
"Oh I'm no millionaire-"
"But I'm not the type to care-"
"Because I've got a pocketful of dreams," Steve and Charlie sang at the same time. Charlie grinned broadly and Steve couldn't help but smile too. It was rare to find someone who truly enjoyed his music.
"Dreams," Charlie said wistfully, "What are your dreams?" Steve blinked, caught off guard by the question.
"Um…my dreams? Well…" Steve hadn't thought about it. Before he was changed into a super soldier, all he had wanted to do was protect his country. Has that changed much? Steve thought to himself.
"I guess…I just want to do what I can for my country," Steve scratched his head.
"Well that's very patriotic of you," Charlie smirked. Steve snorted.
"What's your dream then?"
"My dream is to have my own bakery with an outdoor patio and striped umbrellas. I would have all my goodies in display cases and people would call in cakes for birthdays and weddings. That's my dream," Charlie sighed, leaning against the counter.
"That's not patriotic at all," Steve joked.
"Well of course I would have a specialty cookie that has our stars and stripes painted proudly on it."
"You could make a brownie with a star in the middle of it."
"Yeah or I could have little apple pies with stars on the top." Steve and Charlie threw ideas back and forth, ranging from pastries to decorations to locations.
"Haven't you ever been somewhere that you wanted to come back to?" Steve asked. Charlie took the last pan out of the oven and shrugged.
"I haven't really left Wyoming before. I've never had the chance or the money to travel," Charlie said.
"So would you stay here?"
"I don't think so. I never pictured myself here forever. I just don't know when I'll leave," Charlie placed her hands on her hips and looked around.
"Well, I'm done baking for the morning and I need to clean up which means," Charlie turned to Steve, "I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Steve chuckled and stood up.
"I can do that but I can also do more," Steve stretched, "I could help or do something other than just sit in my room. Please tell me something I can do." Charlie smiled and looked around, biting her lip in thought.
"The shutters need fixing-"
"I can do that."
"Ok, the tools are out back. I'll have breakfast ready for you when you're done," Charlie grinned.
"Thank you ma'am. It'll be fixed by breakfast," Steve grinned, giving a mock salute. He went out the back door to Charlie's laughter.