Lunch
Steve
During his time at military bases, Steve found himself awake at the crack of dawn and already running around a base or doing something important. Working out in the morning was a routine then, and even after fighting Loki in New York, he hadn't taken the time to try and break his habit. Anyways, he enjoyed getting fresh air and waking up for the rest of his day, even if it wasn't necessary. That Wednesday he woke up nearly a half hour later than normal—by habit rather than alarm. The digital clock beside his huge bed on his private floor had remained silent and he had no idea how to program JARVIS to wake him up. His understanding of the bodiless robot and how it worked was still extremely minimal.
Not wanting to take too much extra time, Steve threw on a muscle shirt and a pair of long shorts and tennis shoes, beginning his jog by running to the elevator. He told JARVIS that he wanted to go to the ground floor, where some of the workers were just beginning to make their way into the building. Taking a side exit, Steve began his jog toward central park at his almost inhuman pace.
His thoughts for the morning varied, mostly regarding what he was going to fix himself for breakfast, and why his alarm didn't go off. He wondered if it was Clint or Tony attempting to prank him because they for some unfathomable reason enjoyed pulling things over his and Thor's heads. Clint had left with Natasha the previous night after dinner on a mission somewhere in South America, so his suspicion of Clint was relatively limited. Whatever the reason, he could ask JARVIS to wake him up the next time he slept in.
For not paying attention to his morning run, he should have expected to run into something. It was usually rather rare to find someone out walking in the middle of central park at 6:00 am on a Wednesday, if anything, there would be an overpopulation of businessmen and women on the streets, not in the park. It was truly shaping up to be a terrible day when he plowed right into another person when he turned a corner too sharp. He could only criticise himself for not paying attention to his surroundings like he should have been. When he realized that said person had roughly landed on the ground, he apologized and took a step back to distance himself.
"I am so sorry!" Steve apologized again, looking at the spilled drink beside them. The woman that was holding it just sighed and bent down to pick up the cup before looking at him.
"I have terrible luck, it's totally not your fault."
When her face rose to meet him, he recognized it within a second. "Eleanor?"
"Sssssss-Steve!" She exclaimed and with a snap, she flicked her finger in the air and pointed at the sky as she remembered his name. "Hi!" She looked at him from head to toe when she took a step back, "I'm starting to wonder if you're stalking me. This is like the third time in two weeks." she sarcastically turned her head to the side and put a hand on her hip proving that she was joking around.
Steve, with a chuckle himself, rubbed the back of his head with his palm. "I'm not I swear. Sorry about your drink." That specific Wednesday, Eleanor wore long floral print jeans that tucked into her boots and a light jacket. Around her neck, like he first met her, was a camera. The lens was off.
"Nah, 'Tis okay. It was just lemonade. I wasn't paying attention either." She brushed her bum with her free hand once more. "But man, you're practically a brick wall."
It may have been a few days, but even for that short amount of time, he had thought about her again and again. The small thing in the store that he had walked into, and the girl in the dated pastel blue dress who, for some reason or another didn't recognize him as anything but a stranger she had met twice in the streets. For whatever her reasons were, her ignorance of his identity made her friendlier, she reminded him of the friends he had lost years before he was re-awoken. His mind caused his mouth to move before he could think any more, skipping over any red tape blocking his mind- "Can I buy you a new one?"
"You don't have to." She was looking at her pants and rubbing a spot that had gotten wet. One hand seemed to wave him off despite also holding the cup.
"I-" Almost in the back of his mind, he could hear his best friend talking to him. Don't let her get away Steve, you've gotta insist. Words from long ago echoed. "I want to. Maybe not right now, but how does tomorrow sound? Lunch?"
"Lunch? Tomorrow." She stared at him, shifting the light brown bag on her shoulder and adjusting her stance. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, unsure of how to take his invitation, but cautiously going about it.
"Yeah. The Café off of 58th."
Eleanor looked at her watch and nodded her head after considering his proposition for a moment longer. "Tomorrow, Thursday. Café off of 58th at 1:00?"
"Yeah." For the first time all morning he wondered if maybe his first assessment of having a bad Wednesday would be wrong. She looked at him for a few more seconds before taking a step to the right to make sure she was out of his way before she spoke again.
"Okay Steve. 1:00 tomorrow. Don't be late. I'll see you then."
"I won't." He began to jog at a much slower pace, to seem more normal in her eyes. Not sure why he wanted to, but doing so anyway. She called out lightly behind him once more.
"Watch where you're going too! You're lucky it was just me and not a tourist!" He glanced back and saw her smile laughing at himself and giving her a half-hearted salute.
"Yes M'am!"
And they headed in opposite directions at different paces.
Steve, as he turned the corner and picked up his tempo let out a relieving laugh. He had just, by all means, and purposes asked a girl out to lunch without anyone else's assistance. A rather beautiful dame actually. Just the thought made him smile. While admittedly she was still a stranger she seemed to hold his attention. Maybe it was the fact that she worked in Peggy's store and had some connection or another to his life before he was left in the ice for 70 years. Nonetheless, he had a feeling it'd be a good day.
Eleanor
As she made her way back through the park she would pause for the occasional morning photo. Slowly she worked her way toward Peggy's for the rest of the day. Along the way, her mind fought with her. 'What the hell was I thinking?' a voice in the depths of her mind argued. Sure, supposedly, probably, this guy—Steve—was just a nice guy. She had run into him multiple times, but she still did not really know who he was. Trying to convince herself she noted that she knew very few people in the area anyway. Accepting a strange man's invitation wouldn't be that big of a deal otherwise. Eleanor did question the possibility of something bad happening after meeting him. He could be a murder, a rapist, some creepy stalker that would never leave her alone. In contrast, though, they WERE meeting in a public space.
Nevertheless her gut, her womanly intuition told her to go. It was, after all, in a public place.
Thursday came fast for both.
Eleanor woke up her normal time at seven to make her way down the quiet streets to Peggy's. The closing date was getting closer, and more things were making their way into boxes, more and more were put on sale. The family that owned the store she worked in was independently wealthy, so many of the items were at low prices anyway. In the end, it appeared they just wanted to be done with the red door and brick building.
It was tragic, in her opinion, how quickly they were able to get over Mike's death. Sure, he was 94 years old, but his funeral had been small. His youngest daughter had been the only on there for attendance and his grandchildren worried little about him, apart from their inheritances.
After working with him for five years, just the two of them in the old store, Eleanor felt more attachment for him than almost everyone else. He had been more of a father to her than her own. The closest thing to family she had in years. His rather large salary helped her pay her way through school as well as through her daily life. In a way, the store had almost become her own. Mike had always been there for support when she needed it and he never let her spend a holiday alone without giving her a gift of some sort or another, usually along the lines of a 'proper' meal.
Without him, Peggy's seemed empty. Every day a few more people than the one before it would walk in. The going out of business sign made people believe it'd be a good place for souvenirs or cheap perishable items. Sometimes they'd take something that she loved, for a steal. She could feel her heart leaving the door with them.
When Steve had stopped by the week before the shop had been much slower, and she was still glad he was the one to take the radio that she had always loved to fiddle with. In some cases, she could connect it to a good station on the radio to listen to. Mike had taught her how to use it, with his wrinkled pale hands and chuckles that lit up the room. Still, in terms of the shop, there was little left of great value; it was all sentimental.
When the clock hit 12:30 though she recalled her appointment and locked up the store, flipping the sign to 'closed' as she headed back down the street to central park. 58th, as they had agreed to be the meeting place, was on the other side of the park, surprisingly not too far from where she worked. There was only one true café off of the street that she found rather quickly walking in and looking around for the familiar, but still new face. On cue, Steve seemed to stand from a table near the far window of the building, looking up one of the larger streets. He waved at her with a smile and she made her way over.
When she reached him, he was still standing and walked around to her chair, pulling it out for her. Eleanor's eyebrows rose as she sat down, letting him slide it in under her and adjusting her skirt and setting her hand bag onto her lap. Steve sat down back in his seat across from her and gave a shy smile.
"Hey."
"Hi." She squeaked back, biting the inside of her cheek. For a few moments, she forgot how to talk to another human being in a setting that didn't require customer service.
He motioned to the table and pulled out the chair across from him. "How're you?"
"I'm good, you?"
"I'm swell."
And then they sat in silence, awkwardly looking at everything but each other. After a few seconds, Steve chuckled, and then laughed to himself, catching Eleanor's attention.
"What?" She asked, smiling herself.
Steve rubbed the back of his head. "I'm terrible with talking to women. Sorry."
With a giggle, she shook her head and looked out the window. "You're not terrible. Just—shy?" They looked at each other and laughed again. "I don't know how to properly friend really either."
"You seem to have a point." He motioned the table just as the waitress walked over, smiling down at the two of them without even recognizing the hero. Steve found that so long as he was with someone, people tended to look past him easier, not noticing who he actually was.
"Can I get you both something to drink?" The black-haired woman held a pad and looked between them, she was young and it was easy to tell that she was a bit bored.
"Yeah. Um… What would you like?" Steve motioned to the woman in front of him to go first, and she flipped the menu over to the back to glance at the drinks.
Pointing at something, her eyes twinkled "A strawberry lemonade, please" The woman jotted such down before turning to him.
"I'll get a coffee. Black."
The woman just nodded her head and walked off, leaving them with their menus to look over. Once Steve had decided what he wanted, he looked up at the girl in front of him, watching her features closer than he had before. Her brunette hair had blond strands that ran throughout it, with the light from the window it looked as if it were lighter by several shades. It was pulled into a wild and messy bun on the top of her head, and what looked to be chop sticks poked in an X direction.
That Thursday, she wore a modest T-shirt paired with a skirt that was shorter in the front but longer in the back. The bright tribal like colours from her skirt added the colour to the rest of her body. Her nails, topping off her long pale fingers were a pastel orange, much like her skirt. When her hand rested on the menu and she leaned back, he lifted his gaze. Her eyes, on the other hand, stared at the people on the streets and the hustle bustle of New York.
"Do you live here in the city?" She asked her gaze never leaving the window.
"Yeah. Further downtown actually." Steve looked out too, trying to see what she was staring at.
"Further downtown? That's cool. Isn't it annoying though? The lights never really turn off."
Steve shrugged "I have good blinds." Admittedly, Jarvis had a program that tinted the windows to the extent that light couldn't get through. Tony had tried to explain it once, but Steve never really caught on when he began to talk in scientific terms.
Their drinks were put in front of them, interrupting the beginnings of their conversation. The waitress stood in front of them once more, staring down with a critical eye, almost covered in the amount of makeup she wore. She asked if they were ready to order, and Steve nodded to Eleanor, enabling her to order her Grilled Cheese first. Then he ordered his own Sandwich, handing the woman his menu and watching as she walked off.
"Have you lived in New York long?" Steve asked trying to restart their conversation.
She shook her head "Not really. I went to university here and just haven't left. Born and raised in Edison, New Jersey actually." She gave him a sideways grin, swishing her drink around with her straw. "You?"
"I was born in Upper Manhattan, not far from where you work. I left for a while, and just got back a few months ago." Keeping his answer rather brief, Steve avoided telling her too much. He could tell that she knew there might be more to the story, but Eleanor took it in stride. She swished the ice in her drink around before moving onto other topics.
"What's your favourite thing about New York?" She motioned to the city on the other side of the glass.
Taking a few seconds and considering her question, he thought about his answer. "I like the fact that it's cultured. There are so many different types of people and lots of cuisines."
The woman in front of him nodded with a smile. She pointed outside. "I like the people. There's always new stories for different people, y'know?" For the first time, Steve could hear her New Jersey accent, despite how light it was. "I think that having so many stories makes it more exciting and fresh and… well, New York like."
The Captain nodded his head as well. "People are interesting. I always wonder what their stories could be."
An airy chuckle caused her shoulders to shake as she eagerly nodded her head "I think about that all the time!" She motioned toward the window. "I was on the school Journal in college, and we used to do this column. It was sort of like People of New York, where we'd interview people and take their picture. Now I just have to make up stories to go with photographs that I take."
"Did you make a story up for me?" Steve raised an eyebrow, watching as her cheeks flushed a light pink and she nodded her head.
"I did…"
"Do tell." He laughed.
She took a few seconds before leaning back in her chair. "Since the pictures was from behind you, it made you seem more mysterious like you were waiting for something, but I have this one of when the birds swooped by you." With her arm, she made a swooping motion. "And your head follows them, it sort of turns… right. So, I always thought of you—or the man in the photo at least—as a professional football player I've never heard of who's guilty pleasure was watching birds in his spare time."
"A football player?"
"Well, you don't look like the 60-year-old man who watches birds every day in the South Corner of the park, and you most definitely have a built physique that would—Honestly! I don't mean it in an objectifiable way! You've got the build of a great football player—like What's-his-face Manning!" Her giggles met his laughter as he shook his head.
"I am definitely more of a Baseball fan," Steve countered.
"I'm more of an Olympics every two years kind of gal."
Their food arrived, and they were able to continue their conversation, eventually and naturally shifting their attentions to the people on the other side of the window. They made a small game of it eventually. One of them would point out a person, and together they would create a story about their life, where they were going or what they did for a living. Periodically, they would share a story about a person they knew or argue over the details.
"That man, with the hat." Steve motioned to someone across the street.
"The one with the tan suit?"
"Yeah."
"He looks… like he's from the Twenties. So he's an avid reader. His favourite book is the Great Gatsby. Gosh, I love that book."
When she spoke in a relatively quiet voice, it was amazing how he could understand her. It wasn't a matter of his hearing so much as how she held herself. Like an open book, her filter was limited, and she spoke the emotions that ran across her face without hesitation. Half of her references were on the classics side. She mentioned authors from the 18th century that he had studied in grammar school, and she mentioned events and things that had occurred earlier in the year. The things he didn't understand, she unknowingly gave mass amounts of context too, making it rather easy to follow along.
"So he could be a bond dealer?"
"Yeah. From California. He's probably got a Wife."
"Kids?"
"No, his suit is too straight I think. What about a Mistress though?"
Steve scrunched up his nose, looking at the man with a new perspective. "If that's so, think he lives outside the city?"
"At least an hour. Ohh, there he goes into the bank to steal money from the poor." They watched as he made his way up the stairs and the door to the bank shut behind him, the darker tint making him nearly impossible to see as he walked further into the building. Taking a break to munch on more of their food they both stared out the window looking for their next target. "That one." Eleanor nodded to a man sitting in his car with a pair of sunglasses, and the window rolled down. His attention was on the car in front of him. "Government Agent."
With a laugh, Steve shook his head. "I doubt government agents actually wear aviator glasses like those."
"Then bad government agent." She shot back with a laugh of her own. "Perhaps he double deals in… um… favours? Like Patron-Clientelism."
"Patron- what?"
She laughed motioned with her shoulder. "Like if you pay me off I'll let you do what you want. Dirty cop sort of thing. I think that—sorry I've been reading too much "
They continued for about a half hour longer before their lunches were finished. Much to her despair Steve didn't just pay for her Lemonade, but rather Eleanor's whole meal. As they made their way to the door, the young woman looked up at him with a grin.
"Thanks. For lunch."
"No problem. W-Would you like to meet up for lunch again? Some other time?"
Without hesitation, she was nodding her head with an excited grin. "Of course!"
"How does next week sound? Same place, same time?" He motioned the café's name and the seats they had been in just five minutes before.
Eleanor nodded her head quickly. "Works for me! Next Thursday then."
"Alright. Till then Miss Eleanor."
"Until then Sir Steve." She curtsied in response to his words as she began to walk toward the park once more. In response, Steve politely bowed his head and put his hand to his chest. As she walked out of sight he could hear her laughing to herself, almost a new bounce in her step. When she reached the entrance to the park and turned around a tree out of sight Steve finally began to move back up the street.
Steve
As Stark Tower came into sight a young boy ran right up to him. Brown eyes stared straight up at him and his mouth dropped open. "You're Captain America." He stated. Steve couldn't really protest. Instead, he bent down to be level with the kid. As soon as he noticed that Steve had bent down, he was pulling out something from the small school bag he had, a pen and a piece of paper. "Can I get your autograph?"
A laugh escaped the Avenger's mouth as he nodded his head, scribbling down his signature onto the boy's paper. The sparkle in the kid's eyes never left. Steve glanced around for a few seconds, finding the child's parents and waving to them. The brown-eyed boy murmured a thank you before turning and running toward them, jumping into his father's arms with a bouncing excitement and energy that only children possessed. Steve could see the boy's arms waving around. The mother gave him a light wave, and with a motion of sign language said 'thank you.'
The family of three made their way out of sight, and Steve made his way back into the Tower. As he got up to the training floor, he found that there was already a pair of spies duking it out in the centre of the boxing ring. Well, looks like they were back safe.