~Captian my Captian~

Steve

After two more weeks of meeting every Thursday for lunch, they began to discuss deeper topics of interest. It was odd for the Captain, to have made friends with a woman in the first place. Yet, every week he looked forward to seeing her, and talking like an average human being. To be treated like one. But away from talking about the weather, and music, and the people in the park it came down to them. For most of her questions until that third meeting regarding his life, Steve was able to avoid telling her too much about himself. She respectfully didn't dig, and neither did he. Steve was careful, but when she asked the question he knew it was unavoidable.

"So what is it that you do?" Her nails clicked against her glass lightly as she tended to do unconsciously when she was waiting for him to respond

"I was in the military."

"Yeah, I think I figured that out."

The Captain raised an eyebrow and chuckled, unsure of what she meant.

"Well, I mean, you sit so straight," Steve tried to adjust how he sat and she laughed, "And you go for runs at the break of dawn and have mass amounts of muscle…" Reaching forward she tapped his bicep. "It seems to be real unless you wear body armor all the time. But what branch?"

"Army. I was a foot soldier."

"Really. That's interesting. Much more so than my boring academic self. What do you do now that you're off duty?"

"I- ah" A cover story almost sounded like the best idea, to make her treat him like a normal person. "It depends, usually it's public service sort of things?"

Attentive, she tilted her head almost egging him for more information, but he stopped there. There was an awkward pause and she shifted her questions.

"Wow. What rank were you in the service?"

"Army special task force. I'm a Captain."

"Captain. Captain Steve…" They hadn't really divulged their last names to each other yet.

"Rogers."

"Captain Steve Rogers of the-" Gig was up. She narrowed her eyes like she had the first time she met him, and he could tell that she had made the connection when she leaned back and laughed. "Captain Steve Rogers is the name of Captain America." It was said in such a tone as to not draw attention to their table. "Like the one on the trading cards." It took him a second to comprehend that she used the term 'trading cards' rather than referencing the attack on New York, but it seemed to be sinking in. Steve sighed and nodded his head, waiting for a barrage of questions about his life, his identity, being a superhero. But instead, as the lady before him tended to do, she didn't say anything before leaning forward her eyes shifted around the room cautiously. "Are you joking with me?" The captain shook his head and looked out the window. In the corner of his vision Eleanor lifted her pink lemonade and took a drink mixing the ice as best she could, "I knew I had seen you somewhere…" for a second she looked out the window and spoke to herself "Steve is a superhero-celebrity and you're eating lunch with him. Okay. Okay."

Quiet for a few seconds, Steve dipped his toes in the water by changing the subject. "When Peggy's closes, what do you plan on doing?" Now that she was aware of his history, he figured it was best to push forward onto a different topic. The first thing that popped into his mind was the countdown till the closed sign was permanently in the window of the building she worked at. The building named after the first love of his life.

She waited for a few seconds before shrugging. "I'll probably see if I can get a teaching gig. Actually, do something with my education—I've been substituting on and off for this school pretty close to where I live so I'm waiting to see if anything opens up. I'll start summer-school subbing once Peggy's closes." She shrugged once more before glancing out the window next to their table. Despite his attempt, she expectedly brought the topic back around, "Aside from being a model for all children to look up to what do you do?"

For a second Steve just stared at her, considering her reaction to his identity once more "I try to get caught up on modern culture and I draw."

"You draw? Like what kind of things?" There were more questions in her eyes that seemed to be glossed over as she went for the less invasive ones.

"All kinds. I attended a year of Art school before forcing my way into the military."

"Wicked. What's your favourite thing to draw?" She leaned forward a bit while taking another drink, tilting her head slightly.

"People I've known. And nature."

The conversation didn't flourish as it normally did. In a way, they both seemed to hesitate with what they were going to say. Eventually though Eleanor dove head in. "Captain America? How—why did they decide to recreate him in that invasion? To pride Americans in being American?"

"They- I wasn't re-created."

"But Captain America was a propaganda thing I thought: until the re-emergence."

"No. I fought in Germany, and across Europe."

Confusion crossed every line of her face, her nose scrunched up and her lips pressed together. He knew he was analyzing every motion she made as she stared at him. "What?"

To be or not to be. Hamlet, the only Shakespeare play he could remember reading had worded it almost perfectly—suicide or life. He knew he was being dramatic but there were ultimately two roads that Steve could take, and neither were very beautiful. This would be his first time explaining to someone he could call a friend. "I was born… um Steven Grant Rogers on the 4th of July in 1918." He paused, and she didn't react to him immediately. "Sick all the time, I enlisted and was rejected multiple times. But there was this scientist who, well believed in me and made me who I am today."

"That makes you… like… 90 years old." The sarcasm was strong in the depths of her voice.

"I flew a plane. Into Greenland. And was frozen for 73 years. Last year I was found and, um, revitalized?"

"Are you-" a loss of words lead to her thought process falling into override the pupils of her eyes dilated with thoughts as she thought long and hard. She spoke under her breath once more, a habit that he noticed she did occasionally in a way to give herself a pep-talk, "Okay. There were aliens falling from the sky. What's so weird about this? Right?"

This time it was Steve's mouth that slackened, but she changed the subject.

"Now tell me. This is important…" she paused, and Steve lifted an eyebrow ready for a question that had to do with his identity. Or wanting to meet the other Avengers. There were so many that people asked him once they realized who he was. "Probably the most important question I'll ever ask you." Again, she paused for emphasis. Steve was already dreading what she would ask him. "It'll determine our friendship from here on out…" For a second, Steve leaned forward to hear her as she lowered her voice an octave, just wanting to hear her ask something to get it over with. Instead of what he was expecting, she started a year "1938. Did you or did you not see the Wizard of Oz in theatres."

The Captain blinked once. And then again. He stared at her as she bit her lip and rose her own eyebrow. Her lip quirked at the edge.

Then he laughed. Steve, for the first time in a long time, sat back and laughed wholeheartedly. He, in quick succession, nodded his head. Without further ado, she laughed too. Like a metal triangle in the back of a symphony, her laugh broke through the air and refreshed his mind. The food was delivered, her grilled cheese and his burger, calming them both down back to their point of discussion.

"The Wizard of Oz is one of my all-time favourite movies. I have like, three pairs of Red heels and a sign above my door that says 'there's no place like home.'"

"When I went to see it—It was the talk of the city. Colour. Who would have thought you could put that much colour into a film. But now, at this point, I guess it's not that big of a deal. Everything looks much more real even the fake stuff."

Eleanor nodded. "You're right, but there's nothing like the revolutionary movies. We couldn't be where we are today without that movie."

"You think?"

"I know! Actually, have you heard of Oz the Great and Powerful?"

"No?"

"It's recent. But it's the prequel to the Wizard of Oz. I own it if you want to borrow it or come over and see it or something."

"Yeah. That sounds cool." Steve stared at her and she stared at the window, a placid smile on her face as she followed people with her eyes. "You're not… angry?" Steve knew it was not the right word to use in the situation, but she seemed to understand what he was talking about.

"That the man I've been eating lunch with for the past three weeks does Superhero stuff in his spare time? Or that he was born in 1918?" She shook her head and met her eyes with his. "No, sort of surprised I guess, but at least I know that you aren't a stalker ex-criminal… or worse… a professional football player." Nonchalantly she took another sip of her drink.

Her brown eyes seemed to see him for all he was. "Really?"

She stretched her arms back for a few seconds and nodded her head. "Yeah. You're human—admittedly a semi-famous superhero who doesn't like too much attention, but you've become my friend, I guess… so does it really matter?"

"No. You're right."

"Usually am." Her right eye winked at him and she leaned forward as their food arrived. "Peggy and Mike though, I've found quite a few photos of them with you in uniform—that's probably why, unconsciously, I thought you were a good guy."

Steve was speechless at her words, her reactions to him were so much different when compared to anyone he had met until that point.

"Anyways, on a brighter note," Eleanor didn't wait for him to respond, she changed the subject on her own, "Do you like animals?" Her eyes trailed across the Café, looking at the front desk and the people around the area. Across the way, by the entrance, there was a billboard with a classic downtown feel to it. Posters put up by various groups in the city about events and plays and groups covered it from every edge. Steve, as he was almost always the first one at the Café, never missed her when she walked in and stared at it for a few seconds before walking toward their table. Rarely, she would take a phone number off of one of the pieces and put it into her handbag.

"Yeah. I do. Why?"

"I was just wondering. I spend Saturdays at the New York Humane Society as a Volunteer."

"That still exists? Off of 47th?"

"Actually they moved to 59th, in the 70's. It's a little place between 1st and 2nd Avenue."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I spend most of my time taking photos of the new animals and writing up their profiles."

"Do you have any pets?" Steve looked at her clothes once more. They didn't seem to have fur of any kind on them.

Shaking her head she complained, "I wish! My Landlord doesn't allow pets of any sort in our building. Growing up I always wanted a kitten or a puppy."

"I had a dog when I was younger—I wasn't a very strong kid, so my parents got me a Lab. I was lucky that my mom's job paid well, because once the Wall Street crash we had one hell of a time keeping us and the dog alive." Thinking back to the dog gave Steve a warm feeling in his chest. He hadn't thought about it in so long.

"What kind of lab?"

"Actually, I think it was a mix. He was black with some brown spots—like under his neck and behind his ears. His name was Leo, and when he passed away in '40, we buried him by the beach at Breezy Point."

Her hand rested on his as she gave him a sad smile. "Dog's die early because they live with such an abundance of love for their owners that eventually their love stores run out, and they're so happy with the lives that they've lived that they have to leave to remind us what a life of happiness is." Her soft fingers rested on his much more rough ones, and he couldn't help but stare down at their lightly painted hue.

"How often do you change the colours of your nails?" Although he didn't mean to, the question fell out of his mouth faster than he wanted it to, and she flipped her hand over to look at them herself.

Probably two or so times a week. I have a rather large collection of nail polish and I usually do it watching Jeopardy in front of my TV."

"What's Jeopardy?"

"It's a daily television show where they have contestants competing for money based on random facts put into categories. They have to answer with questions. Like… One could be under the World War II category, and the answer for two hundred points is 'the Fascist leader of Italy' "

'Benito Mussolini'"

Yeah, but you'd have to reply, 'who is Benito Mussolini'. They pretty much go back and forth, first, one to hit their button gets to answer the question."

"Sounds simple."

"It is, but the questions range from 12th century Art to Current World Issues. I'd recommend it if you want to keep up with random history or pop culture topics."

Steve nodded and then put his hand in his jacket pocket, pulling out a book and flipping it over backward, putting the word Jeopardy with the word TV next to it. Eleanor spelled it out loud for him with a smile, looking at the small list of things he had on the page.

"Are those all things I've mentioned?"

"Yeah, actually. Things I didn't know what you were talking about at least."

"Star Trec? Oh! I knew you didn't know what I was talking about when I mentioned it!" She laughed and looked away from the book. "It's hard to find people who do, so it's no big deal. Long series though, and Trek has a K in it. Super cheesy, though the most recent movies with Zachery Quinto are really good. Don't forget Oz the great and the Powerful."

Together, they both laughed.

"Eleanor?" Steve asked after a few minutes of peaceful silence.

"Hm?" She didn't look at him for a few seconds, watching whatever she was staring at for a little while longer.

"Do you have a—um—Cell phone?"

Her eyes flipped to him and she nodded her head with a curiosity to mirror his own. "Do you?"

"Yeah. I was wondering if you wanted to trade numbers, in case you can't make it to Lunch or something."

"212…." She began with the area code, watching as he quickly flipped his phone out and moved to put in the numbers, rather clumsily. "8373." When she finished she watched as he took his fingers and tried to scroll back up to the name. "Just smoothly slide your finger." She giggled, putting her finger to the screen and moving it up for him upside down. "And you spell my name E-l-e-a-n-o-r. My last name is Moore. M-o-o-r-e." Steve lifted it up to take a photo after that, and she covered her face with a squeak of protest. Spreading her fingers she peaked at him. "I take the pictures, I don't like being in them!"

He rolled his own eyes sarcastically and took the picture of her covering her face anyway.

"You can just text me then."

For a second he stared at her and then looked to his phone, flipping it over for her to see. "I have no idea how to do much more than putting a number in and call."

Step by step, Eleanor lead him through texting on a Stark made phone, figuring it out herself as she went and chatting about the modern usage of phones. She gave room for Steve to ask questions, such as ringtones (Tony had given him one that was ridiculous, but he had yet to figure out how to change it) and he included asking about telegrams and letters: The new creation of E-mails was still foreign, and how was it that so much information connecting the world could be found in a Laptop? Where did they even come up with that name anyway?

The girl in front of him didn't know all the answers, but she gave him what she could in its simplest form, insisting that he could always call her if he couldn't remember how to text. Her phone was a much older form, a blackberry she called it, showing him the keyboard that lay across the bottom half. That's sort of how it went for the rest of their Lunch.

Her explaining of all the things Steve was too embarrassed to ask the rest of the team about making his life so much easier, and he was able to understand a lot more by the time they both stood up from their lunch.

"May I walk you back to work?" He asked, not wanting to separate from her so soon.

She countered him playfully though, just she always tended to do during their lunches. "I dunno, May you?"

"I would like to."

"Who am I to protest then, having a nice seven-foot five-hundred-pound man of muscle walking me through the streets of Manhattan?"

That time her response was a snort as Steve covered his mouth, trying not to laugh too hard. "I'm a lighter than that."

"Lies. You're feeding me lies." She bumped into him lightly with her hips and then rolled her eyes. "The least you could do is act like I have the power to push you over."

Steve sniggered and continued to walk toward the park, only pausing when he realized that she had stopped by the lamp post a few feet back, staring at him with almost a new found admiration. After shaking her head at whatever ran through her mind, she walked swiftly back over to him and grinned up to him.

"Everything alright?" Steve motioned, not wanting to dig but worried.

"Yeah. I just… I'm glad I dropped my camera Cap. I mean—maybe not because it got a bit dented and it doesn't fit right anymore, but I'm glad that it rolled away and into you. Well… sorta, I mean it was embarrassing bu-" Cutting off her ramble her cheeks turned a light shade of pink and she abashedly looked down to her bag.

It took a moment to figure out what she was trying to say for Steve, but when he realized that she was trying to express her gratitude he decided to take his own swing at breaking the silence. "I'm glad your camera lens cap ran into my foot too Eleanor." She looked at him with doe eyes that made his heart almost melt. "I really am." When her eyes shifted away from him, he took a few seconds to think of what else he wanted to say. "I would have never imagined that someone could make me feel like a normal human being. But you just seem to make everyone, including a man from the 1940's fit."

"Thanks." She murmured, her face turning another, darker shade of pink. "I think that you would have made your way without me though."

For the next few minutes, they processed the short moment that they had just expressed their feelings before Eleanor abruptly changed the subject onto the park renovations and the repainting of some of the park buildings to an odd green shade.

As always, their conversation flourished and flowed with their attention on one another, hardly noticing the shrinking distance to the store, and almost passing it as they walked. Eleanor slowed when they turned on the street though, pausing in their conversation as she looked around at the neighborhood. For 3 o'clock in the afternoon, the street was quiet, but she knew that once the heat started to go down more people would be out and about.

Pastel Red, one of her favourite shades of all time stood out to her on the street as it did when she first arrived in New York and decided to live in Upper Manhattan. She could almost recall calling it home once or twice, the feeling she got when she walked in relaxing and with the ability to push away any and all emotion that dictated her days. As closing got closer, her attention to the details got better.

The sign on the door read 'Closing on Monday,' and Steve stared at it with a surprising amount of grief. Eleanor had told him in a previous conversation weeks ago that she had been working with Mike for five years at the store and had cared for him deeper than many of his own children. She had, genuinely, called him a father to her when she lived in New York, always paying her more than he needed to and never letting her spend the holidays alone.

He wasn't alone in his disappointment of that sign by the look that Eleanor gave the store.

They walked up the steps and Eleanor took out her keys, undoing the lock with practiced skill and opening the door, looking at the man in front of her for a second before shrugging and giving him a light hug. Steve wrapped his arms around her for a second as well, taking delight in the feeling of care she expressed for him.

When they stepped apart, she put a strand of her hair behind her ear and tilted her head, running a hand through the ruffles on her skirt. "Well, Captain Rogers." She said in a lightly mocking tone, nodding him.

In the same tone, Steve responded with a polite "Miss Moore."

"I will talk to you later. Just text me or call me or whatever, I'll keep my phone on. We're still on for Next Thursday, right?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Well, if the world is at stake, I don't think I'd blame you. Someone's gotta take care of business. But do call if you get caught up in a battle."

They both grinned at each other knowingly, and Steve made his way down the steps and back toward the tower as he normally did after their lunch only glancing back to give her a wave and make sure she walked into the store safely.

Hi! Sorry for not updating sooner this weekend, if you can't tell, weekly updates seem to work best for me. I am currently not in the United States, so internet access is a bit weird. I'm currently on the search for a Beta if anyone is interested.

Please excuse any mistakes! I'm definitely not a professional writer, and I'm constantly trying to edit my own work, but sometimes when you read something ten times in a row the letters blend together and everything looks right.

Thanks for the Reviews and Favorites! Honestly, they keep me writing.