Feelings

Steve had known Eleanor for nearly three months. On their sixth dinner together at her apartment, he arrived nearly an hour early and insisted on helping her in the kitchen. That night specifically neither of them found a need to speak much. Eleanor had spent most of her Tuesday at the Humane Society, and Steve had just returned from his week-long trip to DC. While they had talked nearly every night on the phone about their days, many of the general subjects had been breached, and their friendship had progressed very quickly when she considered the amount of time they had known each other.

Eleanor sipped on her wine and hummed to the music they had playing in the background while they waited the final ten minutes for the food to cook. The salad had been prepared, garlic bread toasted, and the alfredo was starting to make the entire kitchen smell fantastic, much to her stomach's displeasure. Steve had insisted on laying the table for the two of them, all but pushing her toward the couch in the living room and away from her dining table. Even so, his attention was split between watching her and making sure the table was ready to eat at. Ella knelt next to her bookshelf and began asking questions about movies he had or had not seen up until that point.

"A Comedy?" She said aloud rocking onto her heels. There was a large gust of wind against the window facing the front of the apartments the rain came down violently. Steve has actually gone as far as to borrow a car Tony kept in the Stark Tower Garage.

"Yeah. I've been through half the Disney Movies, we finished Star Wars separately, saw that movie about the computer women…"

"Hidden Figures"

"Yeah. Now something fun."

"I don't have very many comedy's, because some of them have too much stupid humor and not enough creative humor."

"A classic would be fine, I know you have a few of those"

"We could try—" Eleanor was cut off by the oven's beeping and took out a movie to place next to the DVD player and her television. She made her way into the kitchen with Steve peeking over her shoulder as she pulled out their dinner and checked to make sure it was done before setting it on the stove top to cool off for a little bit. When she turned around she grinned at him and shifted her weight. "It's ready, and it looks delicious."

She was right. They took their time at the dinner table, discussing potential movie options, and laughing over short instances of their weeks, like Eleanor walking three huge dogs on her latest shift at the Humane Society. She teased Steve over his runs in DC, which had almost instantly made the news because no one could run that many laps around the Washington Monument. When that man was in DC, the whole world knew.

He told her a bit more about the exhibit that he would be featured in, and about the photos that he went through, as well as mentioning a bit about the SHIELD trainings he had attended, the new fighting styles he was learning from the spies and how excited he was that the communication tech made operations a lot easier in the ever-complicating world of the 21st century. He was excited to be cleared for his first mission, hopefully after his next therapy session scheduled in a month.

Eleanor's response had jokingly been, "They have to clear you as sane first." Causing a scoff and more laughter at the table.

Steve had just finished telling a story about him and Bucky climbing into an abandoned house on their search for adventure when they were ten. It had ultimately ended in finding a feral cat, realizing it had kittens, spooking it, and then Bucky getting the brunt of the cat's attack when he and Steve got too close. Their meal was just about finished, and Steve was glad that Ella didn't mind cooking enough to feed him. It had taken a few meals for her to notice that he could eat more than he let on, mostly a result of the super soldier serum.

"I always talk about my adventures growing up, why don't you ever you mention your childhood?" He had noticed that it wasn't really in her personality to talk about herself, and it hadn't really bothered him, as she tended to ask the right questions to keep the conversation going. The anecdotes and comments she did make, were always very witty.

"I just mean, my childhood is not really a dinner conversation… it was rough and lonely, but that's why I like hearing about yours" Eleanor shrugged and leaned back in her seat, watching him with a relatively guarded expression. She seemed to look over the counter at the window to the back ally of her apartment- it wasn't much of a view, just another brick building. Her shoulders slumped a bit and she took another sip the wine he had brought, her glass was already close to empty and she averted her gaze for a moment. After a beat of silence, she knew he was calculating his next words.

The music she had playing through her speakers was peaceful, and as the song changed she stood up to grab the dishes. Steve could already tell she was avoiding his follow up question. He followed her with the dishes he could grab into the kitchen, standing next to her as she turned on the water to begin scrubbing them down.

"Why was your childhood so lonely? I can't imagine children not liking you." He had only seen one picture of her when she was small, she kept it in a frame next to her television. She and her mother sat laughing at what looked to be the beach, her grin bright and happy, just as anyone would expect.

There was a shaded chuckle as she scrubbed the dishes a bit harder. "It wasn't the other kids; my home life was—not the best. I didn't want anyone to know so I avoided making friends."

"Was it your father?" Steve knew that it may be time to stop probing, but his curiosity got the best of him. While that photo of her mother seemed to exist in the house, along with her occasional mention, he couldn't recall her ever bringing her father up in a conversation. At his reference though, he saw her bit her lip. She put the plate she had finished scrubbing onto the counter after she rinsed it off. Steve picked it back up and wiped it down with the towel he had grabbed from the refrigerator.

"Yeah. He was a high functioning drunk. I think it was probably PTSD from Vietnam. We owned an auto shop and he was a mechanic. He'd work four days in a week and drink and yell and beat on us the other three." She handed him the next plate and moved onto the empty pot. Steve could remember reading about the results of PTSD, the updated medical journals surrounding the research of ex-combat soldiers. The struggles they dealt with at their return. He could also remember the result of the first world war, the horror stories and changed men who had returned from Europe.

In his day, abuse in the home was common and almost socially acceptable. While hard beatings and wife hitters were frowned upon, there was a silent agreement in society where what happened in a house generally never left it. Times were especially difficult with the depression and the illnesses and other stresses families had to endure. His dad had never been that kind of person at least that's what his mother had always told him, and neither would he or Bucky. Bucky's family was probably one of the most smoothly functioning ones in Brooklyn at the time too. Perhaps the positive relationships he'd been surrounded with were what built him into the person that couldn't stand anyone mistreating anyone else. Despite getting into a ton of fights growing up, he couldn't imagine the trauma that violence could cause a young girl. Especially in modern times where abuse was largely frowned upon. It was a conversation people had, charges could be pressed, resources existed.

"Did no one ever say anything?"

Eleanor her lips fell into a straight line and shook her head slightly. "I think people knew it was happening, but they didn't realize how bad it had gotten. Where we were from, no one really wanted to listen to a kid or pre-teen who didn't have extensive physical proof. I was already a clumsy kid, so only half my bruises were caused by him. He aimed for the areas that were easiest to cover. And even if I wanted to, I was too scared to speak up anyway." She didn't look up at him but kept scrubbing and rinsing and passing. "He always told me I was a burden, and I didn't want my problems to be a burden on anyone else. So, I ostracized myself from the other kids to keep a secret because I thought it'd be life or death if someone found out."

She was quiet for a moment as she finally turned off the water but didn't move away from the sink and Steve could see the deep-seated pain in her eyes as they seemed to stare into the distance. He could almost read right through her. She had stopped her story there, but he knew there was more. "What happened? Did you leave?" his own voice seemed to drop to almost a whisper, the music in the background doing nothing to change the darkening mood in the kitchen. She made eye contact with him then, and he hadn't seen the emotions she suddenly conveyed ever before that moment. They reminded him briefly of the looks the soldiers gave him just before he went to save Bucky. But she maintained eye contact to answer his question.

"Not really. I-…He was having a bad night, I was 12 and I remember dropping a beer bottle and the glass shattering everywhere. He went after me, but my mother stepped in. There was yelling, followed by screaming, and I found my way into a cabinet in the kitchen until everything went silent. And I waited for my mother to come and get me, but she never did."

"Eleanor—" There honestly were no words that he could think to respond with, and she looked away again. Her head turned completely away from him.

Her voice stayed steady and flat "They told me it wasn't my fault, but honestly I don't know if he'd killed her or her injuries had. There was a lot of blood. I was just an indirect witness during the trial, but the evidence was insurmountable." She shrugged. "And then I was moved to an orphanage that didn't have the funding to adequately and equally pay attention to all of the children. I was too old to be adopted, so that made me old enough to take care of myself, alas, that's what I did." Before she could walk by he moved in front of her, lightly wrapping his arms around her shoulders when she didn't look up at him. She froze for a moment before her own arms reached up and she buried her head into his chest. "I've had a bit of therapy since, but it's still a pretty sensitive subject, it's probably one of the reasons I don't have friends. My therapist a while back mentioned I was too guarded," she mentioned into his chest.

They stood still for a few minutes, just embracing one another before Steve took a step back, he lifted his open hand toward the living room. "You said something about GhostBeaters?"

The change in mood was immediate. "Ghostbusters" She couldn't help but giggle, raising a hand to wipe her eyes, which still had water in the corners of them.

Steve just gave her a look of bewilderment, still not sure what this comedy would entail. "Shall we move to the couch then?"

Her response was another giggle and a nod. The mood seemed to lift once more and he took her by the hand to the couch, setting her down in the middle and putting the DVD into the player, grabbing the remote as she had taught him on one of the previous nights. She leaned back, propping her feet up on the small coffee table and he sat closest to the arm of the chair, resting his arm across the back and behind her head. This had come to be their TV spots, close enough for her to nudge him for the best parts of the movies they had seen so far.

With a few clicks of the button, they officially settled into the movie. Ghostbreakers. Or something like that.

Despite her light laughs through the movie, he realized that she had become much quieter as the movie went on. When her head sagged on his shoulder, he finally realized that she'd fallen asleep. It hadn't been the first time she'd fallen asleep during a movie, but it was the first time she'd fallen onto his shoulder. Noting that the day had likely been long at school for her and their conversation at dinner hadn't been the most light-hearted, he sat as still as possible, just to let her get her rest while he finished the movie she insisted was a classic. But once the credits were rolling, he couldn't help but nudge her awake.

Her eyes watered as she yawned and sat up straight, only to freeze as she realized she had taken a bit of a cat nap.

"I'm going to head home, and let you get some sleep in." He chuckled as she turned a light pink and rubbed the back of her neck.

She laughed too and stifled another yawn. "Sorry for falling asleep on you…Again!" He helped her stand up from the couch and she followed him to the entryway of her apartment. Opening the door the rain had lightened up but still fell in a bit of a drizzle.

Drowsy eyed, but also with a small smile she nodded her head as he reminded her to lock the door behind him and grabbed his leather jacket off the hook. She gave him a prolonged hug before stepping away and looking up to him. For a second, he thought about the dark conversation they'd had and how she still stood in front of him with a dimple on her cheek. Her hair was slightly frizzy from laying down, but she stood with a straight back and light in her eyes, no matter the horrors she had seen in her life or the abuse she had overcome. He'd realized that she was not a normal, everyday, modern girl. No. She was more than that to him. She was perfect. His mind flipped back to just over a week ago what the old man had said in the café. Something clicked. He realized, in that moment that he-

"What?" She laughed, realizing the extended eye contact without any words being spoken.

Steve just smiled back at her. "Nothing. I'll let you know when I get home."

"You better." She pointed at him with her index finger and laughed. "Drive safe. Good Night Steve."

"Good Night Ella." He stepped out and waited to hear her lock the doors before heading down the stairs, hyperaware that his emotions were different then what they were a few weeks previous.

A/N: Wow! Three updates in two days? I guess I'm getting a bit excited to hit that 40K word mark before I head out of the city again. If I have time, I'll post the next chapter tomorrow.

Reviews keep me going, and if you're enjoying the rapid-fire updates let me know :D Thoughts? Feelings? Wanna try Beta-ing my chapters before I actually release them? Anything but Flames!

Lots of Love from the Middle of Nowhere Asia!