Chapter 8
I awoke from a nightmare in a sweat, groaning when I looked at my bedside clock and saw that it was only 6am. I tried to settle back into sleep, but I felt sticky so there was no way that was happening.
I stumbled into the shower and by the time I felt clean (and my heart rate had returned to normal), I knew all hope of sleep was gone.
Taking a few minutes to dry my hair, I thought about the previous day. I'd met three Avengers, and I'd had another confrontation with Morelli that they had witnessed. Yay.
Of course they'd mostly been kind enough to disappear for a bit after, leaving only Captain Rogers behind. And after one mention of Morelli being an ass, he'd dropped it. He'd also been right both in that hitting something had helped and that I didn't hurt him.
Around the time I'd been feeling like I wasn't in shape enough to box one minute longer, no matter how much better my punching had gotten under Captain Rogers's watchful eye, Nat and Sam had reappeared.
I was pretty sure they'd consulted with Ranger because they brought with them meatball subs from Pino's.
We'd passed the rest of the day pretty easily going between telling stories to get to know one another, and going over the kidnapping and barebones information I'd gleaned from Bucky.
When they'd gone off to the side to strategize for a while, I pulled out my laptop and made myself busy starting to run some searches on Sojourn Enterprises and it's late founder, Richard Frampton. My regular search engines were pulling up bupkis, but I remembered Bucky mentioning a SHIELD/HYDRA connection and made a mental note to ask the Avengers about it and possibly swing by Rangeman to go through their copy of information from the data dump for anything relevant.
We'd had dinner all together in my apartment, and I was contemplating the need for more seating if anyone else showed up. When I'd gotten tired, I had gone to bed with three Avengers still in my living room, and I was curious to see what awaited me in the light of a new day.
Figuring I'd spent as much time as I really could getting ready without it seeming like I was dolling up extra, I went back into my room, dressed, and opened the door into the rest of the apartment.
There was coffee in the coffee pot and Captain Rogers was at the stove, pans sizzling with the makings of a similar breakfast to what Bucky had prepared the day before.
Maybe I took a minute to check out his ass, maybe I didn't. I wasn't telling. Plus I was pretty certain he knew I was there.
I didn't want it to get weird though, so I went over to the coffee and fixed myself a mug. Then I stood at the counter a couple feet away watching him cook for a couple minutes.
"I think Bucky bought those pans," I finally said.
Captain Rogers looked over at me curiously, so I added, "I don't think I had any pans after the last kitchen fire. I'm not much of a cook."
"I can do basics," Captain Rogers told me. "And I've been working on picking up a little more here and there when I can. Nat's actually given me a couple lessons since she got back into town after the hearings."
"I have so many questions," I started, and when Captain Rogers just smiled, I figured I was allowed to ask them. "Is there anything at which Natasha isn't frighteningly competent?"
Captain Rogers seemed to think about that for a while, then he shook his head. "When we were on the run, she seemed surprised that I knew how to hotwire a car. But I didn't get the impression that she couldn't have done it herself if I hadn't. She was just surprised that I could." At my look of surprise he shrugged and said, "Nazi Germany" as if that was explanation enough.
I suppose one picked up a lot of skills in war. Ranger had implied as much as well about his time in Special Forces. And the Howling Commandos were basically the start of Special Forces as far as I knew.
"Did you have more questions?" he asked politely.
As he started plating food up, I managed to set the table and help him carry things over to the table.
"Where is 'into town'?" I asked. Then I accidentally added, "do you live together? Are you an item?"
"No," his denial was quick. And I supposed given what he'd said about their kiss, that made sense. "Tony Stark renamed his tower in Manhattan 'Avengers Tower' and we mostly live there. Though I think he's working on a secondary location for us that might be better long-term."
"Huh," I thought about asking where that secondary location was, but I didn't want him to tell me anything that would make him, or Black Widow, have to kill me. Instead I asked, "did you stay here last night?"
"HYDRA would be most likely to attack at night," he told me by way of answering my question.
I frowned looking over at the couch. It was better than the previous one, but he was pretty tall. I doubt it was all that comfortable.
"You have heating and it is dry. I've stayed in much worse places," he reassured me. "I was comfortable enough, and I don't require much sleep."
"You can't fit on that couch though," I told him. "I'm sure I'll be fine anyway; you've got enough on your plate without worrying about me. Really. I'll be fine."
The look he shot me told me that wasn't an argument I'd win anytime soon, so I dropped it for the time being.
I fixed a plate when he gestured for me to do so, noting that it seemed to be an even more excessive amount of food than Bucky had prepared. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than Natasha materialized next to my chair, and a few moments later, Sam came lumbering in from the foyer.
Well, to be fair, he wasn't overly noisy at all. I had just been alerted to the possibility that he would be around by Black Widow's sudden appearance.
They walked over to the kitchen, grabbed plates and utensils for themselves as I hadn't known to set extras out for them, and helped themselves before sitting down. I mostly listened as they ran through some sort of updates, which seemed to mostly be in code then transitioned into playful banter.
Frankly I was surprised to find that Captain America had a good sense of humor and gave as good as he got. When he finished eating, he excused himself from the table early with a slight apology and walked to the living room.
Living room and kitchen were open to each other with the dining room table and chairs in between, so I could see him pick up a bag from the far side of the couch and then walk into my room, presumably to use the restroom.
I attempted to start cleaning up only to be shoved aside by Sam.
"You wouldn't have dishes to do if it wasn't for us," Natasha said bluntly.
"But you're guests," I half-heartedly protested. My Burg upbringing was telling me I was honor-bound to do the dishes myself, but I didn't really want to do so.
"Nah," Sam protested. "You're a witness or a source or something. You've been dragged into Cap's shit, and we're going to make you safe and not make extra work for you while we do."
"It wasn't Captain Rogers's fault," I told them. "Or Bucky's. In fact, it seems like it isn't even related to HYDRA or anything. I stumble into disasters all the time on my own. This is tangential at best."
Captain Rogers came back out of my room, looking like he'd somehow showered, shaved, and changed in less time than it had taken me to find the right temperature for my shower earlier in the morning. And it was MY shower…
He observed Sam and Natasha efficiently cleaning up, with a satisfied nod and when they were done we sat back down at the table.
"So…" I said awkwardly. "What now? I mean, I need to get back to work today, but what about you all?"
Natasha reached down and pulled a plastic bag up from next to her seat. I hadn't noticed it when she came in, but then again, I didn't think I would notice anything she didn't want me to. She gently tossed it onto the table in front of me, and I looked at it in confusion.
It looked like some sort of pet collar.
"Uhhhhh," I said awkwardly. "If this is some sort of BDSM thing, I'm going to have to go with thanks but no thanks. I don't exactly swing your way, and I'm pretty sure I couldn't handle whatever you would dish out anyway."
Natasha threw her head back and laughed long and hard, Sam joining her after a couple beats. From the corner of my eye, I watched a few emotions flit across Captain Rogers's face that I couldn't identify before he dissolved into laughter as well.
I clapped my hands over my mouth in horror. I couldn't believe I'd just said that in front of Captain America.
Natasha got herself under control first (not all that surprising), and she winked at me before retorting, "Probably not, but I might be able to convince you to try…"
I flushed bright red, and I was relieved when Captain Rogers interrupted with a warning, "Nat."
"You're no fun," she argued with an overblown pout on her face. Then she sobered and said, "you drive the black Jeep parked in the lot, right?"
"Yes," I confirmed, not seeing how those two things connected.
"That was on the passenger seat, and somebody added to your paint job," she reported.
"Son of a bitch," I shouted jumping to my feet. I stormed over to the window across the living room which overlooked the parking lot. Looking down I saw red and yellow spray paint all over my car and squinted to read it asking, "does that say… 'pussy'?!"
Everyone had followed me to the window, and Natasha was to my left as she said, "yes."
"Damn it!" I yelled. I huffed away and flung myself onto the couch probably a touch dramatically. "I've had that car for like two weeks! And I was kidnapped for most of that time! So I don't even think that counts! Why does this always happen to my cars?!"
"Do you have any idea what this means or who would do this?" Captain Rogers asked me calmly.
I sighed, "unless this is some sort of hazing ritual from you all?" They all just shook their heads in response so I shrugged, "no clue. I haven't had any other threats recently that I'm aware of, so probably just a random crazy. Or maybe it wasn't even meant for me. Yeah, I bet that's it!"
I was getting excited, only to have my hopes crushed by Sam who was over inspecting the collar in the bag shaking his head and saying, "I'm guessing you didn't look at this too closely."
I allowed another sigh to escape as I got to my feet and walked back to the table. Inspecting it, I saw that the ID tag simply read, "Stephanie Plum."
Probably that was not a coincidence, I thought with a wince. Oh well, nothing I could do about it without more information, I thought. So I grabbed my messenger bag off the back of my chair, shoved the plastic bag away, and started pulling out files.
The three Avengers watched me curiously for a couple minutes as I started going through the files I still had from the bonds office.
"So…" Sam's voice cut through my train of thought, "Are we just not going to talk about this anymore? And what about your car?"
I just waved away his concern saying, "I have no idea who it is, but they'll make themselves known eventually. And the car will probably be firebombed or smashed or otherwise totaled soon anyway."
"You're going to drive it like that?!" Captain Rogers asked incredulously.
"Assuming whoever did that didn't disable it," I said distractedly. "Not even the worst thing that's been painted on one of my cars."
Everyone was just staring at me, so I finished looking through the FTA files and stood. I put them back into my bag, and I walked over to my cookie jar at the end of the kitchen counter next to the entryway. From it, I pulled out my charged stun gun, double checking the battery before sliding it into the messenger bag as well.
I hesitated for a moment. Someone had trashed my car and clearly wasn't too happy with me. So I resigned myself to it and pulled out the gun, checking to see if it had bullets in it. It did not, and a look in the cookie jar told me that there weren't any in there either. So I looked through a couple kitchen drawers, but I still didn't find any.
With a shrug I put the gun back in the cookie jar. Probably there would be a gradual escalation with the stalker before they turned violent anyway. It would be fine.
I started toward the door only to be yanked back by the strap on my bag by Black Widow (she definitely didn't seem very Natasha-y in that moment).
"Where do you think you're going?" she asked me when I turned around wide-eyed.
"To work?" I replied. I'd thought that was obvious.
"Unarmed?" Captain Rogers commented. He said it like a question, but it really wasn't.
"Well, I'm out of bullets. I keep forgetting to buy more, but who knows? Maybe today is the day!" I forced fake enthusiasm into my voice at the idea, but really I didn't like guns. And I was alright with not having bullets. "And I have my stun gun!"
All three just stared at me, thoroughly unimpressed, so I took the gun back out of the cookie jar and dropped it into my bag.
"Fine! I'll get bullets! Connie probably has some. I'll ask. Scout's honor," I said.
"Were you actually a scout?" Sam asked.
"And if Connie doesn't have bullets for your gun?" Natasha interrupted to ask.
"I'll go get some," I fibbed.
Her eyes narrowed at me, and Captain Rogers just sighed.
"If it makes you feel any better, I don't actually have a permit to carry concealed anyway," I told him. "Wouldn't want me to be breaking the law, right?"
"He's actually not as opposed as you might think," Natasha told me.
I supposed that made sense with the whole hot wiring cars thing.
Well. And the bringing down SHIELD and crashing helicarriers into buildings and the Potomac thing.
Yeah… she had a point.
"Okay, okay. I'll get bullets!" I relented.
"And put them in your gun and carry it with you," Captain Rogers insisted.
"Fine," I grumbled out.
I didn't have to be happy about it.
"Thank you," they chorused.
They didn't even call jinx on each other. How lame was that?
When I started walking toward the door again, everyone seemed to be following me, so I paused. "Are you following me today?" I asked. "I assumed you wanted to keep a low profile."
"Nobody will see us," Captain Rogers told me.
"And I'm going to look over your car," Sam insisted.
I shrugged and grabbed my jacket as I left the apartment, locking up behind us all. When I turned back around, Natasha was already gone and Captain Rogers had a jacket on and a baseball hat pulled down low over his face.
It was the beginning of February in Trenton, so the jacket wasn't a bad idea. I figured one that was more bulky would make him blend in more and hide his physique a bit, but that was his choice.
I certainly wasn't going to complain about the view.
What did surprise me is when I climbed into the Jeep and cranked it over, after it had been fully inspected, and Captain Rogers climbed into the passenger seat.
"Uhhhh," I said, completely surprised.
"Problem?" He asked.
"You're Captain America," I told him.
"Yes," he replied calmly.
"You can't ride around in the Pussy Car," I said. "It's just wrong."
I thought I saw a little smile pass his lips, as though he'd thought about making a joke. Instead, what he said was, "I'm just a person, like you. If the car is good enough for you to ride in, it's good enough for me."
"As refreshing as I find your lack of ego," I started. "And believe me, I do. You aren't just a person like me. You're Captain America."
He just crossed his arms over his chest, so I gave up. But I still didn't put the car in drive. When he looked over at me, I told him, "if you're just a person then you have to wear your seat belt like the rest of us."
He laughed at that, but he immediately complied.
"How is this going to work?" I asked. "Are you coming with me while I chase down skips? Because Lula, at the bonds office, is usually my partner. And I was just kidnapped, so I feel like she's probably going to insist on riding along."
"If she does, then I'll fade into the background. She won't see me." I snorted in disbelief, and he added, "we have a com that we're hoping you'll wear."
"For how long?" I asked. "I'm not letting you track me forever just because Bucky stayed in my apartment two for days while I wasn't even there."
"Let's start with today."
He sounded so calm and reasonable, so I blew out a breath and agreed.
"I'll try to ditch Lula," I told him as a peace offering.
"Whatever makes you most comfortable," he replied.
Here's the thing. As far as partners go, Lula isn't the best. When you combine us, Lula and I are basically Thelma and Louise. Or maybe Lucy and Ethel. At any rate, we're an endless source of calamities and good intentions being overridden by impulsive decisions. And a fundamental failure to fully grasp consequences and predict outcomes only made things worse. Usually we get our man, but there are gunshots and explosions and stampedes and messes along the way.
Probably it was best to leave Lula in the bonds office and not mix our duo with the powder keg that was the Avengers.
I had a file in my bag for Simon Diggery, and assuming Lula hadn't brought him in while I was gone, I could probably hold her off for at least a day with the mention of his boa constrictor only getting bigger since the last time we had seen him.