Chapter 13

I knew just because I was working out with the Avengers didn't mean it would have an effect any sooner than working out at a gym. And I really couldn't expect it to have changed that much so quickly. It had only been a week.

And yet, I found myself more than a little put out as I chased my skip, Blake Peterson, through the mall and noted that he was widening the gap between us.

"Damnit!" I cursed under my breath. "Son of a bitch!"

"STOP! Bond enforcement!" I yelled, not for the first time since he'd started running from me in the mall. I was getting more out of breath by the second, and my focus was primarily split between my FTA and trying to suck in more air.

And that was why I didn't see either thing that happened next coming.

The first was Steve, although usually happy to leave me to my bounty hunting on my own, deciding to intervene oh so carefully. I almost didn't recognize him with his baseball cap pulled low and the jacket he had hiding his physique. I might not have given how intent I was on my target if I hadn't seen him, walking toward us, stick his foot out and send my skip sprawling without breaking stride.

Probably I should have been offended that he hadn't let me finish the job myself, but I was so happy to not have to run any further that not even a trace of annoyance crossed my mind.

Of course that could have also been because of the second thing that happened right as I got to Blake and started wrestling him into handcuffs.

A woman dressed as a cat yowled, "pussy" at me and threw an actual cat on me. A giant fucking cat at that.

I'll admit, I was taken by surprise enough that I freaked out and screamed as the cat made contact with my body, which in turn scared the cat whose claws dug into my flesh.

"Shit! FUCK! SON OF A BITCH!" I yelled as I attempted to pull the cat off myself, feeling its claws, which were apparently hooked into me, rip more skin off as they exited.

Peterson was still struggling under me, so I only felt minimally guilty when I dropped the cat on top of him.

"JESUS CHRIST!" He yelled, "Get it OFF me!"

I shamelessly finished cuffing him then stood up trying to assess how to get the cat back off him without shedding any more blood.

Apparently the cat saw that as an opportunity because as soon as I was up and it had more space, it was out of there faster than a speeding bullet.

I pulled Blake to his feet, and looked over at where the woman who'd thrown the cat was standing hands over her mouth in horror.

"What the hell?!" I asked her, trying hard not to start shouting and causing even more of a scene. "Are you the person who vandalized my car?"

"N-n-n-n-oooo," she half wailed. "I'm so sorry. He told me it was your cat, you'd catch it, and the 'pussy' thing was an inside joke so you'd know who had found your cat for you."

"What?" I spat out. "You're making no sense."

"Some man left that cat on my porch in a cage with a cell phone taped to it," she told me. "When I opened my door, the phone rang, so I answered it."

"Sure," I said slowly. I mean, I probably would have done the same.

"He told me he was a neighbor of yours and he'd just found this cat that was on the missing posters but he was allergic and couldn't bring it to you himself. And he said you were such a cat person that you'd get a kick out of the costume and preferred the term 'pussy' in reference to cats," she said it all so earnestly I could only draw the conclusion that she 100% believed what she was saying.

"And you believed him?" I couldn't stop myself from asking the question. I was utterly fascinated by her stupidity.

To be fair, she looked absolutely mortified at the moment, so at least she probably understood now how dumb it all was.

Before she could respond, a security guard came up with the demon cat in his arms hissing and said, "ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to take your cat and leave."

"That's not my cat!" I argued. "I don't have a cat! I have a hamster!"

The woman had fled as soon as my attention was turned away from her, so I couldn't exactly try to get her to take the cat or responsibility for the situation.

"A number of people saw you with this cat, Lady." The guard told me, "you need to take it and go."

"She assaulted me with that cat," Peterson interjected.

"Oh give me a break," I rolled my eyes. "That woman threw the cat on me, and it scratched the hell out of me. You got off easy. And I don't care what you do with that thing, but I'm not taking. It!"

I was addressing the guard by the end and suggested, "call Animal Control or something."

A murmur ran through the crowd that had gathered around us at that suggestion. Apparently Animal Control was likely to take the cat to the pound where it would be killed if nobody adopted it fast enough.

Popular opinion seemed to be that this was an adult cat, and adult cats weren't adopted out as easily.

"Cry me a freaking river. Not my cat, not my problem," I thought.

Except the cat had stopped hissing and now was looking at me all pitiful and remorseful.

"I can't have a cat," I told it, almost apologetically. "I have a hamster."

The rumbling in the crowd was getting more and more intense, and I thought I heard the words, "cat killer" thrown around.

"Cripes!" I yelled. "Just give me the damn cat!"

I used the arm not holding my skip to scoop up the cat and started to leave when an old lady called out from the crowd, "what are you doing? You can't just take a cat in the car like that! You need a carrier!"

Twenty minutes later I had a cat carrier, cat food, litter, a litter box, and a free sample of treats that I was wrestling out to the car with my skip- all for a cat I had no intention of keeping. And I walked out to the parking lot where my car had been parked.

I stopped short, and Peterson complained, "come on. I don't have all day, you know."

Actually, I was pretty sure court was already closed for the day, and so he did, in fact, have all day, but I didn't think I should tell him that.

"I have a cat that… I just don't know what," I started. "And my fucking beautiful car is on fire."

"So. Does that mean I get to go?" Peterson asked.

"No you don't get to go!" I shouted at him.

A car pulled up to the curb in front of us with a screech of tires, and the driver got out. I had a flash of recognition that it was actually Bucky (with his head down and face shielded from us, metal arm hidden in a jacket) just in time to catch the keys he threw to me as he took off at a run away from us.

"Thanks!" I called out after him, and his hand shot up in acknowledgement.

"WANT A CAT?!" I tried yelling after him, but he was already gone.

Fifteen minutes later, I was walking back out of the police station, and the car Bucky had given me was gone. It was possible that it had been stolen, so I hadn't really been looking forward to driving it again anyway.

Of course, that meant I was stranded.

Bright side- the cat had been in the car. So whatever had happened to it, that was no longer my problem.

I pulled out my phone, trying to decide who to call.

Ranger was in the wind, but I could call his second in command, Tank, and he would have a Rangeman come pick me up.

I could call my parents' house, and my dad would come get me in the taxi. Of course, then I would have to tell them that I'd destroyed two more cars and lost a third (maybe. It was also possible Bucky had taken it back), and my mom would start ironing away her stress and asking me why I couldn't be more like my perfect sister, Valerie.

There had been a brief moment in time where Valerie hadn't been perfect. Her husband had left her for the babysitter, she'd moved back home, and she'd gotten pregnant before she got married to my now brother-in-law. Of course, she now was married to him, and they churned more children out at a frightening rate, but my mother seemed pleased as punch with all the grandchildren, so I was the problem child once more.

I pulled my phone out and stared at it, but before I could a black Porsche Cayenne pulled up. Ranger.

"Babe," he said when I opened the door.

"I thought you were in the wind," I questioned.

"I'm back," he needlessly explained. Which was a surprise. Ranger rarely said more than was absolutely necessary.

He pulled away from the curb and we drove in silence for a couple minutes before he said, "what's going on between you and the Captain?"

I squirmed in my seat uncomfortably as I said, "he's protecting me, and we're getting to know each other."

"I didn't think you went for the boy scout type," he told me. "Morelli couldn't handle your job, but you think Captain America will? What is he going to do when you break the law to catch a skip?"

I sat there fuming for a couple minutes, taking deep breaths and counting. Confusing lust and sexual encounters aside, Ranger really had become one of my best friends. And I wanted to preserve that.

"You've told me to move on more than once," I told him.

"I have," Ranger agreed. I cast a glance sideways at him, and saw his jaw clenched tight despite his otherwise blank face. "He still doesn't seem like your type."

"Steve took down the world's biggest spy agency in like a day," I reminded him.

"So it's Steve now, is it?" Ranger asked.

It seemed Natasha was right, and Ranger was putting a lot of significance on the change in how I addressed Steve. Of course, calling him Captain Rogers HAD been my way of trying to remind myself that I could look but not touch when I first met him, so I supposed they all had a point.

"Why do you care?" I asked bluntly. "You can't have a relationship because your karma is all messed up and you have bad enemies, and I need to look somewhere else if I want that. So why do you care where I look?"

"I don't want you to get hurt," Ranger said quietly.

"Physically or emotionally? Because I seem to do a good job of stumbling into danger on my own anyway," I told him.

"Or because I'm helping you," I thought, but I didn't really want to guilt him at the moment, so I didn't say it outloud.

Instead I added, "and no matter who I date, emotional is always at risk. And to answer your earlier question, I do think that he will support my job."

I decided not to mention how much Steve and his teammates had been working with me over the last week while Ranger was gone.

"What if I was willing to give you more?" Ranger asked quietly.

I went completely still. I didn't know how to handle this moment. I'd never seen it coming.

"Are you?" I finally asked.

We pulled into the parking lot, and Ranger turned off the car. We both sat there without talking for a few more beats before Ranger looked over at me, smiled, and brushed my hair behind my ear. "I could try."

Ooooh boy. The look he gave me was pretty much the definition of smolder. And since I'd gotten to know Ranger, I had dreamed of this moment.

But here's the thing. I didn't actually believe him.

Well, he might try, but I really wasn't sure his heart would be in it. Or maybe that wasn't fair. Really I wasn't sure that he COULD give me that.

I looked at him for a couple loud, thunderous beats of my heart longer, and then I quietly unbuckled my seatbelt, and I put my hand on the door handle. Ranger's hand came up onto my arm closest to him, and he asked, "Babe."

"I don't think you could," I finally said. Then I gathered up all my mental fortitude and used it to push the door open and get out of the car.

I half expected Ranger to follow me, but he didn't. So I walked across the parking lot and up to my apartment, still in a bit of a shock over that entire conversation having happened.

When I opened my front door, I could hear music playing quietly and I wasn't surprised to find that it was Steve who was inside already, sitting on my couch and waiting for me.

He was looking right at the entryway when I walked in, clearly braced and ready for a fight if necessary. But as soon as he saw me, he relaxed and gave me a big smile as he got to his feet.

And it really should be illegal for a man to look THAT good.

All at once I was hit with an overwhelming wave of guilt, and something must have showed on my face because his smile dimmed just before I blurted out, "Ranger's back."

Steve raised his brow, but his smile came back as he said, "I know."

"Right, business partners," I realized.

"Also you're still wearing your earpiece," he told me gesturing upwards. Then he strode to me, and cupped my chin with one hand while pulling the earpiece out with the other. "Are you okay?"

I blew out a breath that might have been a little shaky. But once I did, I realized I actually really was feeling better.

"Yes," I told him. "He was acting a little weird, and well, I mean, you heard."

Steve dropped a quick kiss to my lips, and he looked me in the eyes as he said, "he's realized what he's losing. Can't say I blame him for being upset about that."

"You're not mad?" I asked incredulously.

"Why would I be mad?" He seemed surprised. "You're your own person, and you told him the truth."

Then his face turned a little sly as he added, "which reminded me that we've only had the one date so far, so I thought maybe tonight we could have another?"

"Sure!" I agreed. "What do you want to do?"

An almost pained look crossed Steve's face, and I was pleased to realize that I already knew what it meant. Steve needed to say something, but for some reason, he was worried that whatever it was he would fumble. And that I'd get mad. Because Steve wasn't always the smoothest, and I knew he sometimes felt like the scrawny man he had been before the serum.

I smiled and said expectantly, "yes?"

"I think you probably want to clean up a little before we do anything else," he told me. Then he rushed to reassure me, "you look great, I'm just worried about those scratches getting infected."

I looked down at myself and remembered my incident with the cat with a wince. I was pretty sure I didn't actually look great.

"Yes," I agreed. "I'll go take a quick shower and then see what else I have to go on the scratches."

"Take your time," Steve told me. "We're in no rush."

I could tell that he genuinely meant it, but at the same time, he'd showered in my apartment before, and I was aware of the fact that he could do so in under two minutes. And still come out smelling and looking great.

I walked into my bathroom to start up the shower and took a deep breath. Speaking of smelling great, he'd obviously been in there earlier. He actually reminded me a little of Ranger in the way that his scent kinda lingered. Though in Steve's case, I was pretty sure it wasn't body wash. If anything I thought it might be his shaving cream. I'd never seen so much as a hint of five o'clock shadow on him, and I figured that must mean he shaved regularly.

Not that I'd seen a trace of his toiletries, stubble, or any other mess anywhere in my bathroom. I was hoping he wasn't so neat that he wouldn't be able to handle my definite lack of neatness.

Realizing that I had drifted off into thought, I shook myself back to attention. Then I quickly tested the water temperature and jumped in the shower, letting out a hiss of pain as the hot water reached my MANY scratches.

When I got back out, I quickly pulled on a thong, clean jeans and a bra, feeling a little weird standing around naked in my apartment with my boyfr… no. We hadn't gotten that far yet. I guess he was the guy that I was dating, and kissing sometimes, and almost living with due to extenuating circumstances who was kind of also like a bodyguard in a way.

That was a long label for him. Steve. Maybe I'd just think of him as my Steve.

I smiled to myself at the thought then was brought back to myself once more, this time by a brief knock on the door. It was followed by the man in question opening the door and calling in to me, "I brought first aid supplies."

I looked down at my bra. It had lace on the sides and back, but the front was opaque. And I had pants on, so I was more covered than at a trip to the beach, if you thought about it.

"I'm mostly decent," I responded. "You can come in."

Steve opened the door the rest of the way and immediately froze. His eyes were fixated on me, and I immediately felt a hint of dread in the pit of my stomach. Suddenly I was wishing that I'd given up doughnuts years ago. Or maybe that I'd started working out more recently than just the past week.

My arms came up over my front and I stammered out, "I'm sorry. I didn't think-"

I trailed off not really sure how I was going to finish that sentence. I hadn't thought it was a big deal until I was actually in the moment.

Once he was there looking at me, I was painfully aware that Steve had not, in fact, seen me naked or without a shirt yet. And also he didn't have any spare fat on his own body.

Steve cleared his throat and looked up at me. It was like he had switched a flip and he was all business as he laid the kit out on the counter and pulled out items. He turned toward me as he said, "it's fine. I've had to clean Natasha up after battles before."

Then he froze again, and this time he flushed red.

"I just made it so much worse, didn't I," he asked in a panic.

Weirdly that was the moment that made me okay once more. But I couldn't resist teasing him just a touch as I said, "well that depends. Is that your way of telling me that you're not interested in my body? Or that you lied to me when you told me that you and Natasha were just friends and teammates and never had or wanted anything more?"

Steve's eyes widened further as he said, "neither! Definitely neither. You look- you are-" he cut off and flushed again, this time in frustration.

"You look beautiful," he finally told me. And when he managed to actually look me in the face again and realized I was teasing him, he relaxed enough to smile and say, "and Natasha and I never."

"Okay," I said softly with a gentle smile. After all, he really had been nice about the whole Ranger thing, especially considering I had sex with Ranger right before Steve and I started seeing each other. Not that Steve and I had any kind of agreement or anything.

"This might sting a little," Steve said apologetically as he focused on the task at hand.

I sucked in a breath but didn't say anything as the initial pain flared. Once I got used to it, I asked, "what are we?"

"Huh?" Steve asked somewhat distractedly. He was clearly concentrating.

"I mean, to each other."

Steve seemed to ponder that a little as he said, "well, we're in a bit of a strange situation because we're getting to spend a lot of time together all at once. But we've just started dating."

"So are we… exclusive?" I asked.

"Well, I'm not seeing anyone else," Steve told me diplomatically. "But I don't expect you to necessarily feel the same so soon, and I'm okay with it if you're not willing to make that commitment… yet."

Honestly that surprised me a little, so I thought about it. I'd expected him to be a little more old fashioned, even though from some of the stories he'd told me, I knew he definitely wasn't the virgin the internet and late night comedians liked to imply he was.

"When would you want that?" I prodded.

"It's not just my decision," he pointed out. "But I really like you, and I'd like this to become something real. So I think when we get to the point where we're having sex, I'd like to know that I was your only guy, and you were my only girl."

That was kind of adorable. But also the idea of having sex with Steve made me hot all over, and I was once more extremely aware that I was in my bra.