Chapter 10: In Which Olivia Explains Fan Fiction to Steve

I wasn't a particularly athletic person—all I did was write and surf the internet—so when I started rushing down the avenue with thirteen bags on my arms, my body began to complain. Everything started burning; my arms, my legs.

My feet and my lungs most of all. But I still pushed forward, the phone to my ear, breathing heavily through my mouth because my heart was racing a mile a minute.

"Steve," I said into the phone between deep breaths. "Whatever you do. . .do not hang up!" "Okay," he was whispering now. "But don't worry, he won't find me." The light up ahead was a red light for pedestrians.

Damn. I skidded to a halt, ending up among the crowd of other people waiting to cross the street. "You hid?" I asked as I took a moment to catch my breath. "Yup." Steve agreed, sounding quite proud of this fact.

I would have laughed at his tone of voice, had the situation not been as grave as it was. "Great," I said, my eyes steadied on the traffic light. I was waiting for that walking sign to flash.

"Give me a play by play, what's up?" The minute the words left my mouth, the sign flashed. I bolted, pushing through the crowd, reaching the front and sprinting across the street.

Many a people screamed angrily at me, but I didn't care. This was a major emergency. I didn't even slow down once I reached the sidewalk; I weaved in and out of bodies, halfway knocking over a couple people in the process. I still didn't care; I needed to get home ASAP.

It was kind of stupid to be running, though. I still needed to catch the bus.

"Umm. . ." Steve murmured confusedly. "Play by play means tell you exactly what's going on, right?" "Yeah," I agreed, sounding calmer than I actually felt. "Okay, he's already left your room—" "Shit," I murmured, accidently cutting him off. "Sorry. Continue." "And he's already gone back downstairs. Edward told him that he didn't know where you were. I'm not sure where he is now." "Shit, shit, triple shit. . ." I cursed angrily.

I was only a block away from the bus stop, which meant I had another street to cross. That would have been great; had the bus not been pulling up exactly when the little hand signal popped up; y'know, the one that says DON'T WALK. I stomped my feet in anger. Ooh, I was going to get in so much trouble. . .My phone beeped. I checked the screen, which made my right arm hurt even more.

Dad. "Steve, hold on, Dad's calling me," I said, and before he could reply I switched lines. I tried to sound innocent and so totally not out of breath. "Hi Daddy," I answered. Dad's baritone voice sounded anything but convinced. "Olivia Wilde," he hissed angrily. "Tell me, what is the rule for coming home after school?" I sighed, like I would have if this was any other day.

"Daaaaad," I whined in a cutesy voice that I prayed he would buy. The light switched to WALK. Instead of melted in with the crowd as they moved across the painted white lines on the asphalt, I sprinted in front of them like I had before. "It was just this once. Emmy, Jonesy and me wanted to go to the mall, that's all." Yup. This lying thing is definitely becoming a really bad habit nowadays. "I promise. I won't do it again without calling someone first. I'm coming home now."

And, to add double innocence, I said; "How'd you know I wasn't home anyway?" I tried to keep my voice even, to make it no sound like I was rushing to get to the bus, which was filling with passengers. "Because I'm home now." "Oh!" I put fake happiness in my voice. "Yay! That's great, Dad. Mom might be home this evening, too." "I doubt that," Dad answered plainly. "I'll only be home for a few days, Olivia."

I resisted the urge to hoot and holler as climbed up the bus stairs just as the doors were about to close. I managed to squeeze my bags through the narrow entryway. "Alright, well, I'm on the bus now, I'll be home in a few minutes," I said. Being true to self, Dad didn't even bother to say bye before he hung up. I waited for a few seconds before redialed, hoping Steve would answer even though I told him not to.

And plus, I figured that if he answered, Edward would think my Dad had answered and vice versa. Unless of course, they were in the same room. Which had a 3% chance of happening. I settled into a chair, resting my bags on the floor and the seat beside me, but keeping a close eye on everything because on the bus, things had a habit of, how should I say it, walking away. "Hello?" I thanked God that Steve had answered. "I told you to hold on, why'd you hang up?" I asked.

"I couldn't hear anything anymore so I figured you had hung up," he replied. As the bus revved into motion, I stared out the window of the bus. I'm talking on the phone to Captain America. Screamed my brain. This=amazing. "No, I just switched to the other line." I explained. Steve was shocked. "You can do that?!" he asked in a shrill voice.

I threw my head back with a laugh that I had to half-suppress to keep from being too loud. "Yes Steve," I answered slowly, and I heard him chuckling. "You can." "Looks like I'm just as displaced here as am I back home, huh?" I leaned my forehead against the glass, shutting my eyes only slowly. "Nah, I don't mind," I said softly. "Actually I'm glad you're here."

"Why?" he asked, and I shrugged even though he couldn't see me. "I'm a huge fan of the Avengers," I explained. "And now that you guys are—" My eyes flew open and I looked around the bus nervously. What if someone was listening? Trust no one, Said my brain, and I decided to listen to it for once. "You guys are. . .y'know, it's really. . .really cool." "Yeah," there was a wistful tone in his voice.

"Speaking of the others, I think they'll end up here too," That comment made me sit up bolt right in my seat. "Really?!" I nearly yelled. "Yes," he agreed, his voice solemn. "So we should stay on the lookout for them." "But don't you think they'll come the same way you did?" I lowered my voice to a whisper, even though no one seemed to be paying much attention to me. Well, expect for the random baby. But babies always stare at me.

"Don't you think they'll come through a storm?" I reasoned. "Or some other weird occurrence?" "I'm not sure," I could almost hear Steve pacing. "But if so, then we should be on the lookout for storms of all kinds; and not just ones in New York. It's possible that they could have landed already, just in other places around America. . .or maybe not even America, maybe the whole world."

I gulped, thinking of Tony Stark in the middle of Afghanistan.

"God, I hope not. . ." I murmured. "And if they did, there's nothing we can do, is there?" "No," he agreed reluctantly. "No way to contact them, no way to get to them. . ." he sighed. "Olivia, you shouldn't worry. This isn't your problem, this is mine." "But we're in this together, aren't we?" I asked hopefully. There was a pause; a very long pause. A long pause that I really didn't like.

Finally, Steve sighed. "It's not that I don't appreciate your help—I do, really—but you're just a kid. A normal, everyday girl." My heart sank. So that's what he thought of me. He thought that I was nothing more than a little girl trying to help. He didn't even think of me as a friend. Just some pesky little seventeen-year-old who was getting involved in grown folks' business. "And for you to deal with alien invasions, world conquerors and super villains. . .well, it's unfair." He added. "And dangerous. I don't want you getting involved in. . .in all this."

I swallowed hard. "Well, I already am," I snapped, sounding extremely angry even though I was only a little annoyed. "And I'm going to help you, whether you want me to or not. Because, get this, I want to help save the world. And, believe this or not, you need me. This isn't your dimension, it's mine. I know my way around this place and I know what to do.

"And, in case you forgot, you're no more than a kid yourself right now. So I think you're really going to need me if you plan on not bringing attention to yourself. And I hear what you're saying about how you don't want me to get in trouble and all, but it's too late for that now. I'm already knee deep in trouble. So you might as well just suck it up and deal with it." I took a deep breath before adding meekly; "Sorry for that. . .umm. . .long rant, back there."

I'm not sure if he laughed or not, but I think he did. "I guess you're right, Olivia," he agreed. "And apology accepted. But I want you to know that I still don't approve of this." "Fine, fine," I rolled my eyes. "You're starting to sound like my dad," he laughed, and I smiled. Okay, maybe we were friends. I don't know, it was kind of hard to tell.

I hoped we were friends.

0o0o0

"Hey Dad," I greeted calmly as I entered the house, lugging my huge shopping bags with me. My father looked up from his cell phone and looked me up and down. "Where's your uniform?" he asked, sounding more confused than suspicious. I closed the front door with the heel of my foot. "In one of the bags," Said my mouth, even though I didn't tell it to. "I took it off and bought this outfit." Dad didn't know the difference between new clothes and old clothes, so I knew I was safe with that lie.

I twirled in front of him for extra effect. "You like?" I asked with a smile. Dad grinned at me, smoothing down my hair. "You look excellent," he agreed. I flashed him another smile before shooting for the staircase, taking them two at a time as usual. "Don't be late for dinner now." He called. "Never am." I replied over my shoulder. "And give your mother a call while you're at it!" he added. "Okay!" I agreed.

I made a beeline for the guest room a.k.a Steve's room before heading to mine. The cool thing about having a huge house with not that many people inside of it is that no one can really hear what the other person is doing. And, on the other hand, that could be the problem with a huge house. It all depended on whether or not you were secretly harboring a person inside of your home.

I knocked on the door. "Clothes delivery," I joked, stepping back for the door I knew opened out instead of in. The doorknob turned and the hinges groaned as the door swung open. Steve looked out at me, and his eyes went huge as soon as he saw all the bags. "Olivia!" he exclaimed. "This isn't all for me, is it?" "Nope." I answered as I charged into the room.

As I set the bags on the floor, Steve closed the door. I picked up one of the biggest bags. "This one is for you," I explained. His eyebrows went up, but a small smile came to his face. "Just that one bag?" he asked. "No," I picked up the other, smaller bag, held it in the air and grinned at him. "This one, too." Steve shook his head with a chuckle. "And the rest are for you?"

"Well. . ." I glanced back at the huge pile of bags that all belonged to me. Wow. This seemed really conceited. "Yeah." I winced. "Look, I'm not self-centered or anything. I just like shopping, and once I get started I kinda can't stop. . ." Steve just laughed. "It's fine, really," he insisted. "I wouldn't have been happy with thirteen bags worth of things, anyways."

I explained to him how I didn't know what size he wore and how I had to guess, and he insisted that he didn't mind—it was the thought that counted. Then we began to fold and put the clothes away. We had an interesting conversation while we did so, too.

We stood across from each other, the bed in-between us, my bags still sitting untouched in the center of the room. "So, Olivia," Steve began. "What grade are you in?" "Hmm?" I looked from the polo shirt I was folding and into his eyes. He was staring at me, waiting for a response. It was easy to get thrown off by him because he looked to be no older that seventeen himself.

"I'm a senior," I answered, looking back down at the shirt. "And no, I don't have a car yet." "You don't want one?" Steve asked. I shrugged, still not looking up at him. I wondered if I should tell him the truth or not. Well, I guess I could tell him some of the truth. "I never got my license," I said, and that was all. "So what about you? Any. . .hobbies?" It was after I said it that I realized I already knew most of his hobbies.

I rephrased my question. "Any hobbies I probably wouldn't know about?" I said, and he chuckled. "This is weird," he said. "Having someone know so much about me—even the private things, or at least things I figured were private—and I know next to nothing about you." "Meh," I shrugged, playing it cool. "Fame can do that to you." I noticed that we only had four items left to fold.

I knew it wasn't me; I was a horrible folder. I glanced at Steve, who was moving like grease lightning. Ah, that explains it. But it also took away any other excuse I'd have to be in here. Other than, y'know, being the annoying little kid I knew he saw me as. "Well, I can tell you about me, even some of the so call private things, so we'll be even." I took a deep breath.

What? I didn't mind confiding in him. I knew Steve well enough to know that he wouldn't tell my secrets to anyone. It wasn't like I was talking to Tony. "I like being on the computer—that's pretty much all I do all day. I absolutely love music, and I'm a pretty good artist too. Oh, and like writing too, poems, stories, fan fiction, you name it—" "What's fan fiction?" he asked.

Hoo boy.

I took another deep breath. How was I supposed to explain this? "Well, say you watched a movie. And you really like that movie. And that move may or may not begin with the letter A, preceding a 'the', but we're not going to get into that," I rolled my eyes and he smiled. "Well, you write your own stories about it. . .even though the concept wasn't your idea, the stories are."

It took him a moment but he finally got it. "Ah. Sounds. . .interesting," he said. "It is," I agreed. "So did you write any about me?" A dry laugh escaped me before I could figure out what to say. "Ahh. . .kinda," I scratched behind my ear, like I did when I was usually unsure of what to do.

"Possibly. Maybe. Y-Yeah, yeah, I did." "Can I read—" "No!" I answered, a little too loudly and a little too quickly. "Oh. Sorry," he apologized, and I shook my head. Damn it, I cursed myself. Why can't I ever just write good, clean, nice fan fiction?

Because it doesn't exist. Answered the sarcastic part of my brain.

There were no more clothes left to fold. Good! I no longer had a reason to be in here; and I didn't want one anymore. The air was filled with awkwardness. "I mean, it's. . .it's private stuff for me," I shrugged. "So. . .umm. . .yeah. Maybe I could write some more and let you see it. Kinda. Possibly. Maybe." Steve laughed a bit. "If you want to," he agreed. I awkwardly moved towards the door, trying to seem nonchalant and epically failing. "Okay. Cool. I'll. . .get right on that." I grinned nervously at him before quickly slipping out of the room. "Okayyeahnicetalkingtoyoubye."

I closed the door behind it, moving quickly to get to my own room. Once I was safely inside, I closed the door and collapsed face first on my bed. "Oh God," I sighed. "That was so awkward and weird and. . .ack. I'm such an idiot."