Author: Salios
Date: July 24/12
Fandom: Harry Potter/Avengers Crossover
Pairing: Harry Potter/Steve Rogers (Cpt. America)
Rating: T-M
Warning: This story will contain male/male relationships, including intimacy ranging from light kissing to possible sex. Swearing, and descriptions of violence and gore also possible.
Disclaimer: I do not own either fandom or their associated characters; this is a fan piece and not written for profit.
Earl Grey and Apple Pie.
Chapter 2
Harry brushed the palms of his hands against his thighs in an attempt to both dislodge any dust from the box, and to stop his hands from fidgeting with the hem of his sweater. It was a bad habit really, rolling the fabric of his clothes between his fingertips. It was a fairly new habit, one he wasn't entirely sure was better than biting his nails or lip, but it quickly frayed many of his favourite sweaters. He was willing to blame Molly Weasley, but somehow he had become rather addicted to comfortable sweaters. He could almost liken his love of the soft, colourful, and often oversized garments to the joy he had seen on Dobby's face at a new pair of socks; and how that house-elf had loved his socks.
He smiled shyly at the blonde man in his doorway and reached out his right hand, "I'm Harry, the owner of this shop." His hands were proportionate with his fairly short and lithe stature, but thick with calluses and scars from a lifetime of hard work and ill-fated adventures.
"Pleased to meet you, I'm Steve." The man's hand was a fair bit larger than his own, and enveloped his fingers in a warm, firm embrace.
Harry had to quickly shake hands and turn before the man had time to notice the vibrant flush that was beginning to colour his cheeks. Shaking hands wasn't supposed to make him look like some pubescent girl!
He gave a soft cough before straightening something on the countertop before him and turning back to the man.
"So, do you know what it is that you're looking for?" He inquired, pushing back the flush of his cheeks and the slight goose-flesh that had risen on his arm.
"Ah, well... Not exactly..." The man's pale cheeks flushed ever so slightly in embarrassment. "It's been quite some time since I've had any opportunity to enjoy a good book, and I was wondering if you could direct me..." He shyly scratched the back of his head with one hand, and glanced away, pink still colouring his cheeks.
"Well, to have a colleague refer you, then you would probably be looking for older material, right?" Having been raised by a family that kept him as far from any modern convenience as possible, and then being immersed in a very technophobic community; due of course to magic generally mucking about with technology and causing all kinds of explosions and disasters, the brunette had stuck with what he knew. He had kept to books from the former half of the century, and hadn't much delved into the newer modern works that seemed to be flooding the literature market. He had read much by Jane Austin and Daniel Defoe, dipping in and out of works by J.R.R. Tolkien, Mercedes Lackey, and even Shakespeare. His preference was in older works, but he wasn't against looking at new material now and then.
The man blinked and then nodded, lowering his hand back to his side. He then promptly hissed as his warm palm touched the cold, sodden fabric of his jacket. Outside of the store was now a complete downpour, wind blowing the thick droplets into sheets that pounded windows, pavement and cars alike. The wind even whistled a bit as it passed, and shook the windows slightly.
"Ah, well... If you have time, I can see about drying that coat while we find what you're looking for...?" Harry didn't want to presume the man had time, but with such horrid weather and no specific title in mind, he was reluctant to let the man leave without at least first drying off.
"You... You wouldn't mind?"
"Of course not, I did offer after all. Besides that, if you have the time we could narrow down the rather extensive list of what it is that you're looking to enjoy." Harry smiled at him and held out his right hand, palm up. "So, this would be where you hand me the soggy jacket, I hang it up to dry in front of the fireplace, and get you a cup of tea to warm your sodden bones."
Steve laughed, and grinned at him, "Honestly, a cup of tea sounds delicious right about now." He used one hand to open the flat hiding the zipper at his throat, and the other to pull the metal tab downwards, opening the row of metallic teeth.
Apparently the windbreaker had not been made with torrential New York rain in mind.
The white shirt beneath the black coat was equally soaked and clung to every dip and curve of the man's chest as it was revealed. Steve more or less peeled the black piece of fabric off his shoulders and arms, having to bring his arms together, still clad in the cloth up to his elbows, to tug one side past a thickly muscled bicep.
Harry nearly had a nose-bleed as his customer's pectorals came together.
Soon enough after the coat was dislodged from Steve's person, and placed into Harry's waiting hand, which dipped under the sudden and unexpected weight.
"Sweet Merlin - !" Harry coughed in an attempt to cover his swear. "How long were you out there? This thing weighs a ton!"
Steve chuckled, a deep sound, and grinned sheepishly at the shorter man.
"Longer than I'm willing to admit. I don't mind the rain so much, and I didn't have far to go when the rain began." He shivered slightly as another gale of wind wailed through the door frame.
Harry gave him a chiding look, "You, good sir, are completely soaked. And while I don't ever ask such things from my customers, I demand you give me that shirt as well to dry." Harry looked away, eyes closed and nose lifted up. "You will no doubt catch cold as you are now!"
He missed the tiny smile and bright flush that his words elicited from Steve.
Looking in from the street, there was a large cobblestone fireplace to the right of the door and against one wall. Harry pulled out a clothes horse from the corner and set up the blonde's coat on the rack. Without looking back, Harry walked quickly behind the counter and towards the back of the shop.
"I'll be right back with a sweater for you!" He nearly ran once he was out of sight, biting his lower lip and flushed a bright cherry red.
He was honestly not enjoying the Harlequin cliché that this day had become!
Steve stood at the door to the shop with his sodden shirt in one hand, face flushed. He had never been a fan of being without clothing, even after taking the Doctor's serum. He wasn't comfortable being unclothed, and especially in such an awkward situation. Harry, for only have just met him, was going out of his way to not only help Steve find the literature he had been craving for months, but to get him warm and dry. So while he would much rather be back in his shirt and coat, he appreciated the man's gesture.
The sudden and rather embarrassing gesture.
As Steve hung his shirt to dry beside the coat, enjoying the warmth of the flames, he belatedly wondered if the petite man could possibly own anything that would fit his large frame.
Harry ducked into his flat above the store and through the door into his bedroom where he began tearing through his closet. He knew that somewhere, he had a sweater large enough to fit the man in the shop. Most of his sweaters were oversized on his frame, but would likely be too tight a fit for Steve. He owned a few that had been gifts and much too large, even for his tastes. But instead of getting rid of them, even years later, Harry had held onto the pieces.
With a triumphant cry of "Ahah!" muffled by the multitude of brightly coloured sweaters, Harry's hand shot up, clenching within it a sky blue sweater.
Not wanting to leave the man standing any more awkwardly, he practically flew from the room and down the stairs, skidding to a stop and very nearly colliding with Steve.
The blonde stared down at his flushed face with wide, surprised eyes.
"Err, well, here you are!" Harry thrust the sweater into the other's hands and stepped back and away, turning swiftly to face the other direction. He busied himself with making a pot of tea as Steve pulled the soft garment on, already warmed bodily by the fire. "Would you like any milk or sugar in your tea?"
"Hmm? Oh, yes, a bit of both please." Came the soft reply, followed by the scuff of sneakers on the wood flooring.
Harry made quick work of the tea, preparing a cup for Steve in the same fashion that he took his own. He turned back to Steve, hands grasping thick coffee mugs, and nearly tripped over his own feet.
Sweet Merlin, I really need to get laid...
For anyone wondering, I have posted links to the fan art for this story, along with an explanation, in my profile.
This chapter, for anyone who is curious, was completed within an hour of it's start (I think that may be a new record for me). It's slightly longer than the last, and again, un-beta'd.
Feel free to send in reviews concerning critiques and suggestions. I realize that this chapter is going a little faster than I had intended, but it won't be as transparent as most in this position, nor as predictable.
Should anyone wish to make fan-art of any kind, I would be more than happy to see it!
Thanks! Sal.