Author: Salios

Date: December 12, 2012

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 3

Harry very nearly spilled piping hot tea on his toes as he spotted Steve.

The man, because he was very much a man in the physical sense, was adorable. He seemed very shy of his own muscular form, as though it was something new and awe inspiring to him. It gave harry the impression of someone who had been surprised with power.

Steve stood with his hands at his sides, the sweater stretched across his shoulders tightly. The zipper was only half zipped, baring a few inches of pale, creamy skin, unmarked by time or war. One of the thick, white shoelace strings from the hood was tucked into the open portion of the sweater. He very much wanted to step in close and gently remove it; of course this would give him prime seating to inspect that enticing peek of flesh, and maybe get a whiff of the man's scent. Hey, everyone had their kinks, and he had always appreciated a man who smelled well.

Harry smiled and stepped forward, passing the warming mug to the shy blonde. He took it with a gentle smile and soft hands. He cradled the lightly steaming mug between long fingers and broad palms. Harry found a flush beginning to cross his cheeks and coughed, turning on the ball of his foot. He was doing that a lot today: the turning and the blushing.

Oh, and he had a thing for broad hands too, damn.

"Was there a period or topic in particular you were interested in? It could really narrow down the search." He laughed a little, forcing back his flush. He made the few steps away from the foyer where Steve stood to the counter. He slipped behind it and hopped up onto his stool, bringing him to eye level with the tall, fit blonde.

Steve padded after him across the aged wooden floor and stood across from harry on the other side of the counter.

"Well, I'm interested in... uh..." He looked a bit uncomfortable.

Harry only watched him, waiting patiently.

"Well, warfare." He scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

Harry blinked. "Oh! No reason to be embarrassed about that; our species has been fighting amongst ourselves for millennia, and at this rate I doubt that it'll stop any time soon. Best we can do, those of us preferring not to engage in war ourselves, is to learn what we can. War has shaped every country and people, for the good or the bad."

Steve looked a bit surprised, but said nothing.

"Any war in particular? Any topic? Tactics maybe?" The lithe brunette pulled open several drawers from his side of the desk, seemingly at random. Not once did he break contact with Steve's vibrant blue eyes.

"I'm not picky really, though I'd rather something from this century."

"Modern warfare – " Harry cut off at the cringe on Steve's face. Ah, a sore spot, best leave that topic for a later date. "Alright then, past it is." He slid closed several drawers, again, seemingly at random. "Anything else?"

"Firsthand accounts."

"Narrows it down."

"Honest."

"Narrows it down."

"In English."

"Narrows it down."

"North American?"

"Narrows it down."

"Younger author?"

"Narrows it down."

At each suggestion Harry had closed or pulled open another drawer. And each time he had kept his eyes in contact with Steve's.

"Ah... I think I'm out of ideas actually..." During the short but intense brain storm, he had come to be hunched over the counter, his forearms braced on the countertop on either side of the mug cradled before him. He wasn't very far from Harry either, maybe a half foot, slightly more.

Harry seemed to ponder for a moment, nibbling on his lower lip absently. "Well, I think I might have one in mind, off the top of my head; I read it quite some time ago but it left quite the impression. He slipped off his stool. "Right then, feel free to browse while I locate the little bugger; like I said, it's been a while and though I know I have a copy, I can't remember exactly where I've stashed it." He stood for a moment, before the tall stacks of books that covered more than half the width of the sizeable store, and the length of the thirty odd foot length. The ceilings were also abnormally high for a book store, which led Steve to consider that this may have been an art studio at some previous point. The ceiling must have been nearly fifteen feet in height, and the book cases stretched nearly the entire length. And, as he looked around, he noted that there wasn't a ladder of any kind in sight. Harry stood in the same place for high on ten minutes, nibbling his lip and tapping his foot and fingers against his hip in a matching rhythm.

Eventually Steve came back to the counter top and resumed his hunched position, finding that he could stretch his back pleasurably from that position. His long fingers, artist's fingers, absently stroked patterns along the mug's warm surface. The soft, warm fabric of the borrowed sweater strained against the points of his broad shoulders, obviously not having been intended for the strain of such a muscular body. The hem slid of slightly in the back as he stretched and exposed a few inches of skin. His eyes, bright and blue, followed the brunette for a while as he stalked up and down the aisles, mumbling to himself. Once or twice he disappeared down towards the back of the shop in his search for the elusive novel, but eventually returned, still mumbling and twitching his fingers. Steve was content to wait; his time in the military, both while as a figurehead wanting to be more, and more recently as a soldier waiting for an order, had taught him that patience was key in most things: good things came to those who waited. Between Stark and Banner, he had learned what the twitching fingers, restless legs, pacing feet, and incessant mumbling meant, and knew better than to offer help, lest he caused something to somehow explode. It had happened... Once... While there were no dubious electronics or bubbling chemicals, he wasn't one to abandon a time tested method for survival. That's what he told himself as his eyes shifted to watch the movement of Harry's lips or behind. Just being observant, that's all.

And so, the big man watched the little man.

Time passed and neither noticed the storm that had once raged outside having calmed considerably as the day had faded into early evening. Steve's tea had been finished and another pot made; the blonde had learned some skills while overseas during the war. Until Harry had made that first pot, he hadn't enjoyed a good in nearly seventy five years, before his mishap in the arctic. Now that he had the chance to think about it, he realized just how much he had anticipated the warm drink as Harry had made it.

"Ahah!" And there went a perfectly good cup of warm tea, all over the index card Harry had slammed down onto the countertop. He fumbled for a grip on the still warm ceramic for a moment, nearly smashing it twice, before he got a hold on it. He smiled sheepishly at Harry's grin. Harry was very lucky Steve had not lashed out during his violent start; the fumble for the mug had likely saved him a cracked skull or bruised cheek. Steve's grimace and sour mood at being surprised faded against the brightness of Harry's smile, his eyes were dancing in mirth. Literally.

Steve's blue eyes shifted upwards from the brunette's plump mouth, passing a small, pert nose dusted with faint freckles, to his wide, almond shaped eyes. Where he paused. Right away, staring into them, he could tell there was something more to Harry. Something... More than human... Harry's eyes were green, very green; so green that they were literally a kaleidoscope of colour that shifted back and forth between varying shades of green. Flecks of blue and gold flickered before being swallowed by the shifting swirls. A few times he saw flecks of red, some the colour of dried blood, others a vibrant crimson, that peeked out from around his pupil before they too were swallowed. The shades shifted from an almost neon green to a deep pine, and nearly black.

Steve's appraisal was halted as the corners of Harry's eyes crinkled and his lids lowered. The blonde sat back, only now noticing how very close he had become to the brunette. Harry's face had been scant inches away from his own. Instead of anger or some kind of smarmy comment, Harry merely stood and smiled; waiting patiently. He waited until Steve had righted himself and the flush that had been creeping up the blonde's neck had vanished somewhat, before speaking.

"You're curious."

It wasn't a question.

"Y-yes." Steve scowled inwardly at the stuttered reply, why was he suddenly so nervous? He didn't like this; one moment he was unbelievably comfortable around a man he knew nothing about and was only in the company of on the word of an associate, and the next he was jittery like the first time he had been around a girl he liked. That parallel was quickly dismissed. For all his uncertainty and questions, Steve was having a hard time bringing himself to truly care. "Why... Why do they shift like that?" He paused, considering his next question. "Are you human?" He bit his lip as soon as the words passed his mouth.

'Good job, idiot. Insult the man who's treated you better in the first hour of meeting you than most people have during your entire life.'

He prayed to God that he hadn't some irreparable damage.