Author's Note:

Greetings Earthlings!

I come in peace. And with a gift, a new chapter! I'm super excited about this one! We finally get to meet the captain. Yay! *confetti*

In case anyone was wondering, no, I do not own Captain america or anything else you recognize.

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Thanks

Storybooksage

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The Captain casually drummed his fingers on the back of his book, he had never gotten to finish Treasure Island and he was taking advantage of the quiet hours of the morning to do just that.

A firm knock on the front door of his apartment drew him off of the ship and into the twenty first century. He pushed himself off of the leather recliner and pulled open the door, half expecting an assassin.

"Hello Captain." Nic Fury stood outside of his door a flat device in his hand. "I have a mission for you." Without waiting he invited himself in.

Steve, ever the gentleman, ignored Fury's lack of manners, "Please have a seat." He motioned to the chair he had just vacated.

"This isn't a social call." No one would ever accuse Fury of indulging in small talk, "One of my agents has been compromised. She has spent far too long in the field and has lost her grip on reality." Fury handed him the tablet, "She believes that she is on assignment to help bring you up to speed on modern life. I don't think you need help, you figured out Hydra Technology fairly quickly, a computer and espresso maker shouldn't be too difficult."

"Sir, I'm not sure if I'm the right person to bring her back to reality. I'm not sure myself what is and isn't real."

"Believe me Captain you are the most qualified person to bring her down to earth." Fury's phone chirped, "I have to be going. Read up on her history and your cover story. She'll be here in a few hours. In the meantime her belongings have just arrived and I need to leave." In the blink of an eye and a swish of his coat the Director was gone.

Steve stood staring at the door slightly shocked and confused. Some girl was going to be living here? He didn't get long to ponder this new development before the door opened and several men and women dressed as movers trapped through his living room and into his spare room. Only S.H.I.E.L.D. agents would be so brazen.

Knowing that trying to argue with them would be pointless, Steve resigned back to his chair and read through the spotty and poorly detailed file on his new room mate. Dropped out of high school and legally emancipated at sixteen, joined shield at seventeen and has been fighting organized crime ever since. Not much was said about her personally just a bunch of facts and statistics on her cases. She seemed to almost always pull off her missions. She usually spared 'innocents' what ever that meant.

The movers left almost as quickly and wordlessly as they arrived. Had he been lost in the world of Jim and Silver he would have missed their departure completely. As he was only reading the dry report he thankfully tore his eyes away from the screen and nodded at the last agent.

From his seat facing the front door he could see a few changes to his living room; pictures of frozen wastelands and sunny oasis, a potted plant, knickknacks on the mantle, and a soft suede chair facing him. Steve decided that an inspection of his home was necessary.

The bathroom had a new blue rug and shower curtain. A wire basket hung from the shower head holding an assortment of soaps and creams. A basket on the counter had just as many bottles and tubes and his medical cabinet had been overtaken by three different types of mouth wash, more creams, and a full first aid kit.

The kitchen was, thankfully, mostly undisturbed. A few new pots a pans, more plates and a vase of flowers were most obvious. The freezer had been loaded up with pizzas and vegetables and the fridge had an extra gallon of milk and more eggs.

Steve was not one to go snooping through a woman's drawers, but there was nothing wrong with a bit of curiosity, right? If she had changed this much of the common space what would her room look like? He nudged her door open and scanned the room. He expected to find regulation clothes, all black pant suits and polished heels. A sharp black or metal desk with a sturdy functional chair would not have been a surprise. And a cot with perfectly flat sheets and army tight corners was definitely within the range of acceptable for an agent.

What he didn't expect were soft neutral colored pants and shirts with a thousand bright colored accessories. An entire rack in the closet was dedicated to shirts with pictures on the fronts. The desk was metal, but the silver was embedded with gemstones and swirls of glitter. And her queen sized bed had enough pillows and throws to host a battalion sleepover. The maroon canopy and curtains fluttered in the soft autumn wind.

A sharp smell accosted his nose and he noticed that his once beige walls were light blue with bright red trim around the windows and doors. The agents had painted the walls of his apartment. He exhaled sharply. Well he could always repaint when she moved out.

However he was not going to deal with the smell of fresh paint (no matter how quickly it dried these days) any longer than he had to. He fetched the revolving fan from the kitchen and stuck it in the doorway of her room to blow the stench out the window.

He had just plugged it in and was pressing buttons trying to figure which one made it turn half circles when he heard a throat clear behind him. He spun around, his fist swinging out at the noise.

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Oh no! Who has snuck into his house? Will he hurt them?

I can't wait for next week!

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