The next day, Steve awoke to pounding rain beating down on a half demolished city, and flashes of lightning illuminating the dark sky. He rolled his eyes and crawled straight out of bed to the coffee machine that Stark had given him as a house warming gift when he'd found this little apartment in Manhattan. It had become a habit he wasn't going to break any time soon. Normally he would wake up, caffinate, then go for a run. Then he'd either have work to do with S.H.E.I.L.D or he'd have a city to see. But as Steve sipped his dark coffee and looked out the window, he decided today was not a day for going on a run or for walking round the city. Uh uh. He did however have a certain girl to go and see. A smile lit up his sleepy face at the thought, a dusky blush coloring his cheeks. He let his mind drift to what they might talk to today, he thought he might tell her more about the Howling Commandos, Bucky and Peggy. Steve couldn't really talk to anyone about Peggy because everyone knew about her and her legacy, and assumed that he must be utterly heartbroken over her.
Steve would always, always love Peggy. How could he not? She was his spitfire, she saw him when he was still just Steve, when no one thought he could be a soldier let alone Captain America. But what people sometimes forgot is that he and Peggy never actually happened. For all the time he knew her, Peggy was one of his best friends- second only to Bucky. They played this game almost... they flirted and fell in love, but both of them left it too late. When Steve was hurling a Hydra Bomber plane into a field of ice, his last thought was something along the lines of how he never did get to dance with her. And now that felt like a million miles away, hundreds of years ago. Another life. In some ways it was. He had missed his shot with Peggy, and she would always be his first love and the one who got away, but he knew she would kill him if she thought he was holding back in this new life because of her. So he was open to a new relationship- to happiness, because he owed her that. He owed himself that at least, after losing everything.
He was still smiling as he finished his cup and went to shower, thoughts of Peggy and Grace dancing around his mind. 20 minutes later he was clean and changed (a white t-shirt, his tan trousers and brown boots, topped of with his brown leather jacket), when it occurred to him that he probably shouldn't take his motorbike on a day like this. So the super soldier hesitantly dipped his hand into the bowl by his door and retrieved his car keys. He was never a fan of cars, not when his bike gave him so much freedom, but he did have one in the garage downstairs, yet another gift from Stark. It wasn't really Steve's style- it was big and luxurious looking, sleek black paint polished to perfection. But it would have to do.
And so off he set on his way to the hospital. Thunder shook his windows and lightning ripped up the sky the whole way there, and Steve briefly wondered if Thor was on Earth and in a bad mood. As ridiculous as it sounded, it was actually a common occurrence. He chuckled as he parked, then took a deep breath as he leapt from his seat, slammed the door and sprinted to the door way, trying not to get soaked but not really succeeding. Apparently it was entertaining to see though, if the giggling woman standing by the door, smoking under an umbrella was anything to go by. Steve gave a sheepish smile and ducked inside, thankful to be out of the down pour. He briefly looked over his shoulder at the woman as she stubbed out her cigarette, but whipped his head around when he collided with someone. Grace let loose more than one four letter word as she tried to keep her balance, until Steve's hands were on her shoulders, steadying her.
"Grace?" she heard, and for the first time she looked up to see it was Steve Rogers she had walked into while she was texting Elizabeth. "Steve" She breathed in surprise, her dark mood and aching shoulder suddenly forgotten. She had quite forgotten that Captain America had booked a visit today. She flushed scarlet and tried to cover her chest with crossed arms- she was wearing the only clothes she had with her, which were the clothes she got shot in. A flimsy blue t-shirt and jeans, neon orange flip flops and thankfully a navy blue hoodie that she had had around her waist, so it didn't have blood on it. It was however very hard to ignore the blood and bullet holes that still marred her t shirt. If she was reading Steve's face correctly then he had already seen. "What are you doing out of bed?" he asked urgently, snapping her from her thoughts. "I just discharged myself" She stated plainly, "I'm going home". She shrugged Steve's big hands off her shoulders and took a step towards the door, but was stopped by the fallen hand finding purchase on her elbow.
"That's crazy! You got shot, twice, and had major surgery the day before yesterday!" Steve couldn't believe the little woman in front of him. She narrowed her pretty eyes at him and pressed her lips into a line, then pulled an unexpected move on him; she ripped her arm from his grasp and grabbed his wrist, then proceeded to drag him outside into the heaving rain. She smiled as the shock of very cold water changed Steve's facial expression comically. "The bed I was taking up can be put to good use now, they can give it to someone who actually needs it! Put that together with the fact that my dad works at this hospital and we are not 'simpatico' at the moment" She inwardly laughed at quoting tangled- "I was not going to hang around. I need to get back to the shop and the apartment, Elizabeth said she left my dog with Mrs. Fitzgerald and she's old so I've got to-" Steve held up a soggy hand and silenced the rambling. "Okay, okay I get it. Having met your dad I can see where you're coming from with that" He said loudly, striving to be heard over the rain, "but that bed was being put to plenty good use with you in it. So if you insist on leaving you're going to need someone to look after you, and you're going to need to let me drive you" He finished. At this point the rain was so heavy that both of them were soaked through, and blinking water out of their eyes. Grace thought hard for a moment before shouting over the crack of thunder and the pelting of rain "Deal- but you need to buy me coffee first. I couldn't choke down the dirt water they got in there".
Twenty minutes later they were both sat with mugs of what Grace referred to as 'honest coffee' in a diner Steve had never heard of, but where everyone knew who Grace atmosphere was warm and cheerful, until a group of burly fire fighters came in. Then the atmosphere was loud and filled with laughter as they each in turn came and gave Grace a hug. One even picked her up in a bear hug and swung her round until she managed to get out that she'd been shot and that this was a no-no. Steve had sat quietly outside of the festivities drinking his coffee and watching, not wanting to intrude. So he was surprised when he heard Grace shout his name loudly, then dragged him right into the middle of it. He was introduced to each and every person by name, and got smiles, slaps on the back, handshakes and even a few bear hugs of his own. He didn't really know what to make of it before Grace began to tell him stories of the brave firefighters of New York, and how they'd been coming here for good coffee for years. They stayed and chatted for half an hour before Grace finally proclaimed that she was caffeinated enough to go home now. The owner of the diner pressed two paper bag into her hands before she left; "some pastries for you and your boy, on the house" he said with a crinkly smile, "don't be a stranger".
Steve was already resigned to the fact that he would have to come back to that diner, with good coffee and food and people. Grace had told him that when she couldn't have her own coffee, or when she felt like she wanted a taste of home- Sally's was where she went. 'Sally' himself had been more of a dad to her than her father was, that was for sure. She told Steve all this on the ride their and on the way to her shop- how Sally had taught her everything she knew about coffee and business, and inspired her to get a degree and open her own shop. She told him how coffee was her theory of everything, how it would re-build New York. Steve told her about the first cup of coffee he ever had, and laughed when she wrinkled her nose at the word 'instant'. He told her about the cold watery coffee they had at the training camp after he became a soldier and the richer stuff they had at Stark Tower and the coffee machine he had at his apartment. Her eyes lit up when he told her that he really hadn't had a chance to figure out what all the nozzles and buttons were for, and she promised him a lesson in good home brewing.
Before they knew it, Steve had pulled up in front of 'Grace's home comforts', and the atmosphere between them sobered as they took in the broken shop front. They stepped out of the car quietly, and Grace unlocked the door and shoved it open, despite the gaping hole she could have gone through. On the whole, the damage could have been much, much worse. Aside from the smashed window, there were a few broken tables from where that alien had landed, and broken cups and plates from where customers had gotten up and ran. Both she and Steve raised an eyebrow and smiled ruefully at the Chituari spear still lodged in the wall. Grace made her way behind the counter and flipped the lights on, illuminating the half busted shop. What she saw next brought tears to her eyes, harsh and stinging. She had bought the cash register for her beloved shop in an old vintage market for $100.00. It had been well looked after and maintained since it's creation in the 40's, and the only reason she got it so cheap was that the man who sold it to her got free coffee for as long as he lived. She smiled through her tears as she remembered the lovely man who still came in for his plain black brew. Now her boot, her cash register lay bashed open, all her cash gone. She had heard that some sick people out there had used the invasion as an opportunity to loot and steal, but she didn't think for a second that it would happen to her. She pinched the bridge of her nose hard, hoping to stop the tears, but a few stubborn droplets still found their way through. She felt a large, warm hand settle on her shoulder, and Steve's voice just behind her; "oh Grace, I'm so sorry". It was quiet and sad, but also exactly the comfort she needed just then. She sniffed and turned around all set to tell him she was fine, that it would be okay, but didn't get a chance because Steve's arms were around her in a hug. He tucked her head under his chin and held her while she let a few more rebellious tears fly away from her eyes. She thought he smelled a bit like soap, and fresh sheets, while he could smell coffee and muffins from her hair.
Eventually they parted, both blushing like teenagers. Grace smiled and thanked him for being here, and he just blushed worse. "My apartment's upstairs, if you'd like to come up. I can make you real coffee then" She said, eyes daring him to turn her down. He only chuckled and nodded, silently telling her to lead the way. They walked up a narrow set of stairs at the back of the shops, their foot fall echoing against old stone walls all the way to the top. Grace fished for her keys in her jeans and let them in, having to shove against the door heavily. "It''s old, it sticks a lot" She replied to his questioning look. He didn't know what he expected to find in her apartment, but it wasn't this. Upon entering he was hit with the smell of candles and old books, with undertones of (you guessed it) coffee. The door opened directly into the living room, where there was no TV which Steve found refreshing. It was instead lined with shelves, filled with books and ornaments and a few potted plants. There was a huge three seater couch to one side, the big squishy comfy kind, and two old and worn green leather chairs to the other. Between them was an ornate looking coffee table littered with magazines and mugs. Steve's blue eyes drank in every detail of the room, and he loved it. It was messy, but in that organized way he never seemed to be able to achieve, and the books... being a sickly child, sometimes books were all Steve had- the characters his friends and teachers. He loved to read.
"Sorry it's a little messy" She said, fussing over the coffee table. "It's perfect" He said without thinking. Both of them blushed, and she muttered a quiet 'thank you', leading the way to the adjoining kitchen. She explained on the way that Elizabeth had decorated her kitchen, and it might take a little getting used to. It was the understatement of the century. Upon coming through the doorway, the soldier was met with glaring whites, blacks and reds, everywhere. The floor was black and white tiled with a furry red round rug thrown on top, records were stapled to one wall, on another Polaroids and pictures of what Steve assumed was Grace's whole life were plastered everywhere. He stared at it for a moment before moving on, to the huge green oven and the spotless and high tech looking coffee maker on the white marble counter. Nothing matched and it looked awful. But at the same time, it looked very homey. There were about 4 million different mugs hanging on hooks and sitting on shelves, each one different and with it's own story. There was a dog's bed in the corner, with a very used looking Iron Man chew toy on it. That made him smile.
"Pick your cup" She said from somewhere inside a cupboard, evidently trying to find something. He looked around, his eyes gliding over the different sizes, shapes and colours until one caught his attention. It was short, round and fat, pale blue with little cartoon Narwhals on it. He lifted it off the shelf and decided it was as weird as he is, so he may as well choose that one. "Good choice" He heard just from his right. He looked round to see that she had retrieved a huge bag of coffee beans. "Smell this" She said, shoving the bag under his nose. Frankly he was too scared to say no, so he followed his orders. Rich and smoky were the first words that came to mind, and he told her so. She smiled before spending the next ten minutes showing how to grind coffee, then make it into a drink 'worth drinking' in her words. She was like a mad scientist, pouring and heating and steaming and filtering until two cups of coffee with just the right amount of foam on top were presented. He tried to reach for it, but earned a small slap on the hand and a "wait wait wait" before she dove into another cupboard. She pulled out a stencil and a cup of something and before fiddling with the mugs. When it was returned to him, the New York city skyline in coco powder stared up at him, and he smiled. "You're a talented woman" he said, gesturing to her cup. "Taste it and you'll find out the extent of that talent" She replied winking. Somehow he didn't doubt it.
"I'm gonna take a quick trip next door and get my dog back from Mrs. Fitzgerald, she'll go crazy if she has him much longer" she said standing up. "Take your coffee through the living room and make yourself at home if you like" He heard as she disappeared around the corner. He chuckled and picked up his cup, excited to meet the dog that chews on Tony Stark's head. One long sip later, Steven Grant Rogers learned the difference between the coffee that came out of the jar in his cupboard and real coffee. He doubted he would ever go back as he made his way through to her living room and the comfy looking couch. Seconds later the door opened and slammed shut, the sound of footsteps and paws drawing his attention to the door. What he assumed was the dog ran through to another room before he could see it, and Grace flopped on the couch next to him. "Is it a boy or a girl?" He asked curiously, sitting a little straighter and taking another sip or his drink. "Boy. Ferocious beast and very protective of me" she answered, eyes slipping closed. Paws could be heard again, and soon the dog appeared. His fur was the colour of ink, as were his eyes. He had sharp claws, and a cool demenour. That was until he hopped up onto Steve's lap and rolled onto his back, begging for him to rub is little pug tummy.
The brutal Super Soldier immediately melted and started playing with the pug, eventually asking what his name was.
"Irish" Grace said sleepily.
"Irish?" He asked, the dog licking his face.
"He's the shot of Irish whiskey in my coffee, he makes it interesting".
Of course she would name him after a coffee shot. Five minutes later she had fallen asleep, and Steve had carried her to her bed. Irish was cuddled up by her feet, as he pulled the covers up to her shoulders. He had removed her hoodie and flip flops, and made her as comfortable as possible before giving her a brief kiss on the forehead and closing the door. He was thankful there was nobody to see the violent blush that marred his face as he finished his heavenly coffee.
Weeeee :) Much longer chapter for you today, hope you like that! There was kind of a two way tie for the dog's name because two reviewers (CrazyCountryGirl12 & WXCKEDisgood) suggested 'Coffee' or different types of coffee for the dog's name . Congrats to you both, here are your virtual cookies and hugs **** .
As always please review and let me know what you think, it is sooo important to me that you do! Thank you so much for reading, hope to see you again soon! xxxx