Grace woke up to utter confusion given that she couldn't remember falling asleep or getting to bed. Someone was knocking on her door gently, so she had to put her befuddlement aside for a moment. She dragged herself from her warm bed, stripped and changed into shorts and a lose t- shirt, went through the living room to the front door. Then with a great deal of effort she managed to heave the old door open, setting her shoulder alight with pain. Without the buffer of pain killers, it stung like a bitch. She hissed and grabbed the wound, visitor completely forgotten until his hand took hold of her elbow to steady her. Upon contact her eyes flew up and drank in the sight of Captain America's concerned face.
"Morning", she said when she had recovered enough to let go and speak. He reluctantly released her arm and returned the greeting. She turned and made her way to the kitchen, leaving the door open in silent invitation. Steve quietly followed her, closing the door and removing his jacket on the way. As he stepped into the mismatched kitchen he caught sight of her flailing as she tried to reach a mug on a high shelf. (He noticed with some satisfaction that his narwhal mug was already out on the counter). He reached over the top of her brunette head and retrieved the mug with ease, pausing to inspect her choice; a massive white bowl shaped mug, covered in what looked to him like a soft purple water colour paint. It was inexplicably pretty, and perfect for her. Of course he was blushing as he set it down on the counter next to his own.
He chuckled as he watched Grace recreate the process of producing good coffee, taking the time to stencil onto the foam another design; a pretty six pointed star. "Thanks" he said , and it struck her that she'd never heard that single syllable uttered so genuinely. She must make better coffee than she thought. An ugly, nasal sound filled the silent room, and both the soldier and the barista turned to see Irish snoring on his back in the corner, absently pawing the air. "I bet he's dreaming of food" she said, watching his curly tail wag slowly side to side.
Without thinking Steve said "Well if you cook half as well as you make coffee I'm sure you'd have me dreaming of food too". For how often it was there, he thought the blush should just never leave his face, but he did notice she lit up a pretty pink as well. She snorted and laughed, righting herself before explaining that she could bake like a pro (she single handedly stocks the coffee shop with pastries), but at savory cooking she was a bust. Steve watched as her face darkened at the mention of the coffee shop downstairs, but didn't have time to comfort her before something new crossed onto her features. She jumped up- wincing a little as she jarred her shoulder. however she didn't pause in her efforts, and his blue eyes followed her as she opened a cupboard to reveal a fridge. (The all American man made a note to figure out how that worked later).
Seconds later she was back with a plate of clingfilm wrapped cookies. After tearing through the plastic she proudly offered him a golden circle, speckled chunks of amethyst. Of course after tasting the woman's coffee he didn't hesitate in picking one up. About the size of his palm, it smelled of good old fashioned cookie, mixed with whatever the chunks were... toffee? And there was something else... His eyes silently asked her what it was, but all Grace gave him in answer was a shrug; she would give away no secrets until he had tried it. And so he did. His mind, suffice to say, was blown. Flavours were flying at him from every direction- spiciness, sweetness, saltiness. He couldn't even begin to describe how right the texture was- it wasn't solid, but it wasn't gooey, it was firm and chewey. It was also the best cookie he'd ever had.
He didn't notice his eyes close in bliss, but when he opened them Grace was sat before him looking kind of nervous.
"Before you say anything" She began, cutting off Steve's compliment, "You're the first person ever to try these. It's a new recipe. I mean I-I think they're, you know, pretty good. But I need you to be 100% honest in your opinion of them, because if they're crap I can't serve them to customers! So... is there anything wrong with them?", she finished, biting at her pinky nail in anticipation.
"Well yeah" Steve answered seriously, watching her face fall. "There aren't enough of them!"
Her face lit up in relief and happiness, and she found herself joining him in cookie gorging. She finally divulged that they were her twist on the newly popular salted caramel flavor. The spice came from a ginger/cinnamon mix she added to compliment the sweetness and add depth to the saltiness. In all honesty, Steve didn't really know what that meant, but he was damn sure he needed more of those cookies.
After the last delectable biscuit had been demolished and they'd drained their coffee down to the dregs, they both sat back on the couch- completely at ease with each other despite only having met a few days ago. At some point an old radio had been put on, and the windows opened, so that the quiet music floated on the New York breeze.
Both the soldier and the barista were quite content to sit in the quiet air and sip more coffee for a while and forget everything that had happened. Eventually Steve turned to his host to ask about her extensive book collection, but before he could his eyes caught sight of her bandages slipping out from under the sleeve of the loose t-shirt she wore. She followed his gaze and immediately hiked the baggy bandages back up her shoulder, then grimaced at the pain she had caused herself. Of course almost immediately the bandages fell right back down. Growing exasperated with the situation she violently jerked them up to her shoulder and actually yelped at the fire that consumed the area.
Before she could do it again and seriously injure herself Steve grabbed hold of her wrist. Se struggled for a second before she sat back, deflated. Seeing that she wasn't going to try again he hesitantly released her wrist, fingers missing the contact as soon as they parted from her skin. A blush stained his cheeks as he spoke: "Do you... Well do you need h-help with re-dressing the uh, the wound?" he asked, eyes practically nailed to the coffee table.
She couldn't help but chuckle quietly, a hand ghosting over her mouth as if to muffle the pretty sound. She had been instructed by a nurse before she left to change the bandages daily but she just hadn't gotten round to it yet. Now that she really thought about it it did seem a difficult task to accomplish alone.
"Really?" she asked, wrinkling her nose. She hadn't known Steve long, and she had no intentions of letting him do everything for her. She didn't want him to feel like he had to do anything. She was just beginning to shake her head no when he said with a bit more resolution- "Really".
Looking up and seeing the sincerity in his eyes muted any doubt or agitation she had on the matter. It just didn't seem possible to say no to such a genuine desire to help. And so she found herself nodding, apparently struck dumb at the concept of Steve bandaging her wounds.
Without another word he stood and offered her his hand. He lead them to the bathroom, stopping briefly to pick up a stool from the kitchen and instructed her to sit facing away from him. Grace did as she was told, a knot forming in her stomach at the thought of what was to happen next. She would need to take her shirt off for him to be able to bandage it right.
Both of them were absolutely crimson as she deftly removed her head and her right arm from the fabric, electing to leave her left arm in it and draping it over her boobs. Steve took the initiative at this point and sought out the supplies he'd need from the medicine cabinet behind him. When that was done, he cleared his throat: "I...I'm just going to start taking the dressing off now". It was sweet how nervous he was, and she wasn't much better off. With deft fingers he undid the bindings, and because they were already loose the bandages fell away quickly. There was a layer of gauze underneath, taped into place so that it wouldn't slip.
After pealing that back there was a smaller square of gauze covering the individual bullet wound. spreading out from behind the white was an impressive bruise, purple at its edges and growing darker towards the wound. It looked brutal, and Steve was as gentle as he could be when he was removing the last layer. What he saw next made his eyes widen and his heart skip a beat. He had of course seen many bullet wounds in his day, but he has never seen one with a ring of luminous blue around it. If it hadn't have been for the brightness and intensity of the colour it could just have been bruising. But he recognized it as the same blue that had powered the Chitauri's weapons, the same blue that had caused untold destruction wherever it was seen. It was Tesseract blue.
A million thoughts raced through his mind- did it come from the bullets? Was it hurting her? Would it stop the wounds from healing? He was silent as he appraised the hole in her skin. After a few minutes where she couldn't feel him doing anything, Grace looked back at him. "Sorry is this too... weird?". Immediately Steve snapped out of his panic induced haze and looked at her. Doubt had flooded her pretty eyes, and she clearly felt bad for asking him to do this. He smiled, electing to find out more later- and said "I'll have you know ma'am I have cleaned out plenty of bullet wounds in my time and have no issue doing so just now". And with that he went about dressing and bandaging all the various injuries. The bruising was worse on the front so he was extremely careful, both in how he handled her and where he looked. She had a tshirt covering her but he was still a man after all.
Eventually he had it all wrapped up perfectly. He was clearly a man who took pride in his work, if the pristine appearance of the bandages were anything to go by. Her shoulder felt supported and a little more comfortable than it had before and she was grateful for that. She told him as much while he was politely looking away and she was putting her shirt back on. They made their way back to the living room as Grace told Steve more about Dove and Elizabeth. She had a phone call from them before she left the hospital. Dove had taken Elizabeth to stay with him at his family's farm in Idaho for the moment until they were sure it was safe to come back.
Normally Grace would have been mad that her only two employees had abandoned her but she had been waiting for those two to get together from the day she had introduced them. Maybe now it would finally happen. Steve smiled at her rambling about why they were perfect for each other, and he wished he had friends like that. Glancing at the clock, Grace turned to him and informed him that it was 12.00 O'clock and so she had to kick him out. Steve was taken aback for a second before he stood and started to collect himself to leave, not wanting to be an inconvenience.
"I promised myself I would get the store cleaned out today ready for repair men tomorrow, so we can be open for Monday!" She said, gesturing to the tool box sat next to her front door. That caught his attention.