Phil loved coffee. It was commonly known that if one of his agents wanted to butter him up, they brought him a double espresso from Maria's, a family run coffee shop just a few minute's walk down the road. If Phil were the poetic sort, he'd write sonnets about her coffee. As it was, he merely composed haikus in his mind when he was in meetings that really bored him. They had to be enhancing the coffee in some way; nothing natural could be so delicious. In an attempt to gain more information, Phil had even tried persuading Maria's daughter to tell him where she got her coffee beans from, but Maria had realised what he was up to and shooed him out the door.
Today, Phil needed a coffee from Maria's more than anything else in the world. Not even the thought of a blissful night's sleep was more appealing.
"Six weeks and we've got nothing? Nothing?"
Nick was pacing his office, glaring at the stationary as if it were to blame for the fact that Harry Potter had given them the slip once and for all.
"None of the intelligence agencies we cooperate with have any footage of him," Phil repeated. "Not MI6, the CIA, Mossad, the BND."
"Damn it all," Nick muttered. "Where the hell could he be?"
The beginning of a headache pulsed in Phil's temple. He stifled a yawn and didn't answer. It was the same question Nick had been asking in their weekly meetings and Phil had no answer other than the one he'd given. Not even Stark had managed to catch a glimpse of him, although who knew how reliable that information was.
Nick finally looked up and huffed. Phil straightened, but knew he'd been caught with a bored expression upon his face.
"Off you go, then," Nick said. "Get some rest, Phil. We'll leave our usual surveillance running, but I'm reassigning you. You'll have your orders in the morning.
"Yes, sir," Phil said, relieved and trying not to show it. Whether Harry was a biologically advanced alien or a 'wizard' as Clint liked to proclaim, Phil would prefer not to have to hunt him down when it seemed to be patently impossible.
He exited the building on automatic, making his way to Maria's. He was greeted by the lady herself, who clucked over him and ushered him into a chair.
Maria was a woman who mother-henned even the most fearsome of agents. She had a perpetual dusting of flour upon her apron and a smile upon her face. She'd immigrated from Italy thirty years ago to marry her Brooklyn born husband, and as far as Phil knew, had never looked back.
"They've been running you ragged," Maria said with a knowing gleam to her eye.
Phil smiled wryly. "Double espresso," he began, and Maria cackled.
"I know what you want, caro." She patted him on the head and bustled away. She returned within moments, the double espresso he craved in one hand, and a fresh pastry in the other.
"Cannoli with cream and raspberries."
The raspberries were plump and pink and the cream was fresh and cool on his tongue. Phil couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten dessert. He felt spoiled. The coffee was heavenly, of course. Phil leaned back and shut his eyes, just for a moment.
"Best coffee in New York," someone advised him. Phil jerked up, caught unaware.
Harry slipped into the seat before him.
"You must be kidding me," Phil said. His day had gone from bad to worse to awful.
"I'm quite serious," Harry replied. His eyes were twinkling. Phil hadn't thought it was actually possible for eyes to twinkle, but there was no other way to describe it. They were green, like emeralds, glimmering in the sun.
It was quite possible that Phil was having some manner of sleep-deprived hallucination.
"Not a hallucination," Harry said, sounding amused.
Phil groped for his coffee and downed it in one. He gestured for a refill. Maria grinned as she headed their way, another plate of pastries in hand.
"A friend?" Maria said. "Well colour me surprised."
"You're not the only one," Phil said. "Harry, meet Maria. Maria… this man is trouble."
"The worst kind," Harry agreed. "Really, you shouldn't even be serving me."
"I'll be the judge of that," Maria said. "Now eat up. So skinny!" She tutted. "You need some meat on those bones."
Harry smiled and popped a cannoli in his mouth.
"They're delicious," he said. "Thank you. And I'll have whatever my friend here is having, too."
"After this, decaf," Maria warned him when Phil ordered another double espresso. Phil grimaced, but she wagged a finger at him. "No complaints."
"Not a word," Phil warned Harry, once Maria was gone.
"She seems lovely," Harry said, sounding wistful. "Reminds me of my friend's mum, actually."
"Care to tell me more about her?" Phil leaned back against the leather padding of the booth and crossed his hands in his lap.
"She was always trying to feed me up. I was a shy, scrawny child, but she hardly cared as long as I was getting enough vitamins and staying out of trouble."
While Harry ate another pastry, Phil slid one hand into his pocket and hit speed dial one on his phone—Nick's direct line. Maria bustled back over with their drinks and another plate of cannoli.
"Thank you, these are truly wonderful," Harry praised. "Signora, you are the woman I have been looking for all my life. I cannot in good conscience ignore someone as talented a baker as you. Please, accept my proposal. We shall get married on the beaches of Sicily and holiday in the tropics of the Carribean."
"Oh, you flatterer, you!" Maria twittered. Her cheeks had pinked. Phil bit back a smile of amusement and instead frowned at Harry.
"Don't go attempting to seduce the woman who makes the best coffee in New York, Harry, or I might actually have to bring you in," Phil said.
"Now, none of that nonsense," Maria warned them, waving a tea towel in their direction. "I must get back to my other, less demanding customers."
"What is that you want? Money, power?" Harry called. Given Harry's skills, neither was beyond his grasp. Phil tried not to imagine how formidable Harry would be with Maria at his side. In another world, they'd make an excellent team.
Maria waved him off with a fond smile. "I have already given my hand to another, I'm afraid."
Phil watched with amusement as Harry feigned agony.
"My poor heart," he joked. "I suppose I will settle for eating these divine cannoli instead." Maria snorted and hurried away.
"Quite the charmer, aren't you?"
Harry smirked at him, licking a wisp of cream from his lip.
"Well, my Charms Professor did inform me that I had a talent for it, much like my mother."
Phil blinked. In one sentence, Harry had teased them more information about his past than he'd ever done before. He held back the urge to interrogate Harry. If he chased him off now, Harry might never return. He only had to wait for back up; Nick was likely tracing his call this very minute.
"Charms… what exactly does that entail, then?"
Harry looked up, startled, as if he hadn't realised he'd given anything away. Then his mouth twisted into a rueful smile.
"Well, in my first year of schooling, I was taught the Levitation Charm and in my seventh I mastered the Undetectable Extension Charm. Your scientists will have seen first hand what a collapsed version of that looks like when they took apart my van."
"I saw it with my very eyes," Phil confirmed. He sipped his coffee and hoped Maria would forgive him when the agents that Nick had likely sent came bursting in through the windows. "You're being unusually forthcoming."
Harry shrugged. "I'm in a giving mood. I've evaded your agency, made a friend, and found the best cup of coffee in New York. Tonight I'm going to teach my neighbour how to cook a roast dinner and introduce him to the joys of Star Wars. Life is good."
Phil tried not to feel too guilty at having called Harry in. It was still standard procedure, despite how much he'd railed to Nick against it.
"These really are delicious," Harry said. He shook the cutlery free of the napkin on the table and used it to wrap up four cannoli. The red napkin disappeared into his pocket, then Harry stood. "It was nice chatting with you, Phil."
"Going already, Harry?" Really, he shouldn't have expected anything less.
"I suspect it's going to get rather busy in here," Harry said, grinning all the while. "Cheerio, pip pip, and all that. See you next time, Phil."
With a wink and a click of his fingers, Harry disappeared with a pop.
It was only seconds later that Nick burst in through the backdoor, dart gun on his shoulder. Phil was staring at the empty space where Harry had sat.
"Motherfucker," Nick growled.
Phil sipped at his coffee and wondered what had given them away.
Steve scrubbed at the colander before setting it aside to dry. A glance around the kitchen assured him that there was nothing left to wash up.
"Is there anything that needs doing in the living room?"
A moment later, Harry called back, "Nope! Get your arse over here, A New Hope awaits us."
Steve grinned, emptying out the washing up water and drying his hands on a towel before grabbing two beers out of the fridge. He popped the caps off with his thumbs, then shot a guilty look at the doorway. Harry wasn't aware of Steve's alter-ego and he'd been instructed to keep it that way for as long as possible.
"I'm coming, I'm coming… are you sure this is the right order to watch them in?
"As sure as Tatooine is sandy," came Harry's baffling reply.
"I don't know what that means," Steve called back.
"Then you better get in here and watch the movie!"
Steve snorted and walked into the living room, unsurprised to find what was either the first or the fourth of the Star Wars Episodes already loaded on his DVD player.
"Here," he said, passing Harry his drink. "Budge up, then."
Harry shuffled to the side and Steve sank into the sofa. He took a long draught of beer, enjoying the cool taste.
"Thanks for cooking, Harry."
"Eh." Harry waved his hands dismissively. "It was a team effort. Next time you'll be able to cook a roast dinner all by yourself."
"Ha, not much point cooking just for one," Steve said. He imagined the shock on Peggy's face if he'd brought her back to this flat and cooked for her. She'd probably be fascinated by the future and all of the technological improvements. And the women's rights? She'd be in heaven.
"That's what friends are for," Harry said, thumping his shoulder. "Come on, you big lump. What use are those muscles if you don't use them to get the remote? Less moping and more watching."
The remote was fiddly and delicate, but Steve had long mastered its use. He aimed it at the TV and started the movie. The nice thing about company was that it stopped him from falling too deep into his memories.
Music began to play and despite himself, Steve leaned forward to read the text appearing on the screen. This movie had been made over thirty years ago yet it still held the fascination of children and adults alike in modern day. He was looking forward to watching something that had held in such high regard.
A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...
A/N: I've recently changed my name from The Lady Rogue to The Feisty Rogue. Props to you if you spotted that. I hope you enjoy the update... I enjoy reviews in much the same way Harry enjoys cannoli.