Chapter Eight: Steve Rogers

Fumbling with a set of keys, Steve let himself into Maggie's apartment, pulling Zoë along with him. He could hear Maggie and Molly arguing in the kitchen and he knocked loudly before entering.

Piles of papers were spread across the table, red markings on most of them. Molly seemed indifferent, but Maggie looked like she was about to cry.
"Oh, hi, Steve," she said, blinking back tears.
"Hey Maggie…"

It must have been the tone of his voice that suddenly set Maggie on edge.
"Did they follow you?" she instantly asked.
"Who?"
"Whoever it is you are running from."
"Who said we're running from something?" Zoë questioned.

From the living room doorway appeared Natasha, chewing some gum. She gave Steve a small smirk.
"Where is it?" Steve demanded.
"Safe."
"Do better."
"Where did you get it."
"Why would I tell you?"
"Fury gave it to you. Why?"
"What's on it?"
"I don't know."
"Stop lying!"
"I only act like I know everything, Rogers."
"I bet you knew Fury hired the pirates, didn't you?"
"Well, it makes sense. The ship was dirty, Fury needed a way in, so do you."

Behind them, a gentle voice spoke up.
"Please stop reaching for your guns. I'd like to keep my walls intact." Steve backed down from Natasha, moving to Maggie's side.
"I know who killed Fury," Natasha finally said. "Most of the intelligence community doesn't believe he exists, the ones who do call him the Winter Solider. He's credited with over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years."
"So, he's a ghost story," Steve said.
"Five years ago, I was escorted a nuclear engineer out of Iran, somebody shot out my tires near Odessa. We lost control, went straight over a cliff, pulled us out, but the Winter Solider was there. I was covering my engineer, so he shot him straight through me."

The Russian pulled up her shirt, showing everyone the scar on the side of her stomach.
"Soviet slug, no rifling. Bye-bye bikinis."
"It looks badass," chirped Molly. Natasha sent her a grin.
"Thanks, kid."
"I was tasked with finding the Winter Soldier, after that mission," Zoë said. "Going after him is a dead end. Like you said, Steve, he's a ghost story."

A small glint of silver appeared in Natasha's hand, causing the super solider to groan. He reached forward, stealing the flash drive from her. It had been the last thing Fury had given him.
"Let's find out what the ghost wants," Steve said. He looked down at Maggie, the woman having stayed quiet.
"Do you have clothes we can borrow?"
"By borrow you mean ruin and never return?"
"Unfortunately."
"Yes, yes I do." She studied him for a second. "Some of Riley's stuff might fit you."

After he changed, Steve found Maggie curled up on the couch, a wine glass in her hands.
"If they come here," she began.
"They won't. They don't know anything about you."
"If they come here, Steve, what should I expect?"

He collapsed onto the sofa beside her, giving her a lopsided smile when she held out her wine glass.
"It'll just burn through my body, Maggie."
"And?" He took the glass, taking a small sip.
"If they come, you deny everything," he said. "You never saw us. Hell, you didn't even know Steve Rogers was in D.C."
"Okay. But what if—"

Part of Steve wondered if he tended to be too brash. To run into things without looking. He'd only known her for a few months, had only taken her on one date. But for some reason, pressing his lips against hers was the first thought that passed through his mind.

Maggie fell instantly silent, kissing him back softly.
"Ewww," called Molly.
"Get a room." They broke apart laughing, Steve resting his head against Maggie's.
"I agree with the kid," said Zoë.
"Come back to me, Steven Rogers," Maggie murmured.
"I will try my best."
"That's all I ask."

From behind them, Steve could hear Molly groan when he kissed Maggie again. This time, he wasn't so hesitant. He could taste the wine on her lips.
"Decide on our next date, yeah?" he suggested, standing from the couch.
"Dinner?"
"Sounds like a plan."

Steve resisted the urge to run back to Maggie as he closed the door to her apartment. Zoë gave him a sly look.
"You move fast, Rogers," she remarked. "Definitely took you as an old-fashioned, no kiss before the wedding type man." He rolled his eyes at her as Natasha smirked.
"All right, old man. First rule of going on the run is, don't run, walk." Steve nodded slowly.
"If I run in these shoes, they're gonna fall off." Zoë laughed, running a hand through her hair.
"Her ex must've had big feet if they're too big for you."
Steve smiled lightly, "Yep."

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