* CRASH !

the sun on his face — something he could never take for granted. steve rogers had been sitting on the edge of a busy intersection, pretending to be a customer at the coffee place that sat on that same corner so he could sit and enjoy himself. at the small table for two he been occupying, he had his leather bound notebook in front of him and a pen in his right hand but the way the gears in his brain were turning, the chance of him getting something on paper was slim to none. maybe if he watched a few more clouds; although, that was the same thing he’d been saying for the past hour. before he could even take another breath, he could feel the presence of someone else nearing him. he closed his notebook. ❝ don’t worry about me. i’m finishing my business here — you can have my table. it has a great view of the... traffic cams. ❞

if there was one thing he enjoyed the most, it was moments like these — the almost silence between the two of them felt unparalleled and laid-back, something that he had never found himself familiar with. seemingly always on alert, steve’s ears all but perked up from where he stood at the counter when tony settled himself and he turned to face him, both hands cupped around the warm mug that read better late than ugly. ( he’d understand that one if it was the last thing he did. ) setting it down in front of the other, steve shrugged his shoulders, but just barely. ❝ oh, same old, same old... 13 miles in half an hour gets old after a while, ❞ with a smile, he stood up straight and nodded in tony’s direction. ❝ long night? i never know when to expect you to be up anymore. ❞

❝ lucky guess. ❞ he smiled now, slightly bowing his head. did he need her help training? well, no, — but he wanted it. the soft spot he reserved for natasha was one of fondness and respect, and he planned on keeping it that way. once she put on her own pair of gloves, steve willingly held up his hands for her to punch, jab, or swipe at. ❝ you’re not exactly an open book. but... i think you knew that. ❞ 

❝ jumpy, ❞ steve repeated, nodding to himself. he looks down at his own books and offers what’s almost a smile before he looks back up at her. ❝ i could say the same thing about being jumpy. i think some people might find that admirable. ❞ steve’s smile doesn’t fade as he shakes his head, tightening the grip he had on the spines of his books, then held them up to show her. ❝ no, no... my mom used to cook like that, ❞ he gestures at her recipe books again to clarify. ❝ if mom’s is what you’re looking for, you’re definitely in the right place. ❞ another smile — maybe he can’t help it. ❝ our book choices are a little different, but... maybe next time. ❞

he wasn’t stupid. no, far from — steve had easily grasped almost everything that was up and running in the compound, and would eventually pride himself in working the up and coming stark technology. the technology in question: just a keurig. ❝ tony, ❞ he called out, but not as loudly as he anticipated. this had been the second time in the past week that the coffee he made had been too strong, almost undrinkable, but he was sure that if he told anybody that, he would be easily made fun of for just how white he took his. cream, sugar, cream, sugar, then throw in a little more cream, then he’s happy. looking back down at the mug in front of him, he furrowed his brow and spoke, but mostly to himself. ❝ if you want this, it’s for you. ❞

the swiss alps was where they had located themselves; peggy, the howling commandos, and himself had found themselves almost frozen to the bone for the past 24 hours, but as far as an act of patriotism, it was hard for him to decide if it was worth it. from heel to teeth, he was sure that it was his duty, and that the things peggy carter could and would do would always be the greater good. in the rain, she stood tall. the solace he found in her was unlike any other, but if you were to ask him, he would simply go on to say that he was proud of the work she did. their camp certainly lacked the ritz of the bases back home, making steve feel almost obligated to bring a change of scenery... if that were possible. before he could even swallow the fear in his throat, he’d found himself holding a soaking wet newspaper and standing outside the zipped door of peggy’s tent. “agent carter,” he started, rolling the newspaper up in his hands, his voice diplomatic. “are you — ” steve paused. cleared his throat. furrowed his brow. “... decent?”

in and out, he’d told himself. steve had found it easier to get lost in the books if he didn’t - but he didn’t see that as such a bad thing, anyway. when he was at the library, to steve, it wasn’t always about the books. he found solace in the quiet and comfort in the privacy of a town he could sometimes forget was good. but this time, the library called to him in a way of wanting to know more. in his hands he firmly held the art of war and catcher in the rye, but now in the company of a stranger from a few feet away, he found himself stopping from going slack-jawed. now, he was almost certain that he had been subtle, or at the very least polite, but it seemed that his efforts failed. “sorry, i was looking at...” steve kept his mouth open for a moment before closing it, now shaking his head in defeat and gesturing to the recipe book she had closed. he felt like a deer caught in headlights, but with pinker cheeks. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to be obvious. i guess that’s not my strong suit.”

"so... a guy can’t even work out in peace anymore, huh?” steve turned, a half-smile already on his face, to face natasha. he ripped the velcro of the fighting gloves that were wrapped around his fists and slid them both off, shrugging his shoulders. “you could help me with my sets... or...” steve paused, now crossing over the training room and taking in a deep breath, then looking back over his shoulder at her. “i could brief you on general ross’ plan for working in latveria. but... the sets seem like they might be more your speed.”

steve rogers —  tag drop !