Work Text:
Quinn went to the same coffee shop on her lunch break every Friday as a treat to herself and every Friday on her lunch break, the same man would be sitting at the same table by the window drawing in a sketchbook. She was intrigued by him. She never saw him show up and never saw him leave, so as far as she knew he could live there. But she didn't think so. He was certainly attractive - tall, blond, well-built - but he struck her as the quiet sort. Quinn couldn't peg why she thought that, maybe because of the art, but she had a little fiction all built up in her head about him. Which was silly, she told herself over and over, he's just a guy in a coffee shop.
Every once in a while, she would catch him staring at her while she drank her coffee. It unnerved her at first until she remembered that she had been staring at him in the first place. She didn't mind it when she caught him staring now, she liked looking at his eyes, and she liked that he never seemed embarrassed when she caught him staring. His eyes were a bright, clear blue that seemed to see right into her soul and she was entranced by them every now and again.
Today when he looked up from his drawing, his eyes boring right into hers, she decided to act rashly. She got up from her table, walked over to his, and sat down across from him. This, finally, drew out a look of surprise from him. "Hi," she said, smiling.
"Uh, hi," he replied, trying and failing to be subtle while closing his sketchbook. Quinn smirked. With his art successfully hidden, the man seemed to regain some composure. "So I guess you noticed me staring at you." He was confident when he said it, Quinn noted, almost as if he was daring her to be annoyed by it, which meant, of course, that she couldn't be. It would be falling into his trap.
"That I did." Quinn thought for a half second which tack to take on this one and decided for flirty. "Doesn't bother me one bit though, if it means I get to look at your eyes instead of the top of your head. I'm Quinn Scott, by the way." She extended her hand to him to shake.
"Steve Rogers," he said, grinning and taking her hand in his and giving it a small shake. A small shake, Quinn noticed, but a firm grip.
"I noticed, Steve, that you're here every time I come in here. Do you live here?" A stupid question, Quinn thought, but it was a way to break the ice.
Steve laughed, a hearty, good-natured laugh that went to his eyes. "No ma'am I do not. It's just a good place to watch people I guess and for me that's a good thing."
Quinn glanced down at his sketchpad. "You an artist then?"
"Yes. Struggling, but yes." Steve placed a hand over his book, moving it instinctively towards himself a bit. His art must be very important to him, Quinn thought, to be so protective of it. "I see you here every Friday, so you're not exactly a stranger. Do you work around here?"
"Mhm, I do. At a security firm up the street. "
"Oh yeah?"
"Yep, very top secret. If I told you what it was, I'd have to kill you," Quinn replied in a playful tone.
Steve chuckled and raised his hands in front of him as if to surrender. "Please, don't tell me."
Quinn laughed. She liked this guy, she thought. She had been worried he would turn out to be a total weirdo and ruin her illusion of him. "Can I see your sketchbook?" she asked. At Steve's uncomfortable stare back at her, she pressed on. "I know, everyone probably asks you that and it's the most uninventive question in the world, but I figure since you're staring at me all the time and most girls find that creepy, I should be able to take one look."
"I don't think-" Steve began to protest, but was cut off by Quinn.
"Oh come on!"
"It's probably not the best-"
"Whatever." With lightening speed, Quinn grabbed the book away before Steve could stop her. Once he knew it was gone, he made no move to get it back, instead sitting very still in his chair with a pained but resigned look on his face.
Now that Quinn had the book, she was almost nervous to open it. It was either going to be filled with something amazing, or something absolutely horrendous, and she wasn't sure what she would do if it was the latter. Her little fantasy of him would be shattered, she supposed, but with the consolation that there were worse things that could happen, she opened the book.
And was met by pages of sketches of her own face looking back at her. Well, not all were looking back at her, most were looking off to the side while she drank her coffee, or some were her looking down at her phone. One or two were of her looking at Steve. She looked at him now, utterly baffled. "I..."
Steve reached over and snatched the book back, colour rising in embarrassment in his cheeks. "You weren't supposed to see them," he muttered.
"I'm sorry," Quinn said quietly. She got up and headed to the door. She heard Steve swearing behind her as she left. She didn't understand. He didn't even know her and his book was filled with her? Maybe he was creepy, like she had joked about to him before. Or maybe... She had built up a little fantasy in her head about him, was it so ridiculous to think he hadn't done the same about her? Not that she had ever expected him to, and who knew if he had, since she was just tiny and plain and he was, well... a specimen, to say the least, looks-wise. Why would he have been captivated by her? She stopped in the nearest alley to organize her thoughts.
"Quinn, wait." She had been so caught in her head that she hadn't heard Steve come up. He stood in front of her now, a very pained look on his face. When she didn't say anything, he ploughed on. "I'm sorry, I know that me drawing you over and over seems really creepy, but it's not like that at all, I just... You're always there when I'm there and, well, I look at you and you seem so vibrant and warm and I just wanted to try to capture that, capture your essence because I guess... I don't know, this seems dumb when I say it out loud and-"
Steve's apology was cut short by Quinn's lips on his mouth. She wasn't sure why she had kissed him, but something about that rambling, bumbling apology had clicked inside her and she couldn't help her urge to get her hands on him. He was tentative, surprised at first, but when it clicked into his head what was happening, he kissed her back, warm and soft. One of Quinn's hands moved to cup the back of Steve's head, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer to her, pressing his body against hers.
She moaned softly into his mouth - she was not expecting how good kissing Steve would be. Sure, she had built up a fantasy about him, but it did not include this. Spurred on by her pleasure, Steve ramped up the kissing, his mouth moving more eagerly over hers, asking for more. She gave it, this time eliciting a moan from him. He pushed them back until Quinn was pressed against the alley wall, the warm strength of Steve against her, ravishing her.
He pulled back first, breathing heavily, a look of pure lust in his eyes.
"Well," Quinn said simply. She was shaken, not sure what to say.
"Well," Steve echoed her, but started backing away.
"We should, ah, do that again some time," Quinn suggested. It sounded so lame to her, but Steve smiled at her.
"Sure. Next Friday?"
"Uh, yeah. Lunch. Maybe dinner later?"
"Sounds good. See you, Quinn." And with that, he left her standing there in the alley, dazed. She couldn't wait until next Friday.