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Hermione felt she might as well be running a marathon given how much she was sweating and how her feet hurt. Living the Muggle life was not as easy as she had hoped. Sure, she was no one now, which meant no fans, stalkers, death threats or other literal curses sent her way. It was… peaceful. Except when she had a shift at the café on the busy weekends.
Tips were good however, so she put up with the tiring work, awful patrons and mess. How people managed to sit at a perfectly clean table for coffee and leave it looking like a pigsty twenty minutes later was a mystery.
"Need a hand?" Steve asked, literally offering his large but bony hand to take her heavy platter.
Hermione smiled at the small blond. At least her colleagues, and even her boss, were nice.
"I can do it," she assured him, trying not to show she was about to drop it, along with the hundred dirty cups perched precariously on top of it.
She pushed passed him since it didn't look like he believed her, and he could be quite stubborn. Worse than Harry and Ron combined, in fact, which was saying a lot. And if she wasn't mistaken, he was going to prove her right, because he followed her all the way to the back kitchen. Hermione began to load the dishwasher, pointedly not looking at Steve in the hopes he got the hint.
"It's perfectly alright to ask for help, you know?" Steve began.
"I don't need help," Hermione huffed. "Besides, you're one to talk. You didn't let me help you out when that client was harassing you."
"That's different."
"Different how? You needed help, I could have helped, but you turned me down."
"A dame like you shouldn't put herself in a dangerous situation like that and-"
"A dame? Like me?" Hermione raised an eyebrow and gave up on the dishwasher.
It was laughable because her life had been rife with danger since the day she stepped foot in the wizarding world, a mere eleven years old. A pervy Muggle wasn't even remotely close to what she considered dangerous.
"Grow up, Steve. It's the twenty first century. Besides, I bet I'm stronger than you."
Without using her magic, of course. She wasn't the kind of person to cheat. Steve was just so… fragile looking. All big blue eyes on a big head and a pale, skinny body. In their little café universe, he was a camomile. She had heard their boss hired him because he took pity on him, but then again, those same rumours said he took pity on her for being an orphan. In sum, their boss was a big pushover.
"Stronger?" Steve looked offended.
Hermione nodded without hesitation.
"I might not look like much, but I assure you I can pack a punch," she said smugly as she thought of punching Malfoy in third year. She was like an espresso, and proud of it. "You've got a big heart, Steve, I'll grant you that, but you've got about as much muscles as a sea sponge."
Steve frowned in confusion.
"None!" Hermione sighed.
"You know the weirdest things," he chuckled right back. "Alright, I'll accept your challenge."
What challenge? Now it was her turn to be confused.
"Arm wrestling. Right here, right now. If you win, I'll admit you're stronger than me and won't offer to help again."
"And if you win?" she asked cautiously, smelling a trap.
"Well...uh...maybe, if you want, that is...a date? You and me? On a date?"
Hermione stared at Steve, at his big, blue, hopeful eyes and she felt a blush creep up her neck. She had not even realized Steve might be interested in her. Sure, they got along, but she had always put that on the count that he was as secretive as her and never pried into her past the way others did. Part of her wanted to let him win, but the other part knew it wasn't a good idea. Not when she had such a big secret to keep from him. It wouldn't be fair.
"You're on, Rogers. Kiss your arm goodbye."
Steve smirked, leaned over the dishwasher between them and waited. He looked so sure if himself, Hermione hesitated.
"I knew it. You're all talk, Granger."
She shouldn't rise to such taunts, but the Gryffindor in her just had to prove him wrong, so she leaned over, placing her hand against his. Her blush bloomed anew at the contact, but she was determined to win, and refused to look away. He counted to three and their battle began.
It was probably the most pitiful arm wrestling match in the world as they pitted all their strength against the other, grimacing and sweating in their effort to win. It would be funny if it wasn't so sad.
To be honest, Hermione was impressed Steve could hold his own against her. He looked sickly, she had really believed she was stronger than him, but here she was, unable to move his arm an inch. If she had to guess, he was holding on out of sheer stubbornness.
"Give up," he said through gritted teeth.
"In your dreams," she hissed.
And the battle continued. She swore she had gained ground. She was going to win… but suddenly, Steve...grew. Like that Hulk guy they sometimes saw on the news, only less green. Her arm slammed against the dishwasher's surface as she cried out in both pain and surprise. For his part, Steve had ripped out of his clothes, tall and muscular and healthy. But he also looked horrified. At what he had done, or because he was naked, she wasn't sure, so Hermione, ever the helpful one, tossed him her apron with her arm that didn't feel like jelly.
"I… Hermione...I can explain," he said.
So this was normal? Was he Hulk's little brother maybe? New York was such a weird place, but so was the magical world. No need for him to be so distraught, as it had obviously been an accident.
"You didn't win," she said.
"I...what?"
"You obviously cheated. I ask for a rematch." She winced. "As soon as I get a new arm."
"Oh gosh. I'm so sorry," he exclaimed as he took in the state of her arm. "Don't move, I'll call for help."
"I don't need-"
Steve gave her a baleful glare. It was strange having to crane her neck up to speak to him now. And okay, she did kind of need help this once since she didn't want to have to go to the magical world to get her arm fixed. If Steve wanted to call an ambulance, so be it.
Except he didn't. It was a black van that came to pick them up, men in suits ushering them in and giving Steve clothes that fit him while others stayed behind at the café.
She had no idea what was going on, but she now knew why Steve was so secretive.
"You better not be kidnapping me," she warned, wishing for the first time since she had muggled up that she had not left her wand at home.
"I know it looks bad," he admitted, "But we're just going to some friends of mine. They'll sort everything out. I didn't think I would ever be like this again or I wouldn't have put you in danger like that."
"Danger," she snorted, because they had just been cooking around.
Then saw where they heading, and her eyes widened. She looked at Steve again, trying to see only the chunks of muscles and chiseled face instead of the smaller Steve she had become friends with these last few months, and realisation dawned.
"You're Captain America!" she accused, pointing a finger at him.
He had disappeared from the public eye for a while, with no explanation from the other Avengers.
"Bloody hell! You're Captain America!" she repeated, almost hoping he would contradict her, but he only winced.
Right, that was as bad as someone shouting out to the wizarding world she was Hermione Granger. She took a couple of slow breaths to steady herself. Everything was fine. He was still Steve beneath all the muscles judging by how he had reacted after his transformation.
"I almost won at arm wrestling against Captain America," she said, oozing smugness.
"Almost," he pointed out. The car stopped and he opened his door, then stopped and turned to look at her with his familiar, earnest gaze. "Please don't tell Tony. Or Natasha. Or… Please don't tell any of them. I'll never live it down."
"Only if we have a rematch?"
"A rematch? Hermione… As much as I want to win that date, I don't think it would be fair now."
Hermione grinned. The Avengers knew about magic because of Loki, which gave her a good excuse to reveal her status as a witch. The MACUSA might give her a slip of the wrist, but it's not like she would be revealing all of her world's secrets. Just her own.
"You wait, Rogers. I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."