Chapter Text
Steve flipped the notecard between his fingers repeatedly. He stared at the white door in front of him. Above the peephole were a silver 2 and 8. He took a breath before finally knocking gently on the door. The knocks were steady and sure, unlike the soldiers current feelings. The longer he stood waiting for a response the more he wanted to run. What was he doing? Why did he think this was a good idea? Slowly he turned on his heel staring down the brightly lit hallway. Because the universe had the best sense of humor the door behind him opened with a squeak of the hinges.
“Damn,” he cursed under his breath.
Turning back around a woman was staring up at him. She was wearing a tight long-sleeve black workout top tucked into loose dark grey sweatpants that were hanging low on her hips.
“Hey,” the woman said.
“Romanoff,” his voice came out deceptively strong and sure.
There was silence, as if he had something more he wanted to say. She left the air open, waiting for him to finish his thought. Forty seconds passed, still nothing.
“At least come in. You spend way too much time hanging outside my door, people think it’s weird,” she swung her arm out and into the apartment.
He walked in and watched her close the door behind him. As she walked the waistband of her sweats shifted and he could a crescent shaped sliver of skin. She must have been wearing some kind of leotard not a shirt. That interested him. He remembered the dancers from the shows he did in the 40s wearing leotards. He never saw anyone who wasn’t a dancer wearing one.
“You come here for a reason, or you gonna stare at me silently?”
“Uhm, I…I wanted to give you something.”
She nodded, saying nothing but continued looking at him. He didn’t move.
“Did you forget it?” she finally asked.
“Oh, uh, no. I have it right here,” he lifted up the notecard so she could take it.
She stared at the light blue card. One one side there was solid black lettering, it was Steve’s handwriting.
One coffee, on me
She smiled at the card.
“You got a day or time?” she chuckled at him.
“Up to you. You don’t have to take it though.”
“Hey I got a coupon, I plan on using it,” she joked.
He smiled at her, feeling some of his tension fade.
“Alright Rogers, Tuesday at nine. Meet me at the bottom of the steps of the Smithsonian. The commute will be easy for you,” her grin was practically ear to ear.
He laughed.
“I’ll see you then,” he walked to the door and smiled back at her as he walked out.
Looking back, he could see her smiling at the floor as the door closed. That woman was trouble, but in the most beautiful way.