Avengers fic: Serenade pt2
Story: Serenade
Author: Cincoflex
Fandom: Avengers 2012
Pairing: Steve Rogers/OC
Summary: Everyone on the team seems to have someone special except Steve, and that's about to change.
Author's Notes: This is for Lovellama who is not only a terrific beta, but also a romantic and generous person!
He knew Lauren was up to something; she always blushed when trying to change the subject, and seeing her going pink was fun. Steve gave her his best semi-stern look as he leaned on the counter, and she giggled.
“Okay, okay, it’s the little bar at the Doubletree. Their regular is on vacation and she suggested I fill in for her. I’m scared to death, but I think I’m ready,” she confessed.
Steve nodded, running through his schedule in his head. “I’m pretty sure I can make it,” he told her, painfully aware of the empty hours of his evening. “What time?”
“Steve, no! You don’t have to come see me make a fool of myself!” she blurted, reaching out to touch his arm, her fingers light.
“You’re going to be great and I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he grinned. “Want me to give you and Joe a ride?”
“Grampa’s got poker at Phil and Lucy’s, and anyway he doesn’t know yet. I haven’t exactly told him.”
That explained the guilty look, Steve realized. He shook his head lightly. “Lauren, Lauren-you know he’ll be proud of you too!”
“It’s not the being proud part, it’s the crowd and the nerves,” she replied, shrugging one shoulder up in embarrassment. “Steve, if I bomb . . . I don’t want him to see it. I don’t want to have him watch me go down in flames.” To emphasize her point she sent one little hand on a downward glide to hit the counter, and Steve winced inwardly at his own memories.
“Okay, I can understand that, I guess,” he gave a reluctant nod. “But you’re not going to bomb; you’ve got talent and a great voice. You’ll have them eating out of your hand.”
“Thanks,” she murmured in that breathless way and when she smiled Steve felt slightly giddy deep inside. He pushed both hands onto the counter to try and recover.
“So . . . what time should I pick you up?”
“What? No-you don’t have to do that!” she protested. “I can get the bus.”
“That might be okay to get there but you’ll be done by what, eleven? You’re not riding the bus at that hour; not alone,” Steve informed her earnestly. “It’s no trouble to drive you.”
“This wasn’t about getting a ride from you,” Lauren murmured, and she busied herself with refilling one of the napkin holders.
“I know, but if I’m going to see you anyway, it just makes sense to be able to take you there and bring you back,” he pointed out. “And if you still want to keep it from Joe-which I don’t think you should-but if you do, then you can tell him we’re going to a movie.”
It wasn’t manipulation, he argued with himself; the buses weren’t safe after dark, and the chance to be with Lauren was too good to miss. She was look at him now, and he liked the way her cheek dimpled when she smiled.
“Okay,” she conceded sweetly. “It would help to have someone in my cheering section, and if you’re going that way . . . about nine or so. I’ll need to get there a little early.”
They made plans, arranging to meet back at Time Was. Steve found himself feeling pleasantly nervous, and it was only a few hours later while brushing his teeth after his workout shower that he realized why.
It was the first time he’d made a date he had a chance of keeping.
That hit like a soft punch below the belt, and for a long couple of moments he stared at his foamy-mouthed reflection in the mirror, wondering why he felt guilty. Peggy had moved on with her life years ago; he’d accepted that . . . hadn’t he?
Steve rinsed out his mouth and leaned over the sink, gripping it tightly. Peggy Carter had grieved for him, and in time she’d gone on to get married and live a long, productive life without him. He’d faced that reality and mourned what could have been, but now and then Steve felt the splinters of doubt prodding him in tender places.
He fished out his cell phone and dialed a number. “Hi. I uh, I just wanted to tell you I’m going on a date.”
“That’s vonderful Steve!”
“Thanks. Right now though . . . it doesn’t . . . feel wonderful.”
“Ahhh. You are rrremembering Peggy, and the date you never kept.”
“Yeah,” Steve admitted, carrying the phone into his bedroom and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Tell me Doc, why is it my head and my body can’t get on the same team?”
“They are; you are simply experiencing some doubt about your own ability to move forward. Tell me-if Peggy had been the one to face certain death, what do you think she would have told YOU to do, Steve?”
It didn’t take much thought. “She would have told me to go on and have a good life.”
“Exactly! Her feelings for you were such that she would vant you to be happy, and that would most certainly mean giving yourself permission to find it, yes?”
Steve thought back to Peggy-fierce, proud, and compassionate. “Oh yeah.”
“Good. My advice is to do just that. Peggy is gone and you are here. This date is just an opportunity to start moving. Have a lovely time, and I will talk to you soon.”
Steve sighed, feeling a hell of a lot better. “Thanks doc. ‘Night.”
“Good night!”
*** *** ***
The piano player for the lounge was a bony beanpole named Mel Fein, and he had glasses as thick as lighthouse lenses. Luckily he could play on pure instinct, and when he turned his myopic gaze towards her, Lauren tried not to giggle at his magnified eyes.
“Okay sweetheart, what’s your repertoire?” he croaked kindly. “Bacharach? Streisand hits? Maybe some watered down disco?”
“Uh, I was thinking some Sinatra and Peggy Lee,” Lauren countered softly. “Stuff that’s a little more . . .”
“Torchy,” Mel supplied happily. “You got it, doll-face. I think you and I are gonna get along fine. Key of C okay with you?”
“Perfect,” she agreed, handing him some sheet music. He took it, grinning as he looked over the scores, nodding in approval at the titles.
“Hoo-boy, the classics. These take me back.” Mel peered up at Lauren, smiling. “This the lineup you want?”
“If that’s okay.”
“Works for me, Toots. Whenever you’re ready.”
Lauren took a breath, smiled out at the audience and felt her heart sink a little. Four. Only four people out there-two businessmen, a lady on her laptop, and Steve. Ah well; had to start somewhere.
She sang. It was easy to work with Mel, who clearly loved the songs as much as she did. He took her through Black Coffee and You’d Be so Nice to Come Home to and My Funny Valentine without missing a beat, his long fingers keeping the tunes soft under her voice. Lauren tried to sing to everybody, but her gaze kept going back to Steve, who sat ramrod straight at his table, his palms caressing the glass of Pepsi between his big hands. By the time she worked her way through In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning, she knew that not only was Steve the only one listening to her, but that he was also the only one that mattered.
The songs flowed, and suddenly the words meant so much more as Lauren crooned them, saying things she’d only dreamed about to the man out there in the shadows. It was almost arousing to be able to tease and confess, to bare herself heart and soul this way.
And given how he kept his eyes on her the whole time, Lauren hoped the feeling was maybe a little bit mutual, although she couldn’t really tell. By the time she’d started Daddy, though, she felt Steve’s gaze smolder a bit. She gave it her best low tease, making her way through the verses and gave a few sways of her hips for emphasis. By the time she finished, even Mel behind her clapped, grinning.
The businessmen applauded politely; the woman with the laptop didn’t bother glancing her way. Steve however, was looking at her as if . . . well as if she was an apple pie he wanted to gobble up. Lauren blushed at that while she said goodnight and went to thank Mel.
“Wonderful workin’ with you,” he croaked back, grinning. “You got the chops, kid. I’m gonna put in a word with the manager so we can get you back. Loved that last one-you did Julie proud, ya did!”
“Thanks.” Impulsively Lauren hugged him. “You made it a lot of fun!”
Steve walked over, and before she even looked up Lauren could feel the heat coming off of him. He was smiling shyly, but there was something about the way he studied her that made Lauren want to lick her lips. “You liked it.”
“I more than liked it,” he murmured back, picking up her backpack and swinging it over his shoulder. “You were terrific.”
He was so earnest, his gaze so direct that Lauren found it hard look back at him. “Thanks for being out there, Steve; you were a lifeline!”
“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world!” he told her, grinning, and she slipped her arms around him, hugging him hard. The minute she did, Lauren sighed; Steve was all warm muscle with a hint of aftershave, a pillar of a man. Dizzily, crazily she wondered for a moment what he’d look like without a shirt.
God she hoped she’d get a chance to find out.
It started to rain halfway through the ride back home, and Lauren clung more tightly to Steve as he slowed the motorcycle down in response, and she squirmed a bit, feeling the vibrations all through her in a way she didn’t really need at the moment. Having her arms around his waist was tempting enough, but being bounced as well didn’t help at all, not with the way she was feeling about him.
It wasn’t just that he was handsome. Heck, it wasn’t about Steve being handsome-it was about him being so . . . everything else. Being sweet, and kind, and considerate, and funny, and gentle. Being good to grandpa. Being a little bit lost and a little bit lonely too. Lauren understood that last part pretty damned well herself, but seeing it in Steve made her want to just . . . well . . . love him.
When they reached the Time Was, Steve rolled the big bike into the side alley and parked it, then helped her off and hurried with her to the awning that covered the side door that led to the upstairs apartment. The light was on, so Grandpa was home, Lauren noted with mingled relief and disappointment. She had hoped to invite Steve in for a private moment, but now that wasn’t likely.
She reached for the backpack on his shoulder, suddenly aware that she probably looked like crap all wet from the rain, but Steve didn’t let it go. Instead, he looked at her, his own hair darker and plastered down from the rain.
“I had a good time tonight,” he told her. “Best time in . . . well, years.”
“Me too,” Lauren replied. She felt a shiver of fear in her stomach as a sudden mad impulse surged through her. She wanted this, wanted it so badly . . . “Steve . . .”
He moved closer under the awning, bending a little to hear her, and Lauren raised her head moving closer as well, passing that daring point of being misunderstood, looking up at Steve and hoping, hoping . . .
The press of his lips was so exquisitely soft, and Lauren shivered. The minute his mouth touched hers, she gave a sigh that mingled with his, and then the kiss melded and grew, becoming their kiss, a hungry, urgent thing, quiet but intense. She savored it, pressing against him and trying to slow the frantic beat of her heart.
They kept kissing breathlessly, nuzzling together, lost to the rain and the dark and the cold, swept up in this new paradigm. Lauren felt fire racing through her, heat flaring between them at a barely controlled level making her achy and breathless and hungry. Steve scooped her up; she felt her feet leave the ground, and Lauren clung to him, shyly parting her lips and letting her tongue touch his. He groaned in surrender, making her wriggle---
“Lauren, did you forget your k-whoa! Sorry kids, sorry . . . I’ll just . . .” came Joe’s voice as the door opened a crack and closed again.
In a rush, Lauren found herself standing again, reality slamming back in the cold, wet chill of the rainy night. She looked up at Steve, who seemed just as reluctant to let her go, and licked her lips. “Do, do you want to come in?” she asked him.
Steve shook his head, flinging raindrops as he did so. “I . . . can’t stay,” he told her gruffly, eyes never leaving hers. “Lauren . . .” but he didn’t finish whatever it was he wanted to say. He touched her cheek and turned, striding off into the downpour and she watched him go before taking a deep breath. Lauren touched her mouth, remembering Steve’s kisses, locking the sensation away before turning to the door and going inside.
Author: Cincoflex
Fandom: Avengers 2012
Pairing: Steve Rogers/OC
Summary: Everyone on the team seems to have someone special except Steve, and that's about to change.
Author's Notes: This is for Lovellama who is not only a terrific beta, but also a romantic and generous person!
He knew Lauren was up to something; she always blushed when trying to change the subject, and seeing her going pink was fun. Steve gave her his best semi-stern look as he leaned on the counter, and she giggled.
“Okay, okay, it’s the little bar at the Doubletree. Their regular is on vacation and she suggested I fill in for her. I’m scared to death, but I think I’m ready,” she confessed.
Steve nodded, running through his schedule in his head. “I’m pretty sure I can make it,” he told her, painfully aware of the empty hours of his evening. “What time?”
“Steve, no! You don’t have to come see me make a fool of myself!” she blurted, reaching out to touch his arm, her fingers light.
“You’re going to be great and I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he grinned. “Want me to give you and Joe a ride?”
“Grampa’s got poker at Phil and Lucy’s, and anyway he doesn’t know yet. I haven’t exactly told him.”
That explained the guilty look, Steve realized. He shook his head lightly. “Lauren, Lauren-you know he’ll be proud of you too!”
“It’s not the being proud part, it’s the crowd and the nerves,” she replied, shrugging one shoulder up in embarrassment. “Steve, if I bomb . . . I don’t want him to see it. I don’t want to have him watch me go down in flames.” To emphasize her point she sent one little hand on a downward glide to hit the counter, and Steve winced inwardly at his own memories.
“Okay, I can understand that, I guess,” he gave a reluctant nod. “But you’re not going to bomb; you’ve got talent and a great voice. You’ll have them eating out of your hand.”
“Thanks,” she murmured in that breathless way and when she smiled Steve felt slightly giddy deep inside. He pushed both hands onto the counter to try and recover.
“So . . . what time should I pick you up?”
“What? No-you don’t have to do that!” she protested. “I can get the bus.”
“That might be okay to get there but you’ll be done by what, eleven? You’re not riding the bus at that hour; not alone,” Steve informed her earnestly. “It’s no trouble to drive you.”
“This wasn’t about getting a ride from you,” Lauren murmured, and she busied herself with refilling one of the napkin holders.
“I know, but if I’m going to see you anyway, it just makes sense to be able to take you there and bring you back,” he pointed out. “And if you still want to keep it from Joe-which I don’t think you should-but if you do, then you can tell him we’re going to a movie.”
It wasn’t manipulation, he argued with himself; the buses weren’t safe after dark, and the chance to be with Lauren was too good to miss. She was look at him now, and he liked the way her cheek dimpled when she smiled.
“Okay,” she conceded sweetly. “It would help to have someone in my cheering section, and if you’re going that way . . . about nine or so. I’ll need to get there a little early.”
They made plans, arranging to meet back at Time Was. Steve found himself feeling pleasantly nervous, and it was only a few hours later while brushing his teeth after his workout shower that he realized why.
It was the first time he’d made a date he had a chance of keeping.
That hit like a soft punch below the belt, and for a long couple of moments he stared at his foamy-mouthed reflection in the mirror, wondering why he felt guilty. Peggy had moved on with her life years ago; he’d accepted that . . . hadn’t he?
Steve rinsed out his mouth and leaned over the sink, gripping it tightly. Peggy Carter had grieved for him, and in time she’d gone on to get married and live a long, productive life without him. He’d faced that reality and mourned what could have been, but now and then Steve felt the splinters of doubt prodding him in tender places.
He fished out his cell phone and dialed a number. “Hi. I uh, I just wanted to tell you I’m going on a date.”
“That’s vonderful Steve!”
“Thanks. Right now though . . . it doesn’t . . . feel wonderful.”
“Ahhh. You are rrremembering Peggy, and the date you never kept.”
“Yeah,” Steve admitted, carrying the phone into his bedroom and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Tell me Doc, why is it my head and my body can’t get on the same team?”
“They are; you are simply experiencing some doubt about your own ability to move forward. Tell me-if Peggy had been the one to face certain death, what do you think she would have told YOU to do, Steve?”
It didn’t take much thought. “She would have told me to go on and have a good life.”
“Exactly! Her feelings for you were such that she would vant you to be happy, and that would most certainly mean giving yourself permission to find it, yes?”
Steve thought back to Peggy-fierce, proud, and compassionate. “Oh yeah.”
“Good. My advice is to do just that. Peggy is gone and you are here. This date is just an opportunity to start moving. Have a lovely time, and I will talk to you soon.”
Steve sighed, feeling a hell of a lot better. “Thanks doc. ‘Night.”
“Good night!”
*** *** ***
The piano player for the lounge was a bony beanpole named Mel Fein, and he had glasses as thick as lighthouse lenses. Luckily he could play on pure instinct, and when he turned his myopic gaze towards her, Lauren tried not to giggle at his magnified eyes.
“Okay sweetheart, what’s your repertoire?” he croaked kindly. “Bacharach? Streisand hits? Maybe some watered down disco?”
“Uh, I was thinking some Sinatra and Peggy Lee,” Lauren countered softly. “Stuff that’s a little more . . .”
“Torchy,” Mel supplied happily. “You got it, doll-face. I think you and I are gonna get along fine. Key of C okay with you?”
“Perfect,” she agreed, handing him some sheet music. He took it, grinning as he looked over the scores, nodding in approval at the titles.
“Hoo-boy, the classics. These take me back.” Mel peered up at Lauren, smiling. “This the lineup you want?”
“If that’s okay.”
“Works for me, Toots. Whenever you’re ready.”
Lauren took a breath, smiled out at the audience and felt her heart sink a little. Four. Only four people out there-two businessmen, a lady on her laptop, and Steve. Ah well; had to start somewhere.
She sang. It was easy to work with Mel, who clearly loved the songs as much as she did. He took her through Black Coffee and You’d Be so Nice to Come Home to and My Funny Valentine without missing a beat, his long fingers keeping the tunes soft under her voice. Lauren tried to sing to everybody, but her gaze kept going back to Steve, who sat ramrod straight at his table, his palms caressing the glass of Pepsi between his big hands. By the time she worked her way through In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning, she knew that not only was Steve the only one listening to her, but that he was also the only one that mattered.
The songs flowed, and suddenly the words meant so much more as Lauren crooned them, saying things she’d only dreamed about to the man out there in the shadows. It was almost arousing to be able to tease and confess, to bare herself heart and soul this way.
And given how he kept his eyes on her the whole time, Lauren hoped the feeling was maybe a little bit mutual, although she couldn’t really tell. By the time she’d started Daddy, though, she felt Steve’s gaze smolder a bit. She gave it her best low tease, making her way through the verses and gave a few sways of her hips for emphasis. By the time she finished, even Mel behind her clapped, grinning.
The businessmen applauded politely; the woman with the laptop didn’t bother glancing her way. Steve however, was looking at her as if . . . well as if she was an apple pie he wanted to gobble up. Lauren blushed at that while she said goodnight and went to thank Mel.
“Wonderful workin’ with you,” he croaked back, grinning. “You got the chops, kid. I’m gonna put in a word with the manager so we can get you back. Loved that last one-you did Julie proud, ya did!”
“Thanks.” Impulsively Lauren hugged him. “You made it a lot of fun!”
Steve walked over, and before she even looked up Lauren could feel the heat coming off of him. He was smiling shyly, but there was something about the way he studied her that made Lauren want to lick her lips. “You liked it.”
“I more than liked it,” he murmured back, picking up her backpack and swinging it over his shoulder. “You were terrific.”
He was so earnest, his gaze so direct that Lauren found it hard look back at him. “Thanks for being out there, Steve; you were a lifeline!”
“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world!” he told her, grinning, and she slipped her arms around him, hugging him hard. The minute she did, Lauren sighed; Steve was all warm muscle with a hint of aftershave, a pillar of a man. Dizzily, crazily she wondered for a moment what he’d look like without a shirt.
God she hoped she’d get a chance to find out.
It started to rain halfway through the ride back home, and Lauren clung more tightly to Steve as he slowed the motorcycle down in response, and she squirmed a bit, feeling the vibrations all through her in a way she didn’t really need at the moment. Having her arms around his waist was tempting enough, but being bounced as well didn’t help at all, not with the way she was feeling about him.
It wasn’t just that he was handsome. Heck, it wasn’t about Steve being handsome-it was about him being so . . . everything else. Being sweet, and kind, and considerate, and funny, and gentle. Being good to grandpa. Being a little bit lost and a little bit lonely too. Lauren understood that last part pretty damned well herself, but seeing it in Steve made her want to just . . . well . . . love him.
When they reached the Time Was, Steve rolled the big bike into the side alley and parked it, then helped her off and hurried with her to the awning that covered the side door that led to the upstairs apartment. The light was on, so Grandpa was home, Lauren noted with mingled relief and disappointment. She had hoped to invite Steve in for a private moment, but now that wasn’t likely.
She reached for the backpack on his shoulder, suddenly aware that she probably looked like crap all wet from the rain, but Steve didn’t let it go. Instead, he looked at her, his own hair darker and plastered down from the rain.
“I had a good time tonight,” he told her. “Best time in . . . well, years.”
“Me too,” Lauren replied. She felt a shiver of fear in her stomach as a sudden mad impulse surged through her. She wanted this, wanted it so badly . . . “Steve . . .”
He moved closer under the awning, bending a little to hear her, and Lauren raised her head moving closer as well, passing that daring point of being misunderstood, looking up at Steve and hoping, hoping . . .
The press of his lips was so exquisitely soft, and Lauren shivered. The minute his mouth touched hers, she gave a sigh that mingled with his, and then the kiss melded and grew, becoming their kiss, a hungry, urgent thing, quiet but intense. She savored it, pressing against him and trying to slow the frantic beat of her heart.
They kept kissing breathlessly, nuzzling together, lost to the rain and the dark and the cold, swept up in this new paradigm. Lauren felt fire racing through her, heat flaring between them at a barely controlled level making her achy and breathless and hungry. Steve scooped her up; she felt her feet leave the ground, and Lauren clung to him, shyly parting her lips and letting her tongue touch his. He groaned in surrender, making her wriggle---
“Lauren, did you forget your k-whoa! Sorry kids, sorry . . . I’ll just . . .” came Joe’s voice as the door opened a crack and closed again.
In a rush, Lauren found herself standing again, reality slamming back in the cold, wet chill of the rainy night. She looked up at Steve, who seemed just as reluctant to let her go, and licked her lips. “Do, do you want to come in?” she asked him.
Steve shook his head, flinging raindrops as he did so. “I . . . can’t stay,” he told her gruffly, eyes never leaving hers. “Lauren . . .” but he didn’t finish whatever it was he wanted to say. He touched her cheek and turned, striding off into the downpour and she watched him go before taking a deep breath. Lauren touched her mouth, remembering Steve’s kisses, locking the sensation away before turning to the door and going inside.