Someone was trying to call him, he knew that much, but he didn't know much else. The contraption in his hand was buzzing and making noise in the quiet diner and he could do little but burn red in embarrassment as it blared. People glared as he began to push every button, shake and smack it, but nothing worked.

Captain Steve Rogers had not been adjusting quite as quickly as Commander Fury would have hoped. His little understanding of technology was a hassle, considering the world was littered with it. But in the end, the Commander knew Steve needed to find himself and adjust on his own. That was the reason for letting the young man out on his own after the battle was won and the earth saved. Conveniently, the African American man had left a motorcycle with his name on it (not literally) near where the Avengers had parted ways, and he'd taken it. The young yet old man had been all over the states- starting from New York and heading west. It'd been nearly eight months since he'd seen any of the Avengers and he was- in all honesty- happy about that fact.

Before the Super-Solider serum, he had been so consumed with being a soldier that he left little time to just be himself and after the serum… well, he was a bit busy fighting Nazis. This time around, he wasn't sure how much time he had, but by the fact he'd survived so long, it was looking like he had plenty of time to discover himself.

He was sitting quietly in a little diner in San Francisco, a city he had actually bought an apartment in (S.H.I.E.L.D had been very generous financially), the same he had been frequenting for almost three weeks, fighting a battle. It was the first he was ready to give up on when he heard a small laugh from his right. Looking over he saw a young woman, most likely in her early twenties smiling at him, her hand outstretch and eyes expectant. Sighing, he conceded, and handed her his phone. A second later the sound stopped and all was quiet.

"I'm Olivia. You looked like you needed some assistance," she smiled warmly at him, a nice change from the sensual smiles he had been on the receiving end of since waking up.

"Steve, thank you, I am hopeless with these things" they shook hands.

"No one's hopeless, just in need of some guidance" she smiled again and she looked ready to leave when he gestured for her to sit down.

He asked if she could explain how to quiet the little device, she asked about his story. They talked for a few hours before she announced she had work and he said he should be getting home anyway.

"Could you…"

"Yes Steve I can," she chuckled and he blushed.

For the next two weeks they met at the same booth in the back of O'Riley's Diner and Coffee, and so it was no surprise that they started meeting outside of the little establishment. She came to his apartment and set up his cable, he insisted she never walk home in the dark by herself.

"What are you plans for Christmas?" she asked a few weeks before the holiday.

"Nothing really, I don't have any family left, and well…" he was quiet and Olivia fidgeted nervously. They had known each other about three months now. She had found it ridiculously endearing how he knew nothing about anything modern.

She had introduced him to her grandfather and grandmother who lived down in San Jose about an hour outside the city. They had talked for hours about the forties and fifties. He was a fount of knowledge when it came to that era and it had given her a clue to what kind of conversation starters would get him going.

But, she was still nervous as all hell in that moment. Was it odd to invite a practical stranger to Christmas with their family? Her grandfather all but demanded she at least ask him (this was shocking on account that he had threatened the existence of three of her four boyfriends over the course of her life).

"I understand." She was silent again and cursed herself for chickening out.

Steve sat silently on the other side of their booth. She looked pensive and almost manic. He felt his heart accelerate. He had never seen her nervous before. Sure she wrung her hands every now and again, or bit her lip or inside of her cheek, but he had never notice her hands shake or her eyes dart about so apprehensively.

"Don't you have to head to work?" he asked gingerly. Her reaction would have been comical if he wasn't so worried about her. She had snapped her head in his direction, eyes slightly wide as she looked at him.

"Yeah, I guess I do," she didn't move.

"Olivia are you…"

"Will you come down to have Christmas with me and my family?" it came out in a rush and she cringed at the absurdity of it all.

Steve's brows furrowed as he slowly got a hold on what she was saying. He looked at her as she bit her lip nervously. It clicked in his brain that this was why she had been fidgeting all morning- though he wasn't sure he knew why.

"I… well golly" (she smiled almost feverishly at his terminology) "I mean… i-if you're sure. I don't want to put anybody out…"

"Trust me you won't. And grandpa practically demanded it anyway." She relaxed as she saw his face slowly light up at the mention of her granddad. They were quite the duo when put together.

"Then I would be… I would be honored to spend Christmas with you and your family," Olivia smiled and sighed releasing the built up tension. She chuckled softly too, he always reverted back to such formality with personal things.

Christmas went off without a hitch. Everyone loved him and found him endearing for his complete lack of tech skills. He was a perfect gentleman and demanded he get the couch even after her mother practically ordered Uncle Tommy to let the 'poor gentleman from San Francisco' have the spare bedroom.

Steve felt his chest tighten as he watched the Grayson family laugh and tease one another. There was a plethora of people from both sides and most seemed to mesh well. Aunts and uncles, cousins and grandparents, they all sat together at the extended table, throwing food about onto plates and laughing manically at one another. Steve felt out of place, but oddly happy.

He looked down when he felt Olivia, who was seated next to him, had grasped his hand and gave it a small squeeze of reassurance. He followed the path of her arm up to the side of her face and found her in conversation with a gossipy Aunt across the table. She smiled and laughed, but her hand stayed in his and he couldn't quite bring himself to mind.

Olivia's mother had given him a rather extravagant kiss on the cheek and tight hug before he and her daughter left. Her father was smiling broadly, commenting on the well done job the soldier did on the car engine he had helped the man repair a few days prior.

Aunts and uncles came by, hugging them and wishing them goodbye, and 'not to be a stranger and get their favorite (niece, aunt, daughter, granddaughter) down there more often.'

When they got back to San Francisco, Steve found himself spending even more time with the brunette. She juggled her two odd jobs while going to school nearly full time, and somehow, still managed to nag Steve about applying for an art school."You understand you are in one of the most inspired artistic cities in America correct?" She would say, but Steve always brushed it off.

Finally, after almost a month of off handed comments and direct interrogation, she walked, (swaggered really) into the little diner late one cloudy Tuesday afternoon.

Steve spotted the manila folder clutched possessively in her grip as she approached their regular haunt in the back, eyeing the parcel suspiciously. She came right up to her side of the seat, but instead of sitting down, she stilled, and looked down at him with a certain gleam in her eye.

Steve almost jumped when she slammed the folder down on the table top before plopping down in her seat.

"I actually don't have time for anything more than this delivery. I am picking up Sandy's shift today, and I can't be late. But I was hoping to lure you here. Riley says he won't let you leave until you at least look it all over," she smiled smugly before scooting out of the booth, and practically ran out the door, yelling her encouragement mixed with a farewell as she went.

Steve looked down at the envelope and cautiously slipped it open, sliding out the contents.

Six letters were inside. Each one of them held the same key phrase, wording varying here and there.

"Congratulations you've been accepted to…"

"Get ready to start your artistic journey at our University…"

"It's time to live your passion, and we are excited to help you get there…"

Silence and stillness overcame the back corner of the establishment. The only movement in the vicinity was Riley, the store's owner, drying a glass cautiously while watching his most loyal customer.

Steve sat speechless as he looked over the acceptance letters a dozen more times. There was no explanation for how this happened other than a five foot eight little brunette who had just swaggered out of the restaurant like she owned the place.

Olivia opened the door when she heard the light, but insistent knock on the wooden surface. She approached it almost affrightedly manor. She knew exactly who was on the other side of that door, and she wasn't sure what he was going to be like. She had never seen Steve mad, not once, he was a gentle giant as it were, but she knew how personal things like that could be- if anyone sent out her poems to anyone, no matter the reason, she would be livid. But Steve had real talent, and he seemed to be stuck in a rut that she knew he needed a little push to get out.

The pounding intensified, and she cringed when his disposition was reveled. She sighed, straightened herself and walked cautiously towards the door.

She swung it open while sucking in a breath.

"Look I know you're mad but-" she felt herself thrown into the ground before she could complete her sentence, and looked up shocked. But instead of the bright blue eyes she was expecting, she was met with the manic gleam of nearly black instead. She cursed herself for not checking the peep hole before opening the door- her neighbor hood looked about right for a struggling college student.

She fought and kick, screaming her head off for help, her door was stuck open, but had swung back to close mostly with the force of the intruders entrance. She hoped someone heard her screams, and again found herself cursing her own stupidity as she felt his grubby hands pull at her clothes.

Steve practically broke the hospital door down when he reached the tall, free standing building. His eyes were wild as he looked around for some sort of grounding influence. He spotted a nurses station, and made his across the lobby to the front in a few strides.

"I am looking for Olivia Grayson, admitted about twenty minutes ago," his voice came out in a firm and unyielding kind of tone. The same tone he used when commanding his platoon during the war. There was no room for argument and certainly no room for delay.

The middle aged woman practically trembled at his imposing form, but managed to stutter out a room number and directions to said room. The soldier thanked her promptly and disappeared around the corner headed for room 239.

Olivia sat on the side of the hospital bed and sighed deeply. Her hands played with the locket that sat around her neck as she stared off into space. She replayed the scene over and over and couldn't quite comprehend what had happened.

Her friendly (somewhat overly friendly) neighbor had heard her yelling, and came running out of his apartment, baseball bat in hand. The perp hadn't gotten too far along with her, just a couple punches here and there to try and keep her quiet. A few bruised ribs, a nasty black eye, split lip, and ripped night shirt were what she had to show for her evening.

"Visiting hours are-"

"Sir, I don't want to be rude, but I don't particularly care for your system of visiting hours," the voice was familiar, and Olivia's eyes widened considerably when it registered.

"You can come back in the morning and-"

"How about I just go in now," before the doctor could get in another word, the hospital door opened and Steve came barreling through.

He was in front of her in seconds, his hands on her arms, face, neck, waist. He took note of every bruise and every scratch, searching for any serious damage.

"Olivia, what in the world happened? Your grandfather calls to tell me you've been attacked in your apartment, and that he can't make it up for an hour so could I 'please get there and keep an eye on her'?" his voice was erratic as he looked her over and he felt heat rush through his veins at the sight of her blackened eye and bloodied lip.

"Steve…"

"I was furious with you today did you know that? You had no right to send those pictures to anyone. I gave them to you, for your eyes only, and you send them off to… but then, I hear the one night the one night I don't walk you home, or call to make sure you made it okay and someone comes and does this to you…" his voice was nearly shaking and she felt his hands tremble, whether from rage or concern, she wasn't sure.

His hands had yet to leave the sides of her face, eyes locked on to hers. Olivia slowly smiled the best she could with her swollen bottom lip, and raised her hands to wrap around his massive wrists.

"Steve," her voice was calming and smooth, brown eyes staring straight into his blue. "I'm fine. A couple of bruised ribs, a busted lip and black eye." She was trying to calm him down. When she saw his face contort even more at the mention of injuries he couldn't see, she backtracked instantly. "You should see the other guy," she cracked a smile but regretted it almost instantly. She gave herself a mental pat on the back when she kept a straight face.

His expression hardened and his hands dropped from her face as only to ball into fists.

"Where is he?" his voice was deadly and the brunette almost shivered at the tone.

"My neighbor beat him pretty bad with a bat. He is in the E.R. downstairs before they move him to holding," she shouldn't have said a word and she knew it. Before she could get a word in edge wise, he was out the door. Brown eyes widened in fear and shock, but it didn't deter her from stumbling out of the room after him.

She caught him at the stairs- bastard wouldn't even wait for the elevator.

"Steve!" her voice was rough as she tumbled over the dressing gown, clutching the wall for support. He didn't even look back at her. He was down the stairs before she could say anything else.

Olivia waited impatiently for the elevator a moment later, slamming her palm into the button repeatedly, eyes glazed with worry. Steve never seemed a violent man; in fact, he was the most tentative man she knew. He was a bit awkward and aloof maybe, but never violent, not unless called for. He never seemed the kind to be easily provoked, but Olivia knew that he held justice very high. He told her with such passion once, 'I don't like bullies.'

She stiffened as she thought about the raw strength he had. She knew he spent a lot of time at an old fashion gym a few blocks from the café; he certainly had the muscle to prove it. She shutter at the thought of all that power being directed into the already pretty beat up guy sitting downstairs. Sure, she would like to give him a fist to the face, but Steve didn't seem the type to stop once he started something like this. She shivered when she recalled his angry blue eyes from a second ago.

She begged the elevator to come faster.

When she made it out the sliding doors, three security guards were attempting to pull him off the bloodied mess beneath his kneeling form.

Chaos was pungent in the air- as was the smell of blood. She rushed forward, bypassing the scared and exasperated guards as she did so.

Steve's arm stretched back behind his head, ready to slam it back down into the bashed in face underneath him when gentle hands caught his in a vice grip. Her face appeared in front of him, her brown eyes wide and worried.

"Steve," her voice was calm, and he tried to focus on it. He stared at her long and hard, eyes staring at him attentively, hands steady on his bleeding fist. "Let him go Steve, he's not worth it, let it go," two things registered in his mind that he hadn't even noticed.

The first being that his left hand was knotted in the fabric of the criminal's shirt and the second was that his hand was in fact bleeding. He looked confused and awed for a moment when he saw his paw sized hand cupped in her comparatively small ones.

She told him once she played piano and he wondered if that was because her fingers were so long. They seemed insistent that he let go of the man's shirt before releasing him from the grip. The guards intervened then, pulling him up and away from his little brunette, one man coming to gently guide her away as well.

His blue eyes never left her form though. Even as they put him in cuffs and scurried along with him out the door to the police station. His eyes didn't leave hers until he couldn't physically see her anymore.

The chargers were drop, she got new locks and Steve walked her home every night. He learned how to use a phone for the sole purpose of calling her- just in case.

She rolled her eyes and endured it. Her grandfather was comfortable with her living alone when she told him of Steve's fierce over protectiveness. He dubbed the man a keeper, told her to adhere to all his over protectiveness and left for home a couple hours later.

He was strict, but his gentleness never wavered when it came to her. He glared at people who even looked at her 'wrong' and she simply rolled her eyes, apologized on his behalf, and lived her life.

He did end up going to one of the art schools she had applied to for him. Whenever he had the gall to get angry about it (though she begrudgingly knew he had reason) she brought up his three days in jail for what could have been an aggravated assault charge.

He secretly loved school and she knew it and he knew that she knew it. They never talked about it, though he did regale her with tales of out there teachers and odd fellow students. He would say he felt old being there, she told him he was young and shouldn't worry about it.

Steve felt happy today. Olivia had been insistent that he needed more than the preset sparse furniture in his living space. He told her he didn't particularly like the style these days. He had watched as she smiled, called it an easy fix, and dragged him out his apartment door.

They were at a little shop filled with ancient and more ancient furniture and nit-knacks. To Steve, the place was perfect. He recognized almost everything in the store and named it (along with a brief run down on how to use it all) to Olivia. She smiled broadly. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning.

"What about this?" she pointed out a forties styled cabinet with oak. Steve meandered away from an old telephone he had been eyeing and came to look at the piece she was seemingly mesmerized by.

"My mom had one just l-" glass shattered at the sound of an explosion just outside the shop. Steve reacted instantly, wrapping his body around her frame and turning her away from the spray of sharp glass that shot at them like small bullets. The ground rocked from the impact of whatever it was that caused the explosion in the first place.

They were thrown to the ground a second later after another explosion rocked the area. Steve was up with her in a second. His eyes roved over her form to take in any injuries. The only thing noticeable was a cut about her left eye, but she seemed unaffected by it as she searched for the kind elderly shop owner.

"Dan?" she called as she left Steve's hold. Another explosion had his thick arms wrapped firmly around her waist a second later. He was hauling her out the back door, or at least attempting too.

"Let's get Dan out first! Steve!" she was worried about the shop owner and in some regard, the super solider was too. But this was different from regular combat.

Olivia was there. His Olivia was there and she had been through enough over the past couple of months, and he would be damned before he let her get hurt again.

Steve planted her firmly outside, pressing her to the wall of the building as the sky flashed white. His grip was protective as people ran past the alley way entrance screaming and flailing. Steve's eyes averted upwards and his enhanced senses took in the ship hovering over central San Francisco. He recognized the insignia instantly. His blood nearly froze in his veins. Hydra was back.

"Steve-"

"You will go back in, look for a basement, and stay put. Don't go outside, don't stay by windows, and don't call attention to yourself. Do you understand?" his voice was a rush, frighteningly stern and all the brunette could do was stare at him, matching eyes bugging out minutely at his change in tone.

"Why do I get the feeling you won't be down there with me?" she was worried. She could count the number of times on one hand that she was actually, full bodily worried about something. With the explosions and the screaming and smoke, it was rather obvious this was one of those times.

"I won't, I have to help. Stay inside, and don't you dare leave," his hands gripped her shoulders tightly before releasing her and ushering her back into the old shop.

He turned to go when she sprung into action. "Steve!" She jumped out after him, her brain finally kicking back into gear.

"There's nothing you can do! Let the Avengers handle this," her voice had finally found the steel that she found herself lacking in most situations. But this was different, this man could easily be killed, most likely would be killed, if he gallivanted off into the smoke.

He smiled knowingly at her, his face holding something akin to regret. Then his face changed, and Olivia could see the internal debate running through his mind. Her arms had wound themselves around her torso, but her eyes never left his face as he seemed to reach a decision.

He refocused on her form and in two quick strides he closed the small distance he had put between them. When he reached for her arm, pulling it away from herself, his grip on her wrist gave a tug. She moved forward willingly as he released her and both hands captured her face. A second later his lips molded over hers, sucking any bit of oxygen out of her lungs she was going to use to yell at him with.

Steve slammed his eyes shut as he felt her stiffen under his demanding mouth before she seemed to fold herself into him. He felt her little hands on his arm, reassuring him as she applied the smallest pressure back, tilting her head so they both had a better angle.

He had never kissed anyone other than Peggy, only hours before he brought that hydra plane down. That had been his first kiss and what he had mentally always assumed to be his last. Sure, he was a red blooded male, he knew what the urges looked like, knew what he craved from a dame, but he was always much more aware and in control of his faculties to hold himself back from it all.

But in that moment, his fierce little brunette, staring at him with steel rimmed brown eyes, straight spine, and hard voice, he knew exactly what he wanted to do. And this time, he didn't delude himself, and he certainly didn't hold himself back.

He released her at the sound of an explosion off in the distance, his mind returning to the issue at hand.

"I will come back for you. But you have to stay hidden," his voice was much gentler this time around and she couldn't help but nod. Olivia swallowed the lump in her throat, lips slightly swollen as she looked to him.

Before another word could be said, the sound of what seemed to be an engine turbine was approaching. The woman stiffened and looked over her counterparts shoulder to see what was coming. Steve simply put his eyes to the sky, steeling himself, before turning around to face the music.

Or in this case, Tony Stark.

"Cap, long time no see," Iron Man landed a few feet from the couple, face hidden behind his mask, but the soldier could hear the amusement in his voice.

"Tony. I assume you brought my uniform," his blue eyes stared at the face plate, body moving subconsciously in front of his companion.

"I did. I was going to ask if you need help but I see you've got it covered. Or well, uncovered," Olivia's forehead wrinkled in complete confusion. Why did Steve know Ironman aka Tony Stark? Why would he bring him a uniform in the middle of a battle? Why did he call him cap…

"You know, you could have mentioned you had a side job when we met," she blurted it out so suddenly, Steve almost jumped. He turned back to her to find her face a mix of amusement and incredulousness.

"I… well I mean…"

"Steve, I'm kidding," she was gentle as she smiled at him, traces of shock still clear on her features. "It explains a lot actually. I don't believe I have ever been so blindingly stupid for not putting it together sooner. No one gets along with my grandfather," her voice was clear, as were her eyes as she took a small step back from him. "I'll let the professionals handle this then," again, her voice was laced with an amused quality Steve found himself enjoying more than he should.

She smiled one more time, looked to Ironman, nodding her head, him doing the same in return, and walked inside the messy antique shop.

"Cap I…"

"Not a word Stark,"

From all he learned of her over the months they had known each other, it wasn't all that surprising when she completely disregarded him and helped evacuate the store they had been antiquing in. Then proceeded to help those injured to a nearby hospital.

It was rather shocking for her to find out she had been helping Captain America hook up his cable not a year before. It was even more surprising when Ironman came up and hugged her saying that the man needed a woman, and she was certainly hot enough.

Things settled after that, she and Steve fell into a comfortable routine.

He sat in their normal booth, fidgeting like a manic with a heart condition. They had been seeing one another romantically for months now. She had asked him to tell her about his time in the fourties, if he didn't mind.

It took a while but he finally got around to telling her about the time he grew up in. It was hard, trying to make her understand that he missed them, but he really was happy now. He was worried she would think he was just using her as a place holder, that he didn't actually love her. Steve froze at that moment, the words running through his mind.

He loved her. He really honestly did. He wasn't entirely sure how he was suppose to feel about that, how he was suppose to handle it. He figured she would never know about that side of him, his heroic and ancient part, but she had seen it, faced it, and seemed to accept it fully. He had taken on a few missions as time went on, leaving for a few weeks to help S.H.I.E.L.D take down Hydra locations and people in the new forming organization. He had been gone nearly three weeks (the longest he had been away from his little brunette for since they met almost two and a half years ago) and it knocked some sense into him.

When he finished his latest mission he called her father and asked permission, called her grandfather and asked permission, and then he did the hardest thing he had done since waking up.

He went to see Peggy.

The headstone was a lovely pure white, marble surface with elegant engravings on it. He stood there in his old leather jacket, bouquet of flowers in his hand looking down at the words.

Beloved Wife and Mother

He knew she had married, had read it in a file after he had woken up, but to see it up close was another thing entirely. He thought he would explode when he read it, thought that he would feel his heart rip out of his chest. That was why he never went to see her.

But as he stood there, he felt nothing of the sort. She was his first love, his heart would always give a small tug when he was thinking about her, when he saw her picture, but as he stood there, a small sad smile came over his face. She had been happy by all accounts. People commented that she missed him, but she had found someone to repair her heart and now Steve had found the same.

He knelt down, reaching out his hand to lay the flowers gently there in front of the grave. He continued to crouch there for a moment his hands laced together under his chin. He closed his eye for a moment and let himself think of a life with her, in his own time, in his own version of America. New York and Brooklyn were just how he left them, the city never changing.

It was beautiful. Their children had her hair and his eyes, his strength and her excellent mind. Their home was cute, just outside the city with a white picket fence and a flower garden. Howard and he stayed friends and when Howard passed away he took Tony under his wing, making the man a solid and good one instead of what he had become. He thought of all the good he could have done if he had just of been there. But as he let out a breath, his mind was nagging him that something was missing, something didn't feel right.

His eyes opened and he smiled once more, placing exactly what or who was missing. "Goodbye Peggy," his voice was soft with reverence and slight longing. But as he stood and turn to leave he didn't look back.

So he sat there, in a little diner smack in down town San Francisco, velvet box in his pocket waiting for someone he hadn't even been looking for.

Fin.