"You're telling me that you got Captain America-the War Hero, Steve Rogers-to become best friends with a thirteen-year-old kid? What, is this supposed to slowly introduce him to how irritating Generation Z is? Project Training Wheels or something?"
...
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Lizzie and Steve had gotten bored of their run halfway through, ending at a steady five miles for Lizzie (who was still dying, but a little less than if she had ran three more miles). The last few weeks in D.C. have been hit or miss as far as the weather, with winter slowly coming in and temperature dropping a few degrees every day. Morning runs were a no-no anymore for Lizzie, mainly because when Steve saw her teeth chattering on the walk to National Park, he'd turned right back around and told her to get back in bed. Their runs were now "after-school" runs when she'd return from school (i.e. S.H.I.E.L.D. but Steve didn't know that).
Now, they were tossing the softball she'd packed for the day. Steve didn't have a glove, but he also barely flinched the first time Lizzie pitched to him and he caught it with his bare hand. So she decided he was okay to continue using nothing. When Lizzie had to run forward slightly so the ball fell safely in her glove, she knew that Steve was definitely not pitching with the amount of effort that he could be. She narrowed her eyes at him from across the field of grass, her gloved hand going over her eyes.
"Stooooop! You're throwing like a T-Ball team! I'm never going to be warmed up for the season if you don't actually throw, Steve!"
Steve frowned from the other side of the field. "I am throwing!"
"Maybe like you would've in the forties!" she exclaimed back.
Before Steve could reply to her, she heard her phone go off and reached into her pocket to pick it up. When she realized who the text was from, she smiled. Steve, in the process of her being distracted, decided to windup the best pitch he could—and grinned happily to himself. He made sure it was a safe distance away (possibly to just be a bit of a smart-ass for the comment about him from the forties). To his surprise, just as the ball went flying out of his palm and into the air, Lizzie dropped her phone quickly to the ground and dived for the ball.
Steve stared, perplexed. She pushed herself up off the ground, trying to rid herself of the bits of mud that were on her clothes from the rain they'd gotten yesterday morning. Then, she twisted around to grin at Steve, holding her glove out so that he could see she caught his pitch.
