My Neighbor, Mr. Rogers

Chapter Nineteen - Cookies ≠ Tears

"Steeeeeeve!" I knock soundly on his door. He's been gone off and on for the last two months on the occasional mission for SHIELD, but mostly looking for Bucky. The last time he was gone for over a week. "I know you're back. I can hear your old people music," I call through his door.

Nothing.

"It's important! I know I said that I would try to get the next one but I swear this one is a science experiment gone wrong or something! It's like if Shelob and Aragog decided to get together and make a giant, terrifying, demon spawn! It was too big for a mug, I had to put a flipping bowl over it and, Steve- I'm not making this up, okay?- but I swear, it moved the bowl! And have I mentioned how creepy its eyes are? I mean, why do spiders have to have so many eyes? What could they possibly need to see so well that two eyes just won't cut it? Same question for their legs; why so many? Answer: they are nightmares incarnate – spending their days watching you from the shadows, picking up every detail of your life, waiting until you fall asleep and then latching onto your face with all of those legs to suck out your juices through your eyeballs!"

I pause to pant.

"Steeeeve! I mean it, I can't go back to my apartment with that, that fell beast waiting for me– great term, by the way. Both perfectly descriptive enough to be threatening while also being perfectly vague enough to be ominous! –Besides, you owe me! I introduced you to 'The Lord of the Rings'; remember? And even if you try to hide it, I know you're totally a closet fangirl! Plea-" My ranting is cut short by his door swinging open.

"Finally! Steve- ...you're not Steve."

The man in front of me merely stands there, silent and unmoving. His dark hair is pulled back into a short ponytail and his icy blue eyes stare unflinchingly into my own. Surprisingly, he's nearly on par with Steve as far as the "hulking mass of muscled man" thing goes; almost as tall and just a bit leaner. Friend from work, maybe?

'Steve also mentioned a friend outside of SHIELD, is this him?'

His black tshirt and dark wash jeans are well fitted and add to his intimidation factor. The door is only open halfway, his right hand holding it steady while the left half of his body remains behind the wall; like he can't be bothered to exert the energy it would take to swing the door open the rest of the way.

I am uncomfortable.

"Um, is Steve home?" My voice is about 87% less confident than it was ten seconds ago.

He still stands there. The only noise is my still slightly panting breathing.

"D-do you know when he'll be back?" I'm almost positive that my voice has all the timidity of a church mouse.

He's so still, I'm not even sure he's breathing. I'd be tempted to think he's some sort of advanced, full sized puppet but his eyes, while just as still as the rest of him, are too electrifying to be glass.

'Why is he being so quiet? Is this normal? Is he an avox? Does he have a tongue? Don't think about his tongue. Why are you thinking about his tongue? Ew.'

"Okay. Well..." I'm so uncomfortable that I'm pretty sure my skin has crawled down the three flights of stairs and made it a few blocks down the street by now. I literally cannot break eye contact. It's the same feeling I'd imagine having whilst staring down a wolf in some frozen forest.

'Look away and he'll pounce. Or shut the door in your face.'

It isn't even that he's directly menacing. I don't think he's trying to freak me out. I don't think he'd hurt me. Besides, if he's a friend of Steve's then he must be a decent guy. It's just, I don't know, something about expecting my best friend only to be met by a cold stranger is severely upsetting for me. Although, he does seem familiar the more I look at him. And it's like I can feel some serious power behind his statuesque exterior.