Blue. Baby blue. Soft, innocent, entrancing. Damn I am a sucker for the eyes, but his eyes are just so freaking beautiful. Do I look like some flabbergasted fangirl who has just aimlessly wandered off the streets right now? I probably do. Crap, I probably look so stupid right now, but I can't help it. It's the blue.
"Ma'am," Steve amiably smiles, hand rising between us in a courteous act of introduction.
Goddamn it Lillian Veronica Nightshade, you're a trained murderer and demi-god, pull yourself together—
But they're so blue. Yet, the small, near indiscernible specks of green seem to surround the pupil. They're only noticeable up close though.
"Hi, uh hey. I'm – he just – I'm Lillian," I manage to form words, but not really a sentence. "I know Tony just said that, but uh, yeah. So, uh.... hey."
I can feel Stark's facepalm.
Steve, being the humble 40's man that he is, simply begins to heartily chuckle at my awkward stuttering. "Hey Lillian. Feel free to call me Steve instead of Cap—"
"But you can also call him Fourth of July Stripper, Independence Day Mascot, Ancient Flag, Spangles, Capsicle, Virgin of all Virgins, America's Goldenboy—"
"Thanks, Tony," Steve sarcastically intervenes, shooting the other Avenger a half-hearted, chiding expression for the onslaught of nicknames.
"It's what I'm here for Grandpa," Tony winks, yet turns the focus of the conversation back to me. Thank God I'm a tad more composed than before. "Just thought I'd introduce one of my closest companions to you while I'm here. She'll be joining SHIELD, so keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn't start any espionage wars while I'm gone—"
"I'm a twenty five year old woman Tony," I admonish him, but not as heatedly as usual due to the understandable euphoric state I'm in right now. "As nice as Mr Rogers is," Oh my Lord I just called him Mr Rogers, "I don't need a baby sitter."
"No but you do need a trainer," Tinman reminds me, staring pointedly at Steve after doing so. "And who better to train you than the world's first super hero, Captain America?"
"Exactly, he's Captain America," I justify, eyebrows higher than my hairline. "He's a busy man with more important things to do."
Tony snorts. "Yeah but he's—"
"He is standing right here," Steve politely yet amusedly reminds us, making me go bashful and Tony expectant. Steve – whom I've just realized is sweating quite profusely, considering we interrupted his work out session – plants his hands firmly on his hips, his fitted t-shirt protesting against his muscles when he does it. Yum. "And he would like to back track into the conversation a bit more. You're a friend of Tony's?"
Oh my Lord that t-shirt is leaving nothing to the imagination. I just wanna rip the shit outta that – wait was that question for me?
"Yeah, we go way back," I smoothly reply, nonchalantly stuffing my hands into my black jean pockets. "We uh, used to—"
"Go to this local bar together," Tony cuts in, saving my ass. "Her dad was the bar owner before he died in a car crash, so even though she didn't necessarily drink until the legal age, she would sit around with her sister waiting for her dad to finish up—"
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Played by the Enemy || Captain America || Book 2
Fanfiction"My hands are stained with dirt. And they always will be." ~ Lillian Nightshade; assassin, Captain America's girlfriend, and number one magnet for bullsh*t and bad luck. For her entire life, she's been told what to, who to kill, who she is, and what...
