" so many assume. so little know "
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in which a bad mouthed agent is assigned to help the walking talking patriarchal symbol of what is right and what is wrong. and in the process of it all, learns how much she needed the desk duty
BOOK ONE | St...
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WASHINGTON D.C. america
____________________________
CORTEZ
I DIDN'T see Steve Rogers till the next day. I spent the rest of the day in a tired daze of snacking on chips and cuddling Whiskey; while smoking at least half a gram of old pot that my neighbor sold to me a month ago.
I think I passed out after midnight, and woke to the most annoying and obnoxious knocking on my door. Whiskey clearly didn't like it as she spent the few minutes I stumbled out of bed meowing in complaint.
"I know, Whiskey. Should I grab my gun to scare them away?" I asked the cat. It was a shame I couldn't get a response.
When I heard the loud knocking again I groaned loudly and yelled, "I'm coming, I'm coming."
My eyes narrowed when I finally arrived to the door of my apartment and pulled it open, only to see Steve.
"What do you want?"
"I don't exactly have a way to get to SHIELD."
"What time is it?" I asked and rubbed my tired eyes.
"Seven."
"AM? Jesus Christ." I said. "Why are you up so early?
"I slept for seventy years, Cortez. I'm not really tired."
I sighed. "I'm still mad at you. But you can come in. I'll talk you to the agency."
Steve smiled softly and walked into my apartment and I shut the door behind him. "What's that smell?"
"Uh." I hesitated; what would America's Golden boy think about his babysitter doing drugs? "It's just some weed. Needed to let off some stress from Boston and everything."
"What?"
I shook my head. "Nothing. I'm going to get dressed. I'll be right back."
Steve was left alone in the living room while I went to my room.
"Whiskey, intruder alert. Intruder alert. And it's seven in the morning. I should have stayed in bed." I told the cat as I locked the door. She meowed and I crossed the room to rub behind her ears. "I think I'll just stay in here for the rest of my life. But we'd starve."
She meowed again.
"Alright, alright, I get it." I said and stood up. "Be a nice person. Help Steve out. Be a nice person, Stacy. I get it, Whiskey. Don't give me that look." I said.
I quickly grabbed a pair of black pants, the same style I often wore to work, along with a loose shirt and my jacket. I wasn't entirely sure what this day would bring, what with my new assignment and everything. I didn't even know if going to the agency was worth the effort. I'm supposed to be introducing him to the world around us, how was I to do that behind a desk?
