"IT'S SIMPLE really, just grip it here. Yeah, just like that, good job. Then, you thrust your arm, a little harder, perfect!" Uncle Steve instructs me, his Captain America shield in my hand.
He's teaching me how to throw his weapon. I feel very honored to even be holding this very historic object.
I do as he told me, throwing the shield almost perfectly. It wobbles quite a bit, bouncing off the wall and clattering on the ground.
"It does take some getting used to, but you'll get it. Go retrieve the shield, and try again." He pushes me to go complete the task.
I grasp the patriotic shield in my hands, and fling it in the direction of my uncle.
It nearly made it to him, if you count almost slicing his head off as 'nearly made it.'
"Hey, watch where you throw that thing!" Steve exclaims, ducking quickly before getting hit in the head.
"Shoot, sorry!" I shout, jogging back over to him.
He gives me a stern look. "Watch your language." I wave him off, sliding the shield's grips on my arm.
"So, how do I aim with this thing?"
"It's all about the way you tilt it. Too far left, it will fling really sharp to the left. It's very sensitive, that's why you line your arm to where you want it to go exactly."
I give it another go, finally making it to where I was aiming.
"I did it!"
"Yeah you did, Kiddo! Good job!" He gives me a quick side hug. The sound of awing directs our attention to the source. Natasha Romanoff stands there, leaning on the door with a smile evident on her beautiful face.
"Look at what the tide washed in!" I reference a line from a movie Wanda made me watch.
"I see you're teaching her how to throw your shield, Cap."
"That I am, she's getting pretty good at it too." I beam up at the righteous uncle.
He ruffles my hair, as Nat continues. "Maybe since we're teaching Sweets here how to do some of our stuff, I can teach her mine?" She suggests.
"You are not teaching her how to get a man between her legs!"
"Uncle Steve!"
"That's not what I meant!" He regrets his choice of words instantly. He puts his head down muttering, "don't tell your father I said that in front of you."
"What he meant," Nat redirects. "Is that I would teach you how to do a form of fighting, which I'm not. I was going to teach you ballet."
"You know ballet?"
"Yep, and I'm going to teach you!" She pops the 'p' at the end of yep.
"Cool!"
She hands me a leotard and a long silk skirt. I quickly change in the bathroom, and when I come out I see the room change into a ballet studio.
Bars and mirrors line the large room. I smile at how fulfilling it feels to be in a room like this.
"Okay, we'll start off by doing something real simple."
She teaches me many "real simple" things. They weren't simple, quite opposite of that actually.
We practice until my feet are raw, but I don't mind. It's fun.
Uncle Stevie comes back into the room, pauses as he sees us. "Should I just go?"
"No, you should join!"
"That's not happening."
"Oh come on, Uncle Steve. It will be fun, I promise." I persuade him. He gives in after I give him wide puppy eyes.
"Fine." He gruffs out, and Nat hands him his attire. He groans at how tiny it is. "Do I have to wear this?"
"Absolutely!" Natasha answers him, pushing him towards the bathroom.
Minutes later he reappeares, and we burst into fits of laughter. I end up on the floor, laughing the hardest I have in a while.
"Shut up," he mutters. Steven Grant Rogers other known as Captain America currently is wearing tights that go up to his mid chest, nothing covering his very top half. He looks ridiculous in those tight tights. (A/N I hope this is not offensive, just imagine Captain freaking America in ballet tights, sorry if it is offensive)
"You look lovely!" I jest to him.
"Just teach me some ballet."
Author's Note: I can't psychically combust from laughter....
- J.S.
11.28.2020
723 words