"Hold on!" He asks vehemently.
"What do you want?" I ask, irritated. His blue eyes widen and still manage to shine in the dim moonlight, his dark, golden hair looking like a halo on his head. America's golden boy he is. He hesitates at my question, as if he doesn't even know himself.
"Why don't you come back with me? I can get you some food, a warm bed, some clean clothes?" He offers kindly. I look at him skeptically.
"Back where? Your ivory tower?" I sass. He presses his lips together before jumping over to the dumpster, making a ton of noise.
"Look, I just want to help. It doesn't matter what the press says. They get a lot wrong anyway." He shoots a smile down at me to try and win me over.
"Well, that's wonderfully patriotic of you," I hop down and start walking down the alley away from him. "but no thanks." I slip my thumbs under the straps of my backpack and clutch on. Steve Rogers appears next to me in seconds, walking with me. I create distance between us, making sure we don't touch. Before he opens his mouth, I stop us both, my temper flaring up. "Look, I have no interest in being your charity case. I don't want to be in the press, used as an example of how good the Avengers are, or any of that shit. I just want to be left alone!" I huff, pulling my backpack tighter against my back to resist punching Captain America. Steve's eyes go to my still bloody knuckles in the dim light and his eyebrows furrow even further. "Oh, dear god." I complain at seeing more concern on his face. Before he can put a gentle hand on my shoulder and give me a rousing speech about justice or something I kick him hard in the balls. As soon as he leans over I start sprinting. I reach another dumpster and jump on top of it, then leap to the nearest fire escape. Then, I'm on the roof and feel like I'm flying.
Some people've gotta learn the hard way; not everyone wants to be saved.
*I DO NOT OWN THE AVENGERS. ONLY THE CHARACTERS AND SITUATIONS I CREATE.*