#Ai could never replicate this kind of visceral art

[sadie-shrimp]

I like this genre of comic

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Canadian Girl

Chapter One

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC | Word Count: 1920 | Warnings: stereotyping of Canadians (I'm allowed, I am one)

Had Kennedy Jones know three years ago just who it was she was interviewing with, she would have run hard and fast for the hills. As it was, when the headhunters came knocking, asking about her research into genetics and cellular regeneration, chemical compound deconstruction, and microbiology, advising her their client was willing to offer her a very lucrative, and progressive career, she’d still done her due diligence. She just hadn’t delved deep enough, however, to realize she’d been hired by none other than Tony Stark. Not until she’d arrived for orientation on her first day to find herself at the foot of Stark tower.

Now, there was nothing really wrong with working for Stark. Not unless she counted Hydra, aliens, Asgardians, and insane robots which try to take over the world. Sure her lab was state of the art. Sure almost no one ventured down there. They left her alone to work and do her thing. Sure she spent the day doing the fun stuff she loved, but still, there was a very real chance at some point in the future, she’d be shot at.

Kennedy disliked guns. It wasn’t because she was unused to them. She’d grown up around weapons, could fire a rifle with relative ease, she just didn’t like to. Bad things had a habit of happening when she did. Hunting had never appealed to her, and when her family used to make their annual hunting trips, she’d go along to horseback ride and relax. She could enjoy the beautiful scenery but avoided the hunting.

She still couldn’t quite believe she’d left her ranch life in Alberta, Canada to move to New York City and work for freaking Iron Man. It seemed foolish at times, this move. She’d had a good job. But, when the opportunity to study the super soldier serum was waved beneath her nose, she’d jumped at the chance.

The serum was a mystery no one could crack. If she could, she knew there was a world of good which could be learned from it. She didn’t have any desire to replicate what had been done to Captain Rogers or Sergeant Barnes. As far as she was concerned, they’d gotten lucky, very lucky, with the two who’d been on the receiving end of the serum. Both had turned out to be good men, not that she knew them personally. But the applications the secrets of the serum could offer people with tissue wasting, or muscle degeneration, were endless.

Now, three years in, she was making progress on her groundbreaking research. Slow progress, but progress nonetheless. And, working for the Iron Man had given her props with her nephews. They both thought she was super awesome Aunt Kenny who worked with the Avengers.

She’d never had the heart to tell them she hadn’t met an Avenger, likely never would. She may work for a division of Stark Enterprises, but it didn’t mean she’d actually met Tony Stark. He was a busy man, hence the headhunters. Maybe someday if she had a particularly stellar breakthrough, but not yet.

She was okay with it. The man made her nervous.

Shoving the distracting thoughts aside, Kennedy peered down at the notebook she was carrying, tapping her pen against it. She lived in an apartment off Central Park, barely a stone’s throw from the Tower. It was one of the perks of her position, but she wasn’t foolish enough not to realize what her place likely cost on average per month. Still, it kept her close to work, and she got a little exercise every day walking through the beautiful green space.

Today, however, she’d had a revelation on her walk - an idea about the genetic sequencing she’d been fighting with. Walking through the doors to Stark Tower, she gave a distracted nod to the security guard who greeted her.

Pacing toward the elevators, Kennedy tapped the end of her pen against her cheek. Her messenger bag bumped merrily against her hip, and she hummed softly, seeking the answer which seemed to be just out of reach. When the elevator doors opened, she made to step inside, only to nearly walk into someone.

“Oh, sorry. My bad,” she said, sidestepping the wall in front of her, not bothering to look up from her notebook.

“No harm done.”

Nodding, she smiled absently. “Have a nice day.”

“You as well.”

The doors closed on the woman, and Steve Rogers lost sight of her. He’d seen her around before. It wasn’t like she was hard to miss. The woman was stunning and drew eyes like honey drew bees. He, however, rarely had a chance to speak to her.

The smoky voice which tumbled from between lush, pink lips caused a certain portion of his anatomy to react with vigour. Hair of strawberry blond coloured silk fell to her shoulders, and eyes of glimmering emerald green were framed by dusky lashes. Freckles dusted across her nose, out over the sharp cheekbones of her fox-shaped face.

Of average height, pushing five nine, Steve had noticed she rarely wore heels. She came to work every day in some kind of runner or, during the winter months, kneehigh boots which she tucked her jeans into. She seemed to own a variety of shoes which she changed with her mood. And those jeans covered a body he couldn’t help but be attracted to.

Everything curved.

Hips, breasts, ass, thighs. She was possibly the sexiest woman he’d ever seen. Yet, she appeared completely oblivious to the fact. The men around her drooled and panted behind her, but she seemed never to notice. Hell, she’d walked past him without even looking up to see who she’d nearly run into. Just kept her face tucked in her notebook, smiled and apologized.

It was, frustratingly enough, the sixth time in half as many weeks she’d almost walked into him. It was always the same. An apology spilled from her lips followed by "have a nice day," like she was some kind of department store clerk.

It was driving him a bit nutty.

The first three times had been accidents, but the latter three… he’d set her up to see if she’d actually look up and talk to him. Doctor Kennedy Jones, research phenome and genius in her field. The woman working to unlock the super soldier serum. Who wrote papers on things he had no hope of understanding, but spoke passionately about using what she could learn from the serum to help others.

She did things to him on a visceral level.

Suddenly, the doors slid back open, and he blinked to see her standing, still, in the elevator. Book in hand and pen clenched between her teeth. An adorable furrow between her brows.

Steve bit back a chuckle. It was as if someone was offering him a second chance to try again. He wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Stepping back on the elevator, he said, “You might want to press a button, Doc. You’re not going to get to your lab hanging out in the elevator all day.”

“Hm? Oh, right. Sorry.�� She glanced up far enough to press the button for seven before looking back to her book.

It made him want to steal it from her fingers just to get a reaction. Instead, he asked, “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

The notebook hit the floor, somehow managing to remain open to the correct page as she reached for her hair. Twisting it into a knot, she jammed her pen into the mass.

Steve lost his train of thought. There was a tattoo of some kind behind her ear, but he couldn’t make it out. He shook his head to clear it. “Say sorry all the time.” She did it a lot.

Crouching to pick her book back up, Kennedy chuckled. “I’m Canadian.”

The doors opened on her floor, and Steve followed her out.

She said it like being Canadian would explain everything, but he didn’t get it. Apparently, it was another of those references. The ones everyone but he and Bucky understood.

He’d never had a chance to run with the Canadians during the war, but Pinky and Falsworth did. They’d always had good things to say about them. The Canadians were people who could be counted on to have their back. Even reading about the rest of the war, how it went down after he’d gone under the ice, there was mention made of Canadian troops who’d done things no others had been able to.

“Canadian? What’s that got to do with it?” he asked, following her down the hall.

She stopped walking abruptly, looking up at him – finally – but she looked nearly as confused as he felt.

“Stereotypically, Canadians are typecast as the peacemakers. We have a reputation for being polite. Sorry is something which gets used with frequency when you’re around us.”

“Ah. Alright then.” Steve smiled and nodded, intrigued for she still looked completely puzzled.

Her eyes were narrowed on his face, assessing, but clarity never came.

Then it dawned on him.

She didn’t recognize him.

How in the hell was that even possible?

“Yes, well, sorry. I have work to get to.” Kennedy nodded, turning back to her notebook, striding quickly down the hall.

Her pupils had dilated, and her heart rate had spiked.

Intrigued, Steve continued to follow her. She was finally speaking with him. He wasn’t about to let her rush off when such an interesting blush had come to her face. “What are you working on?”

“Genetic deconstruction and resequencing. Something's fudged up with my theory. It’s not working out the way it should be,” she said, darting a glance his way.

“Fudged up?” he chuckled, all the more interested.

“I grew up in a household where more… colourful words were kept for really important situations. Like when Matt accidentally shot dad with the pellet gun in the backside. Dad swore a blue streak so foul I learned a bunch of new curse words that day. I was seven. Mom was highly unimpressed, and Matt got his butt whooped. Dad said if he couldn’t sit down, neither would Matt.” Her teeth clicked shut, another blush filling her cheeks when she realized she was babbling.

Beautiful, brilliant, and adorable. Steve was halfway in love with her already. “Matt’s your brother?”

“One of three,” she stated. Arriving at the door to her lab, she placed her palm on the plate beside it, was greeted by the lab’s AI, and pushed the door open. “Sorry, authorized personnel only from here.”

Steve smiled a rather broad grin, looking through the glass at the host of equipment he knew nothing about. Taking a step back, he gazed down at her emerald eyes and felt a little clutch around his heart. Damn, she was pretty.

“It was nice talking to you, Doc. I’ll see you around and, hey, if you can’t get your problem worked out, let me know. I know a guy who might be able to help.” Bruce may be able to assist, but he really had no idea. Banner might know absolutely nothing about whatever her issue was.

“Yeah, sure. Ok. Thanks. Bye.” She darted through the opening, letting the door swing shut behind her, heading for the coat hooks on the wall near her desk.

Her movements were quick, a little spooked, and Steve chuckled as he walked away, nodding to another employee when they called him Captain and wished him good morning.

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