#its just me projecting my anxiety into steve for like. two thousand words with a dose of steddie mixed in

[milf-harrington]

i am going to finish and post this fic tonight i am going to finish and post this fic tonight i am going to finish and post thi

[captainjimothycarter]

Drabble idea: Steve and Peggy meet each other when they get assigned as lab partners in college.

So I uh never did something in college or HS that needed lab partners sooo this might be lacking. This might not be what you expected.

--

“You like him,” Angie giggled behind her blueberry muffin. Her eyes were bright with the glee of a new topic to gossip on for that hour.

Peggy, for her sake, rolled her eyes as she stabbed at a piece of chicken with her fork and waved it threateningly in front of her roommate’s face. “We are lab partners. That’s it. Mr. Gregg, just thought it was a good idea to pair us together to be lab partners for this upcoming project. That’s it.” 

“Aw, c’mon, Pegs. You don’t see what I do. You go googley-eyes on him!”

“I do not.” 

“You talk about him all the time.”

“Because he’s in four of my six classes so I see him ninety percent of the week. It doesn’t mean I have some school-girl crush on him.”

“And,” Angie continued, promptly ignoring Peggy’s rebuttal. “You sit next to each other in class, even French. Face it, Pegs, you have a grade-A crush and it’s nothing to be ashamed about. It’s adorable.”

Peggy had no response as she bitterly shoved the chicken into her mouth for one reason - Angie was right and she hated how right she was.

--

“Whose the girl?” Sam asked Steve on his second day of classes after he’d waited for the blonde outside the room.

Steve peered up from the last-minute notes he was reviewing, watching Peggy walk by him after meeting her roommate. “Oh, uh, Peggy.”

“Peggy, huh? You sure spending lots of time lookin’ at her.” Sam was teasing, he could hear it dripping in his voice and Steve hated it. This would of course find its way back to Bucky to tease him about during his weekly phone call while out of state in the military.

“Sam, stop it. We’re just friends, ain’t nothing to it.”

“Sure, buddy, whatever you say but sooner or later it’s turnin’ into something else. I can see it happening. Just make sure I’m the best man at your wedding.”

“Please, you know that spots reserved for Bucky when I wound up marrying my easel.”

Because who’s gonna want to marry a 5’4, asthmatic, 92-pound guy that can’t even see straight without glasses? Not that Steve minded, he was happy alone and with friendships, but sometimes that loneliness did catch up to you.

And damn Sam to hell and back for being right.

A month and a half later, as Peggy walked away after promising to email him the extra credit assignment for Art History, Steve was fully aware that he had a crush on her.

And it was pathetic.

--

“So,” Bucky sighed over the phone three months later. “Sam says you got a date with your lil’ crush tonight.”

He was going to kill Sam. “No, I have a lab assignment with Peggy tonight. It’s not a date. And she’s not a crush.”

“Even over a thousand miles away, Rogers, I can tell you’re lying. Sam, are his ears turning pink?”

Goddamnit, Steve regrets putting Bucky on speaker. Or even introducing Sam and Bucky. 

“Yeah, man. Bright shades of pink, oh his cheeks too. And his neck - hey you’re a full-body blusher. Pegs is gonna love that!”

As the boys laughed, Steve drew the hood of his jacket over his head and grumbled, shoving his books into his bag. “You two are idiots. I’m going to Peggy’s, don’t wait up.”

Before Bucky could respond, he hung up on him and then three minutes later sent him a text about how he missed him and how Sam really seems into him.

That’ll shut him up.

--

Eight o’clock on the dot. Don’t you dare be late.

That’s what Peggy had told the asthmatic blonde when they met up after Astrology 101 to discuss the lab. Steve would be coming over to her place, they would go over their notes, the assignment, and then head down to the lab at their scheduled time.

It was not a date, no matter what she told Angie. This was not a date. This was just two friends, no two co-students, acquaintances getting together to complete an assignment. 

So who cared if she couldn’t stop thinking about him? Or if she wondered at times if his lips looked as soft as they felt. Or worried about him when he wasn’t in class or late and looked so flushed and yet relieved when he saw her there. Or the time she skipped class because her period cramps were too much and Steve looked so relieved to see her the next day. 

She thought about that look in his eyes often and hated how it gave her goosebumps, she hated how it made her stomach clench and butterflies to form. She tried to talk to Michael about it, but the man was just as hard to get ahold of and when he wasn’t, he teased her as all big brothers did.

Then proclaimed if she fell for a Yank, he was gonna revoke her English rights.

The prat.

8 o’clock and no Steve.

Peggy thought about calling him, a little worried because he wasn’t the type to be late. She decided to wait until half an hour. Half an hour and if Steve wasn’t’ here, she’d call him. Luckily, she didn’t have to because at 8:18 Steve showed up, face flushed, wheezing, and his hair sticking up in all directions.

“Oh you poor thing,” was the first thing out of her mouth, the worry and anxiety melting off of her. She should be mad that he was late or mad that she thought he stood her up, but she was just relieved. “Are you okay? What happened?” 

Taking him by the arm, she leads him inside and straight on her couch, bustling off to the kitchen to get him a glass of water and a snack cake. The guy looked peckish.

“Oh, I…” He shouldn’t like the fact she was doting over him, in fact, he should hate it, but by her doting, over him, it meant she was touching him and he liked that. “I had an asthma attack.”

It sounded like it took everything in him just to admit that and Peggy tried to ignore how that kicked-puppy look tugged on her heart. Steve hated pity and she wasn’t pitying him, she was worried. There was a difference.

“I’m okay now,” he continued, sipping on the water. “I guess I just got worked up and kinda lost and…” His thin shoulders shrugged as if to brush the fact he has a medical emergency off. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“You’re sorry?” The words came from her before she could help it. He was sorry for what? Having a medical emergency? 

It didn’t do any good when Steve flinched at her accusing tone.

“Steven, by no means should you be sorry. Yes, I was worried but you’re here now and you’re okay. It’s behind us. Do you still want to go to the lab? I could just reschedule us.”

“If we reschedule now it might take us two weeks to get a spot and we’ll be crunched for time.” He looked genuinely worried, eyes wide. “I’ll be fine. We can head over now.”

There was little argument from Peggy on that end. Steve was right, if they rescheduled then it could take them a while but that’s not what sold the deal. The fact she got more time with him as of right now was better than waiting.

--

“How’d you get lost?” Peggy asked, driving a stoic Steve from his thoughts as they braved the cold air after spending three and a half hours in the lab. It was now officially Saturday, meaning they could sleep in. Angie wasn’t home and wouldn’t be home until noon tomorrow, so she was looking forward to peace and quiet. 

Steve drew his scarf tighter around his face, looking up at her with cocked eyebrows. It was going to snow, he could feel it in his aching bones. “Oh. Uh, when I get an asthma attack I get...disorientated. Everything looked the same, I didn’t wanna call for help cause I was fine.”

Peggy couldn’t help herself in rolling her eyes. “I think we both have a different definitions of fine, Mr. Rogers. You are certainly not fine. I can still hear you wheezing and you had a hard time concentrating on the measurements tonight.”

She frowned as she watched him pat his pockets, obviously searching for something. “You okay, Steve?”

“My inhaler! I thought I had it on me, but I think I left it in your dorm. I-I’ll be fine without it, I can get it in the morning.”

“Steven Grant Rogers, you are not waiting until morning to get a life-saving device because of...what? You don’t want to be seen in my dorm? It’s co-ed, I can assure you that it’s fine!”

“I just don’t...want...people to assume or-or get you in trouble. Or...or…” His cheeks were heating up bright pink, Peggy found she adored the color on his cheeks.

“Or…” She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth, her hand snatching out to grab at a lamp post to keep from falling on a section of ice. It was already starting to snow around them, the ground cold enough to make it stick.

Steve cursed as he wrapped his arms around her chest, preventing her from falling. Both of their faces flushed, Steve’s more than Peggy’s at this point. The second they both were stable, he let go and took an unnecessary step away from her.

“Thank you,” she breathed, clearing her throat. “I think that decides that Steve, you’re staying with me tonight. Don’t worry, Angie is out tonight with her gal. I’m not risking you out in this storm.”

There was no point in arguing with Peggy, Steve knew this by now. He’s seen her debate lesser and greater minds than his in class and absolutely destroy them. Besides, part of him liked this idea, staying with her for the night. Maybe if he got enough courage he could ask her out, tell her how he felt or something. 

If he was anything like Bucky, he knew what he’d do. He’d whoo her and kiss her. But he wasn’t Bucky or Sam. He had no social skills with girls but he liked Peggy. 

“Home sweet home,” Peggy sighed when they were finally inside, their wet clothed stripped off and drying on the heater now. She sat Steve on the couch and bundled him in a bunch of blankets, coming back from the kitchen with two steaming cups of hot chocolate.

Sitting on the couch, she wiggled under the pile of blankets, not to much of Steve’s protest. Her thigh was touching his at this point. “Oh, you’re warm,” she breathed, sounding surprised. 

“Amazingly,” Steve laughed, rolling his eyes. “I think it’s the third cup of hot chocolate you’re forcing in me.”

He yawned as he said this, his face was suddenly drawn in a show of how exhausted he was. He looked so adorable when he yawned, his nose wrinkled up. He still had a smudge of ink on his forehead from when he was rubbing his brow in frustration.

“I’ve always said hot chocolate is good for the soul. Much better than any tea you have here.” Tapping on her laptop screen, she was happy to get Netflix up and hit the next episode on Chopped. 

Steve didn’t even make it to the second round of the episode, unsure of who was sent home for an overcooked risotto or missed basket ingredient. He was asleep, slumping into Peggy.

He was quite warm, Peggy noted, easing Steve down to her lap. He was warm and looked so adorable when asleep. That walk and asthma attack must’ve taken a lot of out of him, regardless of what he told her. At least he was resting now in her arms.

This isn’t where Peggy thought she’d end up tonight, but it’s a place she’d glad to be.

[bioticgoddess]

The Captain and the Artist (2/?)

Summary: It’s 2023 and about damn time for Steve Rogers, the retired Captain America, to get a life.

Author’s Note: Like I said last time...nothing about this will be updated regularly. I have two other on-going projects and nothing that resembles a schedule. So like/subscribe and let me know if you want to be tagged in this or any other of my on going/on-hiatus works. 

Enjoy!

2. Coffee and Paint

It had been several months since he’d retired after coming back to 2023. He’d given the shield and title of Captain America to Sam; and now Steve was trying desperately to acclimate to his new role as logistician and administrative leader. How Nat and Tony balanced those two roles in addition to everything they did as “active duty” Avengers escaped him. Natasha in particular, after all, she lacked an AI assistant. 

The change was exhausting but felt right, like he was not only honoring his two lost friends but also making his own path while continuing their work. All the conference calls he’d seen Nat have with the other Avengers filled his days. Even got a taste of Carol’s,and Rhodey’s painful attempts at flirting. The late Russian had once said it was worse than watching him try to do the same with any of the women he was set up with. He’d come to realize she was right. Then there were the mountains of paperwork. Everything from determining which missions and where the terrestrially based personnel were needed to planning morale events. 

The only respites coming when Bucky or Sam dragged him out of his office, often times to ensure the blond either ate something or socialized with people in person. Taryn and Wanda had been enlisted in their efforts on more than one occasion. All the while, Tony’s advice rattled around in his mind. The insistence that Steve enjoy life gnawed at him, growling louder with each passing day. 

So here he was, sitting at one of the outdoor tables of a cafe he’d been to a thousand times before. It was the same one that sat in the shadow of the renovated Avengers’ Tower and New York’s Grand Central station. When they were kids, it had been a sandwich shop where he and Bucky would split roast beef sandwiches too big for either of them to reasonably eat. The kind of sandwiches that they could pack away now without issue thanks to their super soldier serum enhanced physiologies. Over the decades the cafe had expanded from that little corner deli into a proper Cafe and Delicatessen. The sandwiches were still roughly the size of car,  relatively speaking of course. 

“Hey you,” the golden haired waitress’s singsong voice and her bright smile was like sunshine in the heart of a storm; she pulled his attention back from wandering and into the present. “It’s been a while. How are you?” Bridgit was his usual waitress, he’d watch her go out of her way over the years to make sure his table was hers. She always gave him a complementary Madeline with his coffee and carved out time in her shift to talk with him about art and music, or whatever else they could come up with. During the five years after the Snap, he’d only managed to come in twice. The first had been like a donkey kick to his gut when she was nowhere to be seen and hadn’t been able to bring himself to ask after her then. The second visit, a few weeks later, she’d been there. Seeing her alive had been such a relief that he’d actually cried.  

She’d hugged him that day.

Apparently seeing Captain America alive had had the same effect on her. Or maybe not? Bridgit had only called him Captain America once - the first time she ran into him, at an art gallery, following the Chitauri Invasion of 2012. She’d been out with a relative (her grandfather, he remembered) and their conversation was a brief introduction and a thank you. Other than that instance, she always called him by his name. 

Her voice interrupted his thoughts again, “Are you okay Steve?”

“Hmm? Yes, sorry Bridgit, just thinking,” he nodded, noticing his usual coffee order already on the table. “When did you?”

“Saw you come in,” the gentle nonchalance of her tone was inviting and calm. Slipping her order pad into her apron she asked, “How are you holding up?” It was the same question she’d asked him almost four years earlier. The kind smile on her lips was mirrored in her eyes.

“It’s strange; not having Tony and Natasha around anymore but...if not for them we wouldn’t have everyone else back. You and I,” he motioned between them half-heartedly, “Might not be here.” The thought of her turning to ash like so many others had hit him with the same force that slamming into the ice had. Instead of being swallowed into unconsciousness and unintended frozen sleep, a bubble of anxiety welled in his chest. “But we are,” he continued, hoping he didn’t sound as suddenly panicked as he felt. Or that what he’d said wasn’t as rehearsed as it felt. “So we go on only this time I think it’s possible to go on.” 

Furrowing her brow and tilting her head ever so slightly to the left, Bridgit looked at him like she knew he wasn’t being honest. It was the same look he’d seen on Bucky’s oldest sister when the brunet fibbed about why Steve had yet another black eye or what led to their Church clothes being so turn and muddied that their mothers were up until the wee hours cleaning and mending them. He almost laughed, “Give me some time, we’re all still feeling the void they left.” 

“Alright,” eyes narrowed at him suspiciously, she pursed her lips for a moment - this time playfully, “How about your usual and you tell me about your latest project?” she meant the sketchbook sitting by his right hand. He’d forgotten it was there, open to a blank page as he stared off into space.

Broad smile spreading across his face, Steve nodded, “That’s an excellent idea.”

---

It had become routine, again. Several times a week Steve Rogers would collect his sketch pad or whatever book he was reading and trek to the diner. Most of the time he’d barely get in the door before Bridgit had a table ready for him. In this respect he wasn’t unique. He’d watched her give the same courtesy to several other regulars - some she waited on, others her coworkers helped. Invariably, however, she made sure that his table was her responsibility. They talked about food, art, music, and life. 

“You paint,” he asked skeptically one day, his plate scattered with the crumbs of good bread and in-house fried potato chips. It was the kind of jest meant to tease and coax her into sitting. His brow was furrowed and eyes sparkling in the midday light. His own sketchbook open with several charcoal pencils laying out along the inner layer of its spine. The whole thing was a challenge and one that she met with narrowed eyes and the clink of plates as she stacked his empty ones on her tray, the check long since paid. 

Turning abruptly she insisted, “Meet me at the Gallery Art Studio.” He knew it well. The small gallery was several blocks down from the tower and the diner. The artists who exhibited their work there ranged from painters, photographers, and sculptors to those who made daily-use art (pottery, weaving, quilts, etc). Over the course of the three or four story building, the kind of items and art displayed shifted from the daily to the collet/display only variety. It was all beautiful art. 

Grinning despite himself, Steve nodded, “Alright. What time?”

Thoughtfully she placed a finger tip to her pursed lips and looked up at the clouds overhead. They lazily floated past, obscuring the sun for a moment. When their rays reached down to the street and the diner’s outdoor tables, she winked, “Five?” That was three hours away now. 

“Okay, five it is,” he smiled. “So, you going to tell me about what you paint and paint with?” He realized, as those words left his lips, that she had told him little about herself. Yes, he knew she liked art and that she’d grown up in a small midwestern town with her mother, young brothers - two of them, and her grandparents. No, they hadn’t been farmers, working class all around - her grandfather had served in the 101st, same as Bucky and had been at the Hydra base he liberated in World War II. He absolutely thought she was beautiful, her smile a thousand watts and her eyes bright as stars. There was nothing superficial about Brigid but he knew so little about her. None of her likes and dislikes - save that she liked him well enough to idle and talk with him for longer than she probably should and that she like art. She’d had some constructive suggestions for a few of his own drawings. 

Winking at him again, she smiled broadly, and made a point of popping the last syllable in her answer, “Mmmm...Nope.” 

The singsong tone of her voice and the way he golden hair swished, an runaway lock curling as it trailed down her neck from her loose bun, set a warmth in his chest that Steve had forgotten was possible. As he collected his things and slung a knapsack over his shoulder, the first Captain America stealthily he turned his head - under the guise of rubbing his brow and putting on sunglasses - to watch her at the register before heading off.

----

The intervening hours dragged on. He had a meeting with General Ross that just would not end. Even Bucky and Sam were starting to get agitated. Wanda and Taryn had set a notebook between them and were having their own private discussion within its pages. He’d given up making them pay attention months ago, both had enough focus on the meeting to chime in if the topic changed. Sam was still fighting for *the* Shield. Most of the brass wanted Steve to continue carrying it - he’d refused and repeated yet again that it was Sam’s now. 

One of Ross’s associates, a General whose name he hadn’t bothered to learn, suggested - not for the first time, “Why not permit Sergeant Barnes to be the new Captain America?” And just like he had every other time, Bucky sat stiff as a board, turning ghost white at the suggestion. 

This time, however, once the Inhuman put her hand on his, he nodded and refused outright, “No. I don’t want it. Steve gave it to Sam. He’s the only  one of us who can be Captain America. He’s earned it.”

“Miss Lantz,” he addressed her for the first time and the brunette looked up with a scowl on her face. Steve just hoped she remembered their discussion earlier about not cursing out a Four Star General. He might be an ass but he could still make all of their lives miserable. “What do you make of all this? You have been exceedingly quiet given your fraudulent death, involvement with... the Avengers.” They all knew what this short balding man had meant and even General Ross seemed relieved he hadn’t outright said Given your relationship with Sergeant Barnes.  

The hum of biotics filled the room momentarily. This time Bucky squeezed her hand. “Sir, my opinion is that you should honor Captain Rogers’ decision and leave me out of it,” the stiffness in her voice was unnatural. He knew the pair would disappear later to their room or the gym and Bucky would have an anxiety crash. They weren’t as frequent now as Steve understood they’d been in Wakanda but he knew the signs. She, on the other hand, had a routine for taking care of him that the retired Avenger took notes on whenever he could.

God he was jealous. Even now, in a meeting he was supposed to be focused on, a part of his attention noted the little gesture and touches between the pair. The kind of thing he’d seen between Clint with Laura ,the brief affair that was Bruce and Nat, and the way Pepper and Tony had been - even when they were at odds.  He’d swallowed those feelings for years. And it  was the one hole in his life he couldn’t quite fill and he reminded himself silently that he had made the right choice. “You can’t go back, she would kick your ass,” he thought, lost in a day dream that - as they often had the last few years - turned to Bridgit. 

“Captain,” General Ross called, he looked impatiently at the blond. 

Clearing his throat, Steve apologized, “Sorry Mr. Secretary, was thinking about all this and I missed the last bit.”

Sam and Bucky shared a dubious look. Wanda jotted something down in their little notebook and elbowed Taryn. 

Rolling his eyes, the Secretary of State grumbled, “We’ll revisit this discussion next week. Until then, the Shield stays in the Avengers Vault.”

“Yes, sir.” 

There was a click and the hologram popped out of existence. “Well that was terrible,” Wanda shook her head. 

“You two have no idea,” Bucky kissed the Inhuman’s temple as she “mhmmed” in agreement with the other woman. Steve couldn’t help wondering if Bridgit might… “You want to go with me?” He’d missed the first part of his best friend’s question.

Blinking he asked, “What?”

“I need to go for a run or to the gym. Starting to feel....penned in...so I need to do something,” he was fidgeting. It was that anxious crash, “Did you want to go with me.” 

Rubbing the back of his head, Steve apologized - his second in fifteen minutes, “I’m sorry Buck. I have some stuff I need to take care of. Rain Check?”

“Yea...um...hey Sam, you in,” he asked sheepishly, blue eyes darting to the Falcon/new Captain America. They’d become closer, though not yet friends, since coming back from The Snap. The fact that Bucky was willing to invite him along, to trust him if the anxious crash turned into something more, was telling in ways Steve hadn’t expected. It made him smile. The team was starting to heal, really and truly. 

Nodding, the other man grinned, “Yea man. Let’s go.” They marched out of the conference room. Sam patting Steve’s shoulder as he passed, “It’ll work out.” It was clear which Super Soldier he was talking to in that moment.

“Yea, I hope so,” he wasn’t talking about getting this new Council to accept Sam as Captain America. He knew that was going to shake out just fine and sooner or later they’d have to accept his choice of successor. Nor was he talking about Bucky - Wakanda and Taryn had and were seeing to that. 

His eyes darted to the clock as both Taryn and Wanda filed out, a few steps behind the other two Avengers. The older brunette had volunteered to send her meeting notes - not the ones with the Sokovian girl - to the Avengers at-large members like Clint and Scott. Wanda was right on her friend’s heels when she turned to Steve suddenly and asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yes, why,” he shrugged, hoping he didn’t look as distracted as he felt.

“You seem...distracted,” her observation was proof enough that his effort had failed.

Yawning he shrugged again, “Tired. It’s been a long few weeks.” It was a lie that he could tell Wanda didn’t entirely believe but he also knew she wouldn’t press him for answers. It was a small favor when she narrowed her eyes at him and turned to finish the walk to the common room. 

She called back, “I’m here when you want to talk about it. We all are.” Then the elevator dinged and any sign of her was gone. 

“Ah shit,” he grumbled, head in his hands. His phone buzzed with the first alert he’d set: “MUSEUM -  BRIDGIT: 30 MIN” flashed across his screen. He needed to get out the door now.  

--

He’d barely gotten there on time, a feat he both applauded and kicked himself for accomplishing. There she was, waving at him with the same bright smile she always wore. She’d changed her clothes from the pink and white button down with it’s white apron that she wore at the diner to a cute sundress. The skirt was splashed with abstract yellow flowers on a white background. She had a cropped, long sleeve yellow cardigan on with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows. “Wow,” he mouth reflexively.

“You made it,” she beamed.

Steve felt the butterflies mixed with awe as he walked over to her. It reminded him of the first time he saw Peggy. She’d taken his breath away then. Bridgit was doing that now. “Wouldn’t have missed this for the world,” he took her hand and kissed the back of it, like a gentleman. Or at least like his mother had taught him to do before the war. 

His eyes flitted up to her flushed face, her lower lip caught between her teeth. A soft giggle bubbled in her throat and she led him into the gallery. They were there for a specific exhibition, displayed in the building’s top floor. That didn’t stop them from stopping to take in the rest of the art throughout the building.

“Here we are,” Bridgit pronounced when they finally reached the featured exhibit. Her smile broadened as Steve moved a step forward, regarding the pictures. It was a collection of water colors done by two artists, both had signed with small stamps similar to the ones found on Japanese artwork. The difference, however, being that these were made of English initials superimposed in a design clearly inspired by those used in Japan. 

Turning his bright blue eyes from the paintings to her face, he could see her beaming. It was the kind of pride that comes with accomplishment and being around people appreciating what she’d - oh hell. He cursed himself right then and there, attention snapping back to the central picture. It was a watercolor of New York harbor, boats moored around the Statue of Liberty. In the background a pink and purple sunset gave it a somber look, even Lady Liberty herself looked like she was crying. In the panel next to it, the same island only there were fewer boats and what looked like whales. In the third panel it was black behind the statue save for the pastel lines and dots used to impose fireworks into the sky. 

Why hadn’t he figured it out sooner. Studying the red stamp in the corner he could finally make out the laters, all jumbled together: BRT. They stood for Bridgit Rose Tofte -- her full name. The color drained from his face. He’d been admiring her paintings in this gallery for years now. There were a few portraits of the Avengers - it had started with one of himself, of course, from the New York Incident. Then one of Tony, God rest his soul, flying over New York. Then Natasha and Clint caught having coffee. He remembered them all.  

The landscapes were just as pointed,  all showing progression over time. He remembered a piece showing Strawberry Fields, four panels - one in each season - with children and families going through the park. The vibrance of the fall leaves had really caught his eye then. This one,  like all the others was titled in terms of time as well: “1840” - the number of days between the snap and when the world celebrated getting everyone back from The Snap. “Bridgit,” he breathed, turning back to her, “These are yours.”

“Sure are,” she rocked on her heels, the air of innocence around her was intoxicating. “Well, mine and Lizzie’s,” the other waitress at the cafe, she hadn’t worked there in several years, however. 

“You’ve listened to me rave about your art for years,” he was bright red and the sheepish boy from Brooklyn spoke in place of the First Avenger, “I must have sounded like...oh god…”

Looking up at him, Bridgit’s smile broadened, “You were always so complementary and what suggestions you had were helpful.” She pulled him gently around the corner. “This one, was a special request, part of a pair - it’s sister is with the commissioners.”

He furrowed his brow as they moved. What he saw took the Captain aback. It was a grayscale of Tony, his nearly trademark shades on with the Ironman helmet reflected in his lenses. Beneath it, neatly printed on a white placard beneath the number “3000” was the following: “[...] As we remember him? Remember Tony Stark was more than a man, he was Iron Man. His life was a lesson that change can bring out the best in a person. Live as he lived and always - remember. - P. Potts, 2023”. Pepper had asked her to do this? 

The blonde let out a squeak when Steve wrapped his arms around her from behind. She could feel his nose and lips pressed into the crown of her head. Softly he whispered, “Thank you.” He kissed the top of her head almost reflexively. It was simple and had so much more attached to it than he realized in that moment. 

Blushing, she smiled and chewed her lower lip, “You’re welcome.” The shudder that ran up her spine with the light kiss to her hair  made her face redder. That had happened. Captain America - Steve Rogers - had kissed her. Sure it was only her hair but....he did it all the same. 

“What do you say we go get some coffee and you can tell me about how you get some of the views you do on your pictures,” he whispered, failing at sounding as suave as Bucky would have once managed. He could picture the brunet shaking his head, brow level and eyes narrowed. If he didn’t know better he’d have sworn the other Super Soldier was there in the Gallery.  “Or we could…” 

His arms had loosened around her and Bridgit turned to face him. Looking up at him, she pressed her hand to his chest, “Coffee sounds like a plan. There’s this place I know.” 

Hands linked they slipped out into the newly dark streets of New York. Steve Rogers smiling a broad goofy smile the whole way. 

--

Post note: Because we all deserve this ray of sunshine right here...

[terrordave1]

Would you believe I spent the better part of last week hiding in New England? It all started back in December when my fellow Terror Dave’s amazing girlfriend, Melissa, unexpectedly reached out to me. For those who read our recent posts from Erie, Pennsylvania, you may recall the purpose of that get-together was to celebrate David Albaugh’s 50th birthday (albeit two months early) since I was unable to make it out to Rhode Island in May.

Or at least that’s what I thought at the time.

Just two weeks after formalizing that trip, Melissa’s message arrived asking for my assistance in throwing him a surprise party. Tracking me down took a bit of work on her part as I was in the midst of a “90 days without Facebook Challenge” and it’s not like she could ask David for my email address. I was truly touched by her efforts as well as the kind words that came with them. “You’re the first person I want to talk to about this as you’re so incredibly special to him,” she wrote. “The way he talks about you is so heartwarming to me, and I seriously doubt he’d consider it a birthday party without you there.”

I was very grateful for her sharing that with me. Best friendships are a rare gift that can be a challenge to maintain even when you don’t live a thousand miles away from each other like we do.  Melissa helped me see that despite the distance, we Terror Daves really have evolved into a family of sorts.

Whoever this new woman was in David’s life, she gave me some much-needed clarity and I, in turn, would give her my full support. With the two co-conspirators officially aligned, it was time to see to it that David got the birthday celebration he deserved.

For the next five months, we hashed out all the details while selecting a theme. “Tarantulas/spiders” seemed a wise choice as David’s been an arachnid enthusiast since childhood and has his own bug site you should definitely check out HERE. It also seemed the perfect way to tie in David’s two main worlds – zoos and Halloween. Speaking of zoos, getting his co-workers at the Roger Williams Park Zoo to RSVP was something of a challenge and would likely have been a complete disaster without the aid of our insider pal, Jason Schoolcraft. Poor Jason, every time Melissa came to me with a concern (which was often considering what needed to be done) I’d usually run straight to him with it. Melissa was determined that David see just how loved he truly is and that we get at least fifty people. At first it seemed like a pipe dream but we’d end up surpassing it.

It seemed surreal when the week finally arrived and we both had knots in our stomachs. There were just so many ways he could accidentally find out and ruin the “surprise” element that we both really wanted him to experience. My anxieties even inspired recurring nightmares of me accidentally falling into Melissa’s cake…

…and let’s talk about that cake, shall we? I can only describe it as sheer spider magic and a pastry worthy of the Food Network Hall of Fame! Unless David is starting to get senile in conjunction with his now officially going “over the hill,” he’d best devote an entire post about this on that aforementioned bug site of his!

My creative contributions revolved around spider centerpieces and a special card I made on a three-fold presentation board. The HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAVID letters would be created with photos of him and his critters and guests would sign a spider die-cut with a metallic marker that I’d glue on.

Before leaving Chicago I packed up my car with party supplies which probably resembled David’s vehicle when he embarks on one of his “Bug Guy” school presentations…only these spiders were all plastic! I secretly drove out to Rhode Island, arriving several days before the party. During that time Melissa and I met up once to work on things since she had to maintain her normal schedule with David and avoid raising his suspicions (and also work on that fabulous cake). I was totally cool with that arrangement since I had another project going on myself which will all be revealed in the next few posts. Of course, so far as David was concerned, I was still in Chicago. To further the illusion, I took a bunch of photos while working at my Brookfield Zoo the week before and then texted them to him the day of the party so he’d think I just took the shots and was still there working my normal shift. Melissa said she was in awe of my espionage skills and, truth be told,  I was starting to feel like a chunky James Bond myself!

Melissa and I met up at my hotel which had a kitchenette and served as David’s birthday headquarters. We worked on our projects while chatting away and she commented on how alike David and I were; our mannerisms, our machine-gun chuckle, and how we both bought ourselves the exact same MARVEL superheroes wallet the month before. That made me laugh because it reminded me of the year he and I sent each other the same Christmas card. Yes, folks, we Daves are very much alike, I’m just a gayer and more flamboyant version.

My room had a full refrigerator which made it ideal for hiding the cake but, other than that, I couldn’t stand the place. The bed was about as comfy as a rock garden and it had a weird smell that no one seemed to be able to detect but me…that is until David came over after the party and smelled it too. Check off yet another box in the “Daves being similar” department!

But I digress…

Spider cake…awaiting its final molt

As the event drew near I was practically the poster boy for manic depressive behavior. One minute I’d be a nervous wreck and the next overly sentimental and weepy thinking about how happy this was all going to make him. In fact one evening I started blubbering in my car while stuck in Providence traffic (which, believe me, is cause enough for tears). Honestly, you’d think one of my kids was about to get married or something. Emotions were clearly running high.

At 4 o’clock in the morning, the day of the party, I stirred in my sleep and that brief moment where my conscious mind registered what day it was, woke me up so fast you’d swear I’d just had cocaine, coffee, and candy bars! I jumped up and nervously started pacing that stinky hotel room while wishing someone would walk in and shoot me with a tranquilizer dart. I mean, what if some idiot party straggler shows up at the same time he does and gives it all away at the last second? What if he notices familiar cars in the venue’s lot? And, even more importantly, why the hell didn’t I pack any alcohol on this trip?!?

Melissa picked me up and we started getting things ready soon after. With time running out, I summoned Jason over so he could start blowing up the balloons. I’m guessing he’d about had it with our requests as the look on his face after his 40th balloon seemed to suggest him wanting to bonk me over the head with the helium tank!

The guests started arriving around 5:30 pm which was good because it gave me the opportunity to chit chat with them and ease some of the tension.  I was particularly happy to meet one of David’s oldest friends, Meredith, as well as his brother, Steve and his family. I’ve heard so much about these people over the past eight years they honestly didn’t feel like strangers to me at all when we finally had an opportunity to interact.

David showed up promptly at 6 pm and I could tell he was genuinely surprised! I was hoping I’d be the last person he’d see (so I could provide a second surprise) but got confused as to what door he was entering from and ended up being the first instead. Doh! Oh well, our main objective of him being surprised was still a success despite the incredible odds. At the end of the day, that’s all that mattered. All that worrying and pacing had clearly been for nothing though I still needed that damn drink!

Guests prepare for David’s arrival

“SURPRISE!!!!”

Of course, the party itself wasn’t the only shock we had in store for David. We contacted New England horror hostess, Penny Dreadful (who’s no stranger to this site) and she graciously rearranged her schedule to attend. She even performed a special rendition of “Monster Mash” for the birthday boy that was nothing short of amazing!

Melissa also had one of David’s favorite superheroes, Deadpool, show up. He made a grand entrance and then, after hamming it up in typical “merc with the mouth” fashion, asked for David’s autograph!

Melissa enlisted the services of her pals at funfotos2go to capture guest pictures in hilarious ways using a green screen and props! Anyone who knows me knows there are few things I enjoy more than hamming it up for the camera and I thought this really added a whole new dimension to the party! As soon as I scan a few of the finished products they gave me at the party, I’ll add them here so you can see. For now, you have to settle for the green screen versions Meredith took. The only uncomfortable moment was when this nice guy (and fellow Svengoolie fan) Joe Cardillo and I were doing a photo op with David & Melissa. To counter the two love birds, I thought it would be funny if I hugged Joe and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Well, in trying to hold the pose for the camera (which appeared to be having some sort of delay), I ended up smooching that poor man for an awfully long time. In fact, the last time I kissed someone like that I had to buy them dinner first. Worst of all, when the picture came back they somehow missed the whole thing! Thank heavens I’d just brought Joe a freshly signed rubber chicken from Svengoolie or he’d of probably decked me!

After everyone ate their yummy Italian meal (the man does love his pasta) Melissa lit the candles and led everyone in singing “Happy Birthday.” It was the ideal role for her as she can actually sing. Usually at these type of things, it’s like music in a Catholic Church. The Priest always has the worst voice and is the loudest one! Not so here, thanks to this talented songstress!

After everyone sang, David made a wish and blew out the candles!

Then things took on an almost tragic turn as the cake-cutting began. I honestly hated seeing that thing get demolished but, trust me, it tasted as good as it looked.

Even from my distant vantage point in Chicago, I could see that Melissa was the best thing that’s ever happened to my best friend! She also throws a mean party as proven by everyone having the time of their lives! Kudos Melissa! I should also mention that the night’s musical selections were pitch perfect thanks to their DJ, and good friend, Todd Mackalinaw! I heard several people commenting on how awesome he was and they weren’t exaggerating.

The final event was a montage of video testimonials which I’m hoping to turn into a YouTube clip and add to this post later. Melissa is in the process of getting those out to me so David can have a DVD copy as well.

After most of the guests left, we party-planners and contributors all took a nice strong shot while toasting the man of the hour!

After the party, David went back to the horror hotel with me. A couple months prior to my arrival, Melissa convinced him to take the next day (Monday) off so he could “help Joe move.” This was really a ruse as it was so he and I could spend my last day in New England together before beginning my fifteen-hour journey back to Chicago early Tuesday morning. Her going to all the trouble of concocting that story so we could hang out one last time this year really meant a lot! We ended up going to a dinosaur related locale and that story will be featured on my own site Dave’s Dinosaurs and Prehistoric Pit Stops soon!

As for the party, I think it was absolutely befitting of the man it was celebrating. He was surrounded by the people who loved him the most along with plenty of representatives from both his monster and zoo worlds! And so today, May 25th a.k.a. the actual date of his birth, I’d like to wish my fellow Terror Dave and best friend a VERY HAPPY 50th  BIRTHDAY and a fantastic year ahead! I hope whatever you wished for before blowing out the candles comes true.

Although after seeing you and Melissa up there together I’m thinking it already has.

Much Love to you bro!

Dave Fuentes 

Happy 50th Birthday David Albaugh (and the story behind that amazing surprise party)! Would you believe I spent the better part of last week hiding in New England? It all started back in December when my fellow Terror Dave's amazing girlfriend, …