Little Star // a Steve Rogers, Captain America, Avengers story

Happiness

By the next day, the entire school seemed to know about Miss Morris and Captain America's tête à tête, as well as her red puffy eyes afterward. She managed to convince the general public that he had not, in fact, made her cry. That, although emotional, it was a professional and not personal conversation. No, she had not heard from him since then, because there was no real reason for him to contact her.

Except of course she was hoping that he would.

During the following week there were questions in the faculty break room about the biceps. They all seemed to know she'd had her hand on his arm. The students wanted to know why she hadn't gone for a ride on the motorcycle. Because she hadn't been asked. A few asked what kind of pen he let her use. Was it some sort of high-tech Stark laser pen? No, it was an old-fashioned fountain pen that he probably found in an antique store. One starry-eyed but insistent junior girl had wanted to know exactly what color his eyes were – could you draw them for me, Miss Morris? I have colored pencils.

And now that over a week had passed and she was at home for the weekend, Ellie thought she was a fool to have given him her number. He must get enough names and numbers on little pieces of paper over the course of a year to fill his saddle bags. Twice. And what on earth would make her stand out to him?

~

Petite, with bright blonde hair, a pert nose, and big blue eyes; Ellie had never doubted that she was perfectly fine looking. She was very fit, running regularly as well as working her core hard with yoga and pilates. She was cute and pretty and deceptively strong for her size.

So sure, her healthy, girl-next-door looks might be in her favor when it came to Captain America. She was a whole lot smaller than him, though. She wondered how that would affect... things. Ellie gave an inward groan. How to address 'things' with him, or anyone else for that matter? Given her past, it wouldn't be easy.

~

The assault had happened when she was thirteen. As part of her emotional and physical healing, she had decided that from then on she she would simply always be in control of what happened to her body, and she had been. But something else had happened after that first, painful experience. As time went by, Ellie began to see and understand boys differently. She seemed to know exactly what they wanted, and she discovered profound satisfaction in 'giving happiness,' as she thought of it.

She never discussed her 'skill' or activities with anyone. To her it was something completely private and personal. She was painstakingly safe after that first time and never did anything that made her uncomfortable, that she didn't want to do. She was in control, choosing when and to whom she gave herself. 

As her senior year of high school began and the number of boys grew, they inevitably talked among themselves, and then to other people. Murmurs began to circulate in school and then around the town. People were putting together just how much happiness she had been spreading.

The shaming came fast on the heels of the murmurs. Ellie finished her senior year from home. Her parents didn't really understand, placing the blame on her traumatic experience four years earlier. They found Ellie a good therapist and hoped for the best. 

Ellie quickly made the decision to become entirely celibate. She knew instinctively that it was the right choice for her at the time, but it was difficult. She missed the togetherness, albeit brief, of physical intimacy. She also yearned for the feeling of completion and satisfaction she had felt when 'her boys' went away happy. 

Intellectually she knew what she had done as a younger woman wasn't wise, but she couldn't believe that giving so much pleasure was intrinsically bad. Not long into her collegiate career she realized that if she herself became a therapist, maybe she could help others navigate equally complicated lives.

After graduation she came home and found a job with the local health department. She still received the occasional shaming look from a passerby, and she felt she had to work twice as hard to prove that she was happily single, celibate, and not chasing after the town's husbands and sons.

In one year, she helped prevent two suicides, guided several addicts to find it within themselves to get clean, and improved numerous young people's self esteem. When her successes became public knowledge, her counseling was sought by many of those who had nearly ruined her. The people of her town were finally seeing her for who she was, not what she had done.

~

Why am I even worrying about explaining my... complicated... past to a freaking Avenger? she wondered, pulling herself from her thoughts. Because he's supposed to be a virgin? Can that even be possible? Jesus, does it even work? I mean, he's been through radiation and some impossible serum and the ice... so on what date do you ask Captain America if his junk is functional?

Ellie shook her head and turned back to the pile of reports on the dining table in front of her. Work. Work would get her mind off the 'Star-Spangled Man with a Plan' and back where it belonged.

Two hours later, finished for that day, she stood up and stretched. The varsity wrestling sweats she wore slid down her hips, threatening to fall off. They had belonged to Charlie, her brother. He had turned eighteen just two days before he was lost, and she kept a drawer full of his things at her house.

Only a year or two before the Snap the two of them had seemed nearly the same size, then he had a growth spurt like only a sixteen-year-old boy can, and suddenly he was almost ten inches taller than she, with broad shoulders and muscles. The dark blonde mop on his head hadn't changed, though. She'd give a lot of things to run her hand through it right now.

Ellie was re-tying the pants when her phone began to ring. The screen showed no incoming number, but a series of figures she didn't recognize flashed across the screen. Hoping the thing wasn't on the fritz, she answered.