white flag, steve rogers

017. brooklyn baby

chapter seventeen
017. brooklyn baby

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    IN A ROOM of superheroes, gods, scientists, assassins and people whose names were always going to be remembered, Pamela thought she'd end up hating every moment. She'd feel like she was standing on a stage for everyone to look, point and laugh. This wasn't her scene, it was true. She wasn't someone who was social, nor was she someone who was exactly approachable. No one wanted to approach a snake if they saw one▬most people were far too self-preserving to make that mistake. Pamela just supposed Steve Rogers was different. He saw a snake and instead of walking the other way, he offered her a drink, and asked how she was doing, and checked whether she was warm enough▬like she was some flower in a vase instead of a scaly, cold-blooded reptile. It was a nice change. 

    She didn't need to know everyone, nor did she need to speak to them, either. Sam mostly did all of the talking for her anyway▬he was great at that. He talked, she just glared; it was a fool-proof system they had put together which worked very well. But Steve? Steve Rogers was like a warm blanket and melted butter on bread just fresh from the bakery. Despite being so broad-shouldered and stronger than nearly everyone else in this building, he was so gentle. He passed her a glass with soft fingertips, spoke to Pamela in a low, but soothing tone and offered her that little smile that really softened every harsh scale on Pam's skin the moment she saw it. 

    Pamela Daniels couldn't help it▬and she didn't want to hide it. Not to Steve. He was the last person she wanted to hide anything from. When she asked him who he wanted her to be, he had replied: How about Pamela Daniels, whoever she is? And Pamela Daniels promised to let him know the moment she found out▬and she was always finding out, and he was learning every new part of her like he was turning the pages of a book which kept him on his toes with a bated breath and supsension. He wanted to know what was on the next page, in the next chapter. And she showed it to him each and every time. 

    They both learnt a lot about each other they didn't see back in Washington, and just the taste of each other made them want to learn more▬to see more. Neither one of them were two-dimensional, they were both something far more special. While they might not believe it for themselves, at least they believed it for the other to make up for it. 

    And so, Pamela Daniels enjoyed herself at Stark's party. Not for the lavish penthouse, nor the abundance of food, and not for the drinks▬and most definitely not for the guest list. She enjoyed it because she enjoyed spending the time with Steve. 

    (She also quite enjoyed watching Sam lose to him at eight-ball pool). 

     Sam whistled lowly when the white ball knocked the red across the table, but missed the hole, bouncing back across the table. "Oh, come on man," he sighed and balanced his pool stick close to his side, shaking his head. "Pam▬" he gestured to her as if it had been her fault.

    She stood up from where she had been leaning her elbows on the side of the table. "Excuse me?" she let out softly, gasping in a subtle way. "How was that my fault?"

    "You're leaning on the table," Sam said and she stared at him, unable to believe it and fighting back her amusement. She heard Steve chuckle softly as he made his way to the table for his turn, aiming his cue stick as Pamela crossed her arms at Sam. "You leaning on the table messed up my game."

    "Oh, sure," Pamela let out sarcastically, falling for Sam's trap and she knew it the moment he grinned to himself, amused at her reaction, "that's definitely what happened." She quickly leaned over and smacked his shoulder after she understood she fell for his teasing.