Princess of Mischief {Loki Fanfiction} Book 2

Chapter 4: {Steve/Annabelle Split POV Chapter}

Steve POV: 

     Just to believe she was here was a shock. The fact that she grew up was even more shocking. But yet, here Annabelle was, by my side as I showed her through the private dining room for The Avengers, trying to resist the urge to look at her too much.

     Annabelle grew up from the mere age of twelve, having been the little girl following me around with my shield, to a stunning redheaded eighteen year old with weapons. Was it wrong to obviously be attracted to that kind of beauty?

     "So here is the bar, if you ever decide to want a drink-" My sentence was cut short when she interrupted.

     "I'm eighteen, I'm pretty sure drinking is out of the question." Annabelle's laugh was sweet and just twirled around me.

     'Get ahold of yourself Rogers. You only just met Annabelle after four years and now that she's of age you're acting like a dog chasing after meat. Be respectful.' The voice inside my head nagged, causing me to rub my right temples slowly.

     "You alright, Mr. Rodgers?" Her voice broke through my hazed mind and I found her standing rather close to me with a cool hand pressed against my forehead. My eyes wandered up before I removed her hand slowly and hesitantly. The lost feeling from the lack of contact caused me to sigh and rub my temple again, walking towards the door leading out of the dinning room. 

     "Yes I am... I'm fine... um... Annabelle, may ask you for a favor?" I turned on my heel to face her as she still stood at the other end of the room.

     "Yes, Mr. Rogers?" I huffed a little to myself, pushing my hands into the pockets of my tan pants; tan pants with a fitted white shirt tucked in with whatever comfortable modern shoes I could find.  I preferred to wear it around the tower since it was what I had worn in the 40s. Peggy always did say though that it would be the outfit I'd wear the day I die...

     Peggy...

     I felt my heart hurt as I remembered her. Here I was though, 70 years later looking as if 25 years old, the same age for however much longer until somebody killed me. It really was neither a good nor bad thing. But here I was now acting like a fool around another woman. I couldn't betray Peggy... even if she were still alive or if she were gone now. My heart belonged to her.

     "Please just call me Steve." I gave a small smile towards Annabelle, watching as she pulled her dark red hair into bun.

     Her kind smile and nod could have killed me. "Thank you, Steve."

     With that I returned her nod and turned to leave the room when Tony, his wife Emi, and Clint barged through the door.

    

*****

Annabelle's POV:

     Steve had just told me to refer to him as 'Steve' rather than what I called him when I was younger, Mister Rogers, and I felt that was a step in building a friendship. He seemed suddenly tense around me though. Only minutes before he was rubbing his temples and murmuring incoherently to himself after being rather kind and close with me, which I didn't protest against. But now he seemed to keep his distance.

     As I was putting my hair back, three people had barged through the gray doors leading into the dining room we were in. I recognized one man as Tony and the other as Hawkeye, his real name Clint Barton though, and then another woman who... I didn't seem to know.

     Steve had to jump back to avoid being hit by the doors as they swung open. "Oh Tony, please tell me what is wrong with my brother will you already? He contacted me but instead you found out. I have every right to know!" The dark haired brunette complained as she followed behind Tony, Clint close behind her.

     "Look Emi, it's nothing you need concern yourself with. It's just family issues. Ask Annabelle when she gets here or go up to Asgard and ask yourself for god's sake!" Tony shouted as he walked to the bar. Clint and the woman whose name was apparently 'Emi' stopped by the table and sighed as Tony took a bottle of what I guessed was alcohol, popped open the corkscrew, took a deep swig of the liquid, then placed the then half empty bottle on the marble counter.

     "C'mon Tony, calm yourself. Annabelle is older now so relax. She won't be like Loki." Clint tried to reason with him as he walked over and leaned against the counter. I guess it didn't faze the three that Steve and myself were in the room.

     "How the hell would you know that? She caused enough problems here when she was little and now she has to live with us? God save us all." Tony took another deep swig of the drink and let his eyes roll back. Emi sighed and I felt a strong hand pull me by the arm out into the hall.

     "Hey what the heck?" I complained once I noticed it was Steve as he closed the door, cutting off the arguing inside the room.

     "Sorry you had to hear that... Tony has issues..." Steve laughed a little, but I could only bite my tongue and fold my arms. He sighed a little and placed his hand on my shoulder. "Here come with me. I'll show you to your room."

     "Alright I guess... Seems like Tony doesn't want me here and Emi or whoever the hell that woman was is clueless. Sure I can't go stay at a hotel or something?" Smiling sadly, he shrugged.

     "I'm the only avenger who doesn't live in the towers... maybe you'd like to stay at my apartment then until we get those two sorted out?"

     Steve's offer took me by surprise. Me stay with Steve at his house? That was a sudden turn of events but it would be a lot better than staying here were I wasn't wanted I guess... "Are you su-" Steve pressed his index finger to my lips to shush me. I couldn't help but laugh a little.

     "It's really not an issue. I'll just go find Nick and grab my keys to the apartment and we'll be on our way. Its no problem helping out a friend."

     Friend... I was his friend. With a smile forming on my lips, he grinned and ushered me to an elevator. It had been years since I'd used one. As I got in Steve told me to grab my bag on the top floor then meet him in the lobby. When Steve hurried and disappeared down the hall, I began my battle against the elevator by fumbling with all sorts of buttons... Why was technology so difficult sometimes?