Chapter Text
Harry tilted her head upwards. She’d been in New York for a few months now, but she still couldn’t get used to the sheer size of it. It was so terribly different from Oxford, which had had an odd sense of familiarity about its small-town size and old, weathered buildings. Here, there were old buildings, yes, but they stood right next to modern ones, which stretched up high towards the sky, towering over her. She felt small, here - small and insignificant, just another person on New York’s busy streets. She found she rather liked it.
She’d taken to wandering the streets of neighborhoods on her days off, people-watching. Dr. Erskine said her ease with solitude was one of her charms.
A small smile flitted across her face. She was in Brooklyn now, not far from where the final stage of the project would take place. Her feet had brought her here entirely by accident - one of her favorite things was to simply go where the wind led her. She’d found a number of delightful hole-in-the-wall restaurants this way, along with hidden gems and parks.
The sound of flesh hitting flesh brought her out of her musings. That sounded nasty - before she knew it, she was running towards the source. She skidded to a stop in an alleyway.
Three large, burly men were ganging up on a smaller, skinnier blond one who, to his credit, was still fighting back. Harry’s lips pressed into a thin line.
“Excuse me,” she said clearly. The three men paused, visibly taken aback. They turned towards her, and the tallest one leered.
“Hey there, sugar,” he grinned. “I don’t wanna hit a lady, ‘specially one as pretty as you - why don’t you step away and pretend you never saw anything?”
“I’m offended that you think so lowly of me,” Harry said coolly. She hadn’t wanted to make assumptions, but it was glaringly obvious to her what was happening. She cracked her knuckles.
The men guffawed. “Listen,” the tallest one said condescendingly. “I - “
Harry didn’t let him finish his sentence. In an instant, she was in front of him, slamming the heel of her hand upwards into his chin. His head snapped back, and he stumbled, dazed, in time for her to deliver two punches in the face and abdomen to his two friends.
“C’mon,” she said, pulling the blond man up from the ground. “Let’s go.”
He resisted. “No,” he said stubbornly. “You go. I don’t want you to get hurt - “
“For heaven’s sake - “
Harry let out an exasperated sigh. He clearly wasn’t moving, so she turned back to the three men, who were quickly recovering.
“Look,” she said. “The three of you should probably run.”
They snorted.
“Sugar,” the tallest man said, “it’s three on one, and you’re just a girl.”
“Three on two, actually,” the blond man said, pushing himself to his feet. He stumbled, though, and had to lean against the wall.
The tallest man gave him a look-over. “Still three on one, Rogers. Look,” he turned back to Harry. “You took us by surprise that time - it won’t happen again.”
Harry shrugged, rolling her shoulders. “Alright then. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She fell into a battle stance, keeping her weight on the balls of her feet. Beside her, the blond man - Rogers - brought up his fists.
One of the men seemed to have an ounce of sense. “Uh, Jim, maybe this isn’t such a good idea - “
“Shuddup, Rick,” the tallest man - Jim - growled. “It’s just some -”
Before he could finish his sentence, Harry had already delivered a roundhouse kick to his sternum. He flew back, into one of his buddies, and they crashed against the wall, clearly dazed.
Harry turned to the last man, who was giving her a wary look.
“Listen, Rick,” Harry said, “you seem to have some common sense. Why don’t you take your friends and get out of here?”
Rick nodded furiously. “Uh, thanks,” he said, inching closer to his friends. Harry gestured for him to get on with it impatiently. Giving her a fearful look, as though afraid she’d change her mind, he hauled the other two men to their feet and dragged them from the alley.
Harry sighed, relaxing, and turned back to Rogers. She raised his eyebrows at the wide-eyed, slack-jawed look he was giving her, and he quickly closed his mouth.
“Thanks,” he said grudgingly. “But I had ‘em on the ropes.”
Harry stared at him. “I… really don’t think you did,” she said faintly. She shook her head, her brain cataloging his injuries. “Listen, have you got a doctor? You really ought to get those looked at.” She gestured to the many bruises littering his body.
“Nah, I’ll be fine,” Rogers said. “I can patch myself up - “ He pushed himself off the wall, and abruptly staggered. Harry caught him, opening her mouth.
This was a very, very bad idea. Harry knew that, but she also knew that she couldn’t, in good conscience, let Rogers go about his merry way with potential injuries worse than bruises.
“Do you live near here?” she asked. “I haven’t got any medical supplies on me, but I’m a doctor. I can look you over if you want.”
Rogers looked at her, startled. He’d turned bright red at her touch, but looked a tad woozy. “Uh, yeah, but -”
“I wasn’t giving you a choice,” Harry said firmly. “Lead the way, Mr. Rogers.”
He wilted in the face of her stubborn look. “I live, uh, right around the corner,” he mumbled. “And it’s Steve.”
“Pleasure,” Harry said briskly, slinging one of Steve’s arms over her shoulder. “Name’s Harry Evans.”
Steve didn’t even blink at the traditionally male name, which Harry was pleasantly surprised by.
“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” Steve said automatically as they made their way out of the alley.
Harry made a face. “Please, call me Harry,” she grimaced. “‘Ma’am’ makes me feel old.”
“O-okay.”
They hobbled to Steve’s apartment, Steve fumbling with the key.
“It’s not much,” he said apologetically, sending her a nervous look as he opened the door.
Harry rolled her eyes. “Have you got running water?”
“Uh - yeah.”
“Clean bandages?”
“Yes?”
“Painkillers?”
“... Yes.”
“Then I really couldn’t give less of a damn about where you live,” Harry said frankly. She looked around Steve’s apartment. It was small, yes, more box than anything, but it was cozy. She closed the door behind them and eased him over to the couch.
Steve was staring at her with wide eyes.
“What?”
“Uh - nothing,” he flushed, looking away.
Harry gave him an odd look, then dismissed it. “Take off your shirt.”
Steve choked on air, going bright red. He stammered something incoherently.
Harry sighed. “So I can get a better look at your injuries, Steve,” she said, suppressing a fond smile. “I’m not trying to seduce you.”
“Sorry,” Steve said nervously. “I didn’t think you were, I was just nervous because I’ve never had a woman over before and you’re really pretty and - uh, I’ll stop talking now.” He pulled off his shirt, avoiding her gaze.
Harry’s smile broke free. “I’m flattered,” she grinned. “But as interesting as our current conversation is, I really do have to take a look at you, especially your ribs.”
She gave him a thorough examination, pressing down lightly on his ribs and checking for his reactions. He winced a bit, but she couldn’t find anything indicating a cracked rib or worse, so she moved on to a neurological exam to check if he’d had a concussion. Along the way, she produced a cloth and bottle of normal saline from her purse to clean the dirt off his bruises and scrapes.
“Everything looks to be in order,” she said when she was done. “Just try not to get into any more fights in the future, yeah?”
Steve frowned at her. “Jim and his buddies were talking badly about a lady.”
Harry blinked. She’d thought they’d just been beating Steve up for the hell of it. She couldn’t condone fighting, and yet…
She exhaled. “I don’t like people like that either,” she said. Understatement of the year, that was. “But… at least try to be careful?”
Steve grinned at her, surprise lighting up his eyes. “I will. Wouldn’t want your hard work to go to waste.”
Harry laughed. “Thanks.” She checked her watch. She really should be heading back - it was getting late, and she hadn’t had dinner yet. She rose to her feet.
“Wait,” Steve blurted out. “I haven’t - I haven’t paid you yet.”
Her smile abruptly turned into a frown. “I didn’t help you because I wanted money,” she told him firmly.
Steve still looked torn. “But - how can I repay you?”
Harry was about to respond when her stomach grumbled. She flushed as Steve’s eyes lit up.
“I can make you dinner!” he said eagerly. “I’m a pretty okay cook, if - if that’s okay with you?” Eyes wide, he hurriedly backpedaled.
Harry hesitated. Steve was staring up at her imploringly, and something inside her softened at the look of his wide blue eyes. Besides, when was the last time she’d had a home-cooked meal?
“Alright,” she said, and Steve grinned victoriously.
~
They ended up making a simple stew. Harry helped as best she could - she was a rather good cook when she wanted to be, she just hated doing it, for some reason - and it was done in record time. They sat down at the table, and Steve kept on shooting her nervous looks as she raised the spoon to her mouth. She sipped at it, and her eyes widened.
“This is delicious!” she exclaimed, and Steve visibly relaxed, flashing her a shy smile.
“It was my Ma’s old recipe,” he said. “I’m glad you like it.”
“I love it,” Harry said emphatically. “Pass on my thanks, would you?”
Steve looked away. “She, uh, she passed away.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry - I’ve really put my foot in my mouth, haven’t I?”
He gave her a small smile, to her relief. “It’s okay. You didn’t know. It was years ago, anyway.” He paused, clearly wanting to change the subject. “Not to assume, or anything, but, uh, you don’t really sound like you’re from around here.”
Harry smiled. “No, I’m not. I’m from Oxford - I moved here a few months ago to help out with something.”
Steve raised his eyebrows. He’d gotten more comfortable with her as time had passed, telling her about his wish to join the army. “‘Something?’”
“A government project,” Harry explained. “I’m sorry, but it’s rather secret. I really can’t say more.”
“Huh.” Steve’s eyebrows climbed higher up his forehead. He looked impressed. “Sounds like you’re doing some good work over there.”
Harry averted her eyes, feeling herself turn pink. “I hope so,” she sighed. “Unfortunately, we’re in a bit of a pickle at the moment. I was trying to take a walk, earlier, to clear my head.”
“And then you had to break up a fight and take care of me,” Steve said glumly. “Sorry about that.”
Harry prodded him playfully. “Hey, none of that, now. I don’t regret meeting you at all, Steve - in fact, I’ve rather enjoyed spending this time with you.”
And she had. Once Steve had gotten over his nerves, he was sweet and fun to talk to, making the occasional joke that had her laughing every time. He was truly, genuinely kind - something she was surprised by.
Steve turned pink. Harry had also found that she rather loved making him blush. It was cute.
“I don’t regret meeting you either,” he said shyly. “And not just because I’d have probably ended up beaten up in a back alley otherwise.”
Harry laughed. “I thought you had ‘em on the ropes?” she teased.
Steve shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Did I say that?”
~
Eventually, though, it was time for her to go. Harry waved off Steve’s attempts to see her home - she lived in bloody Queens, it was ridiculous - and hailed a cab, flashing him a smile over her shoulder. He watched her get in, an expression on his face that she couldn’t read, and then the cab turned the corner, and he was gone.