Date: July 24/12
Fandom: Harry Potter/Avengers Crossover
Pairing: Harry Potter/Steve Rogers (Cpt. America)
Warning: This story will contain male/male relationships, including intimacy ranging from light kissing to possible sex. Swearing, and descriptions of violence and gore also possible.
Disclaimer: I do not own either fandom or their associated characters; this is a fan piece and not written for profit.
Earl Grey and Apple Pie.
It was raining again; it seemed as though no matter where in the world you lived, April was the time for rain. Thick, fat drops splashed against the pavement outside the windows, and against passing people and cars. They rolled down the glass in individual droplets or rivulets, meeting and disengaging. It was a fairly light rain, meaning it would likely go on for a while, not having enough force behind it to be spent quickly.
Harry hummed and turned from the scene outside his shop's front window, going back to stocking the shelves with books. Music played softly from behind the wooden counter; forties blues and jazz that somehow made his toes curl and his spine tingle. Even in this modern time the mementoes of time long since passed were more a siren's call to him than anything the world had managed to create in the last fifty years.
The bell above the shop door chimed softly and he turned atop the ladder to peer around the shelf at his newest customer. While the shop wasn't rundown by any means, he kept it homey and small, without the loud colours and music of modern book stores. His selection was different as well. He catered more to older books and tomes than to new trends. Harry did pride himself on the large section dedicated to cooking and pastries though; though spawning from what he now understood to be abuse, the brunette had somehow cultivated a deep love of food and cooking.
"I'll be just a moment!" He called, attempting the balance the box of books on one arm and seek fairly safe passage back down the precariously steep ladder.
"Take your time, I'm in no rush." The smooth baritone that answered him was calm and distracted.
Harry felt a light flush decorate his cheeks, and managed to stutter out some acceptable response before hurriedly stocking the rest of the books in his grasp. He didn't usually flush like a tomato from an offhand greeting. And by usually, he meant never. He scurried back down the ladder and plopped the box down beside the ladder's feet, intending to deal with the offending piece of cardboard later. He ran a hand through his messy black hair and unconsciously fidgeted with the collar of his oversized red sweater. No matter how well off he had become after the fallout in England and the years of peace after, he still preferred large and comfortable clothing to anything remotely fashionable. His one indulgence had been his eyes though. After so many years being held hostage his dingy old frames, being able to defend himself without them and being pitifully blind within a moment's notice, he had finally gone ahead and had his vision corrected magically. Normally the procedure made no outward appearance to the patient's eyes, leaving them the same hue and brightness as before. For Harry, without any plausible explanation, his eyes had become as bright as fresh grass. While he had previously owned a vibrant green pair of orbs, matching those of his late mother, the hue had brightened to an eye catching shade. It took time, but he had eventually come to terms with the colour change.
He rounded the shelf and looked at the first customer of the afternoon. He was a tall man, likely six foot three or four, with rather broad shoulders and arms to match. His slim waist tapered down into strong hips atop long, lean legs clad in light coloured jeans. He wore a windbreaker, now thoroughly soaked with the afternoon's showers, and runners on his feet. Hearing his footsteps, the customer turned his way.
And Harry honestly lost his breath.
The man's eyes were a pale and vibrant blue, standing out among dark lashes, pale brows, and high cheekbones. His nose was long and pointed, with dark, plump lips below. A slightly dimpled chin matched a dazzling dimpled smile that framed perfectly straight, white teeth. His hair was cut conservatively short, but with enough length to rustle in the wind, the colour matching the pale yellowed-blonde of his brows that came with time in the sun.
He was dazzling, and Harry doubted the man even knew it, if how he stood was any indication.
"I was directed here by a colleague of mine; he suggested that you had copies of old, hard to find books...?" His voice turned up at the end, as though the man didn't was to presume, but was hopeful all the same.
"I do, though it depends on what it is that you're searching for. If I don't have it already in stock, I can take a look and try to obtain it for you." Harry gave the man a small, shy smile.
The stranger's smile intensified, until his white grin was almost painful to look at.
Oh hell, Harry thought. Here goes any dignity I might have accumulated in my entire life.
He sent back a smile of his own, and prepared for the shy stutter and fumbling hands he had only been too happy to see go.
I realize this is only a short, teaser type chapters, but after being absent from writing for such a long time, I felt anything more could be dangerous. I would also like to see if there is any interest in this crossover/pairing (other than my own).
Reviews are very much appreciated, and help me construct future chapters and relationships. I have art with this pairing, and would be willing to share it at a later date (once I can be bothered to upload it with credit to the amazing artist).
Also, on another note, this chapter was written in one go, without editing or beta-ing, in a tangent/stream of consciousness style.