I wanted to write Steve Rogers...Anyway, have a weird coffeeshop + betrayed!Harry au with some surprises thrown in.

Pairing: Steve/Harry

Takes place after the The Avengers movie (the first one).

Steve Rogers never thought he'd end up in a place like this. Five blocks from his usual gym, tucked into a corner, stood a building made of old brown brick. The windows were dark and grimy and splatters of graffiti framed the black door. If you squinted, you could find the name of the place among the spraypainted words.

"Marauders Hideaway."

And under that the short description, "coffee, tea, books, bad company." Honestly, Steve would have passed it the first time, if he hadn't been desperate for caffeine after an all night workout.

That first time he went inside, it took him a minute to get his composure. The interior was full of dark wood tables, mismatched velvet chairs, and bookshelves that lined two of the walls. The dim lighting wrapped everything in dense shadows. Soft music drifted through the air, originating from a sleek black piano in the corner. Steve eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw no one seated at the playing bench.

"Yo, dude, you gonna order or what?" Steve had been startled by the woman working at the small counter near the front. Her black hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she had more piercings and makeup than bare skin. He was still too caught up in the piano to think twice about her unconventional appearance.

"Your piano's playing itself." He said. It sounded just as dumb out loud. The girl gave him a look that suggested she thought the same.

"Yeah, duh. That's why it's called a 'player piano', already has the player." She said. "You gonna order?"

Steve relaxed at that. Player pianos had been around before his own time. It was strange to see one in action. The black and white ivories pushed down by some invisible force as the mechanics worked their magic.

He stepped up to the counter where the girl had been. She'd moved to work one of the machines behind it. Steve was greeted with a chuckle from large bald man with a bright red handlebar mustache.

"Sorry about Miranda, take your time."

The menu was short and Steve contained his sigh of relief. He really didn't want to navigate through the perils of modern beverages. He ordered a simple coffee with cream.

It hadn't been a worthwhile experience until he sat in one of the chairs. The patrons of the Marauder's Hideaway were unique. Not once was he approached for an autograph. No one even looked twice at Captain America sipping his coffee at the corner table.

He had gotten used to putting on a disguise to go out, but had forgot to grab one before his workout. The public had been swarming the Avengers since the Chitauri invasion. Media and fans were something only Tony could handle. Heck, Tony welcomed the autographs, interviews and photo-ops. Steve couldn't say he was the same. He was a soldier, not a celebrity. The 21st century clumped him in with the rest anyway. Anything and everything was under a spotlight.

Yet here, in this little coffee shop with chipped brick walls and bizarre baristas, he was close to anonymous. Everyone who came to the secluded spot seemed too caught up in themselves to care. Most of the customer sat alone or in close groups, reading, whispering, or even sleeping. There were a few folks with computers, consumed wholly in the digital world. No one here cared about much of anything.

Captain America would hate these people. People who had clearly turned their back on the world and humanity. Those who disregarded everything for the sake of themselves. However, normal Steve found it a relief. No talks of weapons or aliens or international relations. No press. No crowds. No cares. No worries. Just bad company.

It was perfect.

So, he became a regular at the Hideaway.

He turned, slowing his jogging steps. His trainers crunched autumn's leaf deposits underfoot. The strong smell of coffee and herbs entered his nose when he opened the door. Steve couldn't hold back a smile at the place that was quick to become his escape. Despite the amount of space ,the new Avenger's Tower overwhelmed him with it's modern design. On top of that, one of the others always lurked nearby. Steve got along with all the Avengers, but he needed somewhere to get away from the big personalities. The Marauders Hideaway was all his.

"Hey, guy." Miranda greeted him with her glare from behind black eyeshadow. She didn't use his name, despite writing on all the cups he ordered. "Do you want the usual, or are you gonna be interesting?"

"The usual, please." Steve said and she let out a huff. He didn't mind, he knew he was predictable. Taking comforts in routines got him through the harder days. He didn't think the girl was a problem either. Sure, she was impolite, but it wasn't just to him. Her everpresent rude demeanor had gotten familiar by now. He wouldn't spend any extra time in Miranda's company, but he could bare with her for the time it took to get his coffee.

The Captain picked up from the other barista, who he had learned was named Mike. The man was more friendly, but Steve hadn't found anything they had in common, so their conversations were short lived.

Sipping from the mouth-burning liquid, he surveyed the seating areas. All the tables were already claimed by at least one person. Steve guessed it was the hour, as he hadn't come at his usual time. "Too early for the birds and the bees" as Stark would say. Though Iron Man's own sleep schedule consisted of nothing more than short naps between working. Sometimes days would go by before Banner noticed and put him on a rest lockdown.

Steve was content to sip at his coffee while leaning against the bricks. His eyes drifting over the patrons of the Hideaway, cataloguing them, but not focusing on anyone in particular. Steve liked to believe that everyone had some good in them, and deserved a chance to choose it before he labeled them as something bad. That being said, the people he observed here didn't have any visible admirable qualities. Nor did they have any overly immoral ones. Everyone here was comfy in neutrality, at least, in the confines of a place that accepted that.

As he scanned the room he found the spot he'd held in all his other visits. It was a tan armchair in the corner by the front windows. A perfect place to view the entire room as well as the outside entrance. His eyebrows raised when he saw the person seated there staring at him with some sort of interest.

It was a male, early twenties, would be short if he stood. Black hair that looked like it tried to escape from his head. Green eyes. Too green. Steve concluded the man wore contacts, because no eyes were that bright of a color naturally. And the Marauder's Hideaway attracted many different kinds of appearance choices.

Something else stood out about his eyes. They held the sunken look that Steve had only seen on soldiers in the war. But they contained no gleam, no fire. Though the rest of him expressed a relaxed and content state, the eyes were as good as dead.

The seated man lowered his hands from where he had been holding a teacup to his mouth. He kept his eye contact with Steve and pointed at the chair across from him at the small table. His lips mouthed the word "sit".

Steve didn't want to reject the offer, it wouldn't be polite. Besides, the young man seemed interesting. So, he settled into the peach armchair that had been pointed out to him, setting his coffee on the table. It unnerved the soldier to have his back to the room, but he was sure he could handle anything that happened. Not that he expected anything too.

"Thank you." He said with a nod to the man, who had started to sip his tea again.

"You're welcome Mr. America." The man said with a british accent and a teasing smile. Steve shrugged away the wince and tried to make small talk with his table partner.

"Just Steve is fine. What can I call you?"

"Why would I be able to control what you call me? You can do whatever you like." He said. Steve narrowed his gaze at that. What was this guy playing at?

"What would you like me to call you?" He asked, the polite words now held a colder tone. Steve gripped his coffee cup in one hand, with the other under the table, closer to his concealed weapon. He didn't think this was a ploy to go after Captain America, but it didn't hurt to be guarded. Besides, he hated being mocked.

"Harry. That is my name."

Steve nodded and looked down at his coffee and then out the window. Anywhere but the dead expressionless eyes and face too blank for comfort. Harry took this as an invitation to continue talking.

"What's your opinion on cats?" He asked.

"What?" Steve asked with true confusion, looking back up at him. Because, really, what kind of question was that? This Harry got more bizarre every minute he sat with him.

"I read your biography." Here, Steve did wince. His dreams of escaping fans in the Hideaway were crushed. He didn't know what this Harry wanted, but that sentence alone had soured his mood.

"But they didn't cover any important things." Harry continued.

"And how I feel about cats is important?" He asked, half amused, but still holding onto his annoyance.

Harry lean forward over the table. Steve sucked in a breath as those eyes grew closer. Black strands of hair, jostled by the movement, fell to obscure the pure green irises. Steve felt as tense as he did before a mission.

"More than anything." Harry whispered. He plopped back down into the tan velvet like nothing unusual had occurred. A tiny smile on his lips still aimed at Steve.

Said super soldier let out a breath and a laugh fell out with it. He couldn't believe he'd been about to tag this guy as dangerous. He was just another weird addition to the shop. Another person who didn't feel comfortable going anywhere else. And he tried to make casual conversation. Steve couldn't pinpoint how he knew, maybe it was the words, maybe the tone, but he could tell Harry acted to make him comfortable. In his own way.

"I don't particularly like cats." He said. The smile on Harry's face bloomed into a stunning grin. Steve didn't know how or if he was the cause, but he smiled back all the same.

"I don't prefer them either." He said, grin never wavering.

"Well now that I've answered the most important question, I believe we have a predicament." Steve said.

"It's not the most important anymore." Harry replied with a wave of his hand.

"Oh? Then what is?" He asked.

"Castles, of course. Would you ever live in one?"

"Of course." He echoed with his amusement showing full force.

Harry proved to be enjoyable company, despite the shop's advertising otherwise. It was the most eccentric conversation Steve had engaged in all week, and that said something considering who he lived with. They chatted about topics ranging from cleaning to invisibility to owls. Harry never stayed on one topic too long, though he seemed to grow more excited as Steve continued to answer and ask questions. The topics seemed to mean something, to Harry at least, Steve just went along with the random choices.

It was nice to be able to keep up with the conversation. Despite Harry flitting between whatever he saw fit to mention, Steve never felt lost on what they were talking about. The Avengers, despite being his friends, got tired of having to explain different aspects of modern life to him.

Except Thor, who split his time between Earth and Asgard, leaving for weeks and then showing up for lunch as if he never did. Steve understood him the least out of his team, but they had the struggle of adjusting in common.

He was better than when he first came out of the ice, but every time he grasped something, another four topics he didn't understand showed themselves. The reading and training S.H.I.E.L.D provided helped. There was just a mountain of things different from the past he'd left behind. Harry didn't mention anything about technology or current affairs, he just chattered on about mythical animals and impossible situations.

"Are you sure you'd never make friends with a dragon?" Harry asked.

"I've never met a dragon and I don't plan on it." He answered.

"Hn. I don't think you will."

They both jumped when Steve's phone buzzed. He brought the piece of plastic out of his jacket and checked the screen. Few people had the untraceable number, and all of them demanded answers immediately. He sent an apologetic smile to Harry, who shrugged it off.

"Hey Stars n' Stripes, where'd you run off too?" Tony's voice wafted through the speaker like a bad smell. The other man always knew how to push Steve's buttons, even whe he wasn't trying too. When he was trying, well...

"I'm fine, just getting coffee." He said into the receiver before he got lost in thought.

"Really? Thought you'd be awake by now... Anyway, It's lunch time and Fury's showing himself around our humble abode."

That couldn't be right… Steve took the phone away from his ear to check the time. 12:00?! That meant he'd been sitting here and talking to Harry for nearly four hours. Where had the time gone?

"Yeah. I'll be there in a minute." He told Tony. Hanging up before the inevitable snarky reply came.

Harry sipped his tea, looking to be ignoring the one-sided conversation he could hear. He smiled when Steve hung up, not bothered by the abrupt end of their conversation.

"Sorry, I have to go. Thank you for the company, Harry." He said as he stood. The coffee had long gone cold and he tossed it in the can. Steve tensed when a hand grabbed his forearm. A look down told him that Harry had followed him. He felt himself being tugged down and moved to face the other man. Harry let the mischief return to his smile.

"We'll meet again, Steve." He said. Steve did nothing but nod. His voice had gone away with those eyes so close once more. He watched as Harry walked out the door and away. Shaking the rest of the unease at that stare off, Steve made his way back to the tower. Thoughts of green eyes and their owner faded with Fury's meeting.

He didn't know that accepting the seat that day would soon come to be his greatest mistake.

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