First of All: Thanks so much for reading! This is my first fic, so all support is appreciated!

EDIT: I am just getting used to the site, so I will be making changes! I changed the title of the story, as well as the chapter title, otherwise, it's pretty much the same.

EDITED 7/25/2013: Some added content, and fixed typos.

Disclaimer: Steve, is not Mine. But Harper is! I bow down to the Marvel Cinematic Universe that created the Avengers, and give them all the credit! Except Harper's mine. There will be other new characters as well, but for now, meet Harper!

"Hi! What can I get you?" The perky teenage barista smiled brightly at the customer in front of her, not really taking him in…at first. Steve craved those moments, the moments of unfamiliarity, where he was just another face in a sea of people. Those moments never lasted very long, and he sighed regretfully as the current one faded and the stunned look overcame the barista's face before it switched almost instantly into what Bruce had jokingly titled "fan rage."

"Oh my GOD!" The teen screamed, loudly, shocking the others in the small café, but not Steve, as screaming was a symptom of "fan rage." "Steve Rogers! Captain America! I cannot BELIEVE it! In the flesh! It is just SO GOOD to meet you! I can't believe you're actually here!" Steve sighed again, this time internally, as the teen continued to gush. He just wanted a coffee. That's it. Coffee.

He pulled out his "media" smile as she continued to spout compliments, discreetly glancing at his watch and ignoring the sound of cell phone cameras going off. He was going to be late to his meeting.

"AHEM." A large throat clear, from behind Steve caused the barista to pause. Steve turned to see who interrupted the gushing, surprised. One rarely interrupted a fan rage, instead opting to join in. The "rage" was quite contagious.

The throat clearer stood right behind him. Short, was his first thought. Female, was his second, young, being the third. The petite, 5 foot 4 teen (MAYBE,) stood in a belligerent pose, hip cocked, arms crossed, foot tapping anxiously. Her brown, Hispanic coloring was flushed, as if she were angry, but her dark brown eyes held frustration as well as a glint, albeit a small one, of humor. She raised a brow at Steve before addressing the barista. "We get it, you're both pretty, can we please hurry this up? I have places to be."

The Barista frowned. "Do you know who this is?" Her hand fell automatically to her hip, and she pointed to Steve, her voice incredulous.

The teen furrowed her brow and glanced at Steve again. He waited for another case of "Fan Rage".

She shook her head. "He looks like someone in dire need of coffee. Probably takes it with two sugars, no creamer. You should get on that." She winked at Steve.

Steve was shocked. A female, impervious to the rage? Miracles did happen.

The barista glared. "This is Cap," She began haughtily, but was cut off.

"Pretty sure I don't care. I just need coffee." The teen interrupted.

The rest of the crowd in the small café was silent, taking in the exchange.

The barista didn't move. The teen sighed. "Fine. I guess I don't need a coffee. It'll stunt my growth anyway." She turned to leave, having to squeeze through the people who didn't seem to be able to move. About halfway to the door, another customer ran in, shoving her onto the floor. She jumped back up quickly.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, JERK!" The guy who'd shoved her turned to face her, and Steve vaguely saw her tense for a fight. What caught most of his attention though, was the gun the guy pulled out of his jacket and pointed at the girl.

Her eyes widened, and out of her own accord her hands flew up in a gesture of surrender. "But really, if that's your thing, I mean, it's totally cool. So, Uh, I'll just…go."

"Don't move!" The guy, wearing dark jeans, and a black jacket with the hood obscuring his face screamed as people panicked and fled away from the man with the gun. "Nobody move!"

"Okay. Okay. We're not going to move. We're going to stay right where we are." The girls eyes flew to Steve's, and with unspoken understanding, he slowly began to move towards the guy, who had his back turned as he faced the girl. "What do you want?"

"Keys." The guy turned to face the front, Steve stopping in his tracks, still not close enough to reach him. "Lady, give me the keys!" He shook the gun at the barista, screaming.

The barista, crying now, walked around to the other side of the counter, keys in hand. The guy ran forward and grabbed the girl, wrenching the keys from her hand and pulling her to him, effectively trapping her. She shrieked as the gun made its way to her temple. "Anyone moves without my permission, I kill her." Steve bit back a frustrated growl. Now what?

The guy, threw the keys to the teen, who stood in the center of the café, alone now. The rest of the occupants were huddled as close to the wall as they could, creating an aisle. "Lock the doors. Now!"

The teen caught the keys in one hand, nodding slowly. She gave Steve a look he didn't understand before she turned to lock up.

She tried one key, fumbling with them nervously, then another. Her nervousness didn't make sense paired with her earlier calmness, but then Steve understood. She was stalling. But for what?

The guy, whose hood had fallen back to reveal wild brown eyes, unkempt hair and a five oh clock shadow became increasingly frustrated with every second that passed.

"This key is being difficult, I just can't seem to get it locked…Got it. Wait, no, just kidding. Don't worry, I'll get it, just a second…." The girl monologued, pausing when the key ring fell from her hands. "Oops." She bent to pick them up, but the man had had enough.

"I'll do it myself!" he threw the barista that he'd been holding into Steve, rushing forward and shoving the girl onto the ground again, grabbing the keys from her and attempting to lock the door himself, his gun down momentarily. Seeing her chance, the girl grabbed his wrist from her position on the ground, twisting it as she tried to get the man to drop the gun. He waved his arm in an attempt to dislodge her, his gun flying from his hand and crashing to the ground a few feet away from them. Without pause, the girl leapt after it, the man scrambling behind her, grabbing her ankle to slide her away. Before he could she flipped over, gun in hand, pointed at his head. "I would let go, if I were you." The man did, his hands in the air, much like hers had been minutes ago. She stood slowly, gun still trained on the guy, who suddenly started crying. Shaking her head in disgust, she handed the gun to Steve, who stood in shock, the barista clinging to him. She glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed. "Now I'm REALLY going to be late!"

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The police arrived within minutes, but wouldn't let anyone leave till over an hour later, after taking everyone's statements. Steve snuck out the back in an effort to avoid the press, and saw a like minded individual walking in the back alley about ten feet in front of him.

"Hey!" He ran forward to catch up as he saw the girl from the café. She looked back, and groaned when she saw who it was.

"You again! I can't talk now, I am seriously late, and I need to go."

"I just wanted to thank you for," Steve paused, not knowing what he wanted to thank her for, just feeling like he should.

"Not falling all over you like everyone else does? For doing your job for you? No thanks necessary, for the first because your ego needed a little deflating and for the second because I usually don't get to have that much fun before 9 am. Are we done now?"

Steve could've left then. He could've left her to her solitude, but for some reason, he didn't want the conversation to come to an end.

"Can I walk with you a bit? You have the right idea, walking back here. There's less…people."

"Press. You mean there are less press back here." She rephrased.

Steve shrugged, not denying it.

"Fine. "

She started walking, Steve falling into step beside her. He was already late, he reasoned. Besides, he was investigating.

"What's your name?"

The girl pulled her gray leather jacket tight against her, rolling her eyes at his question. "It's Harper. I'm 17, I am a senior in High school, and my favorite color's blue. Now that we have the awkward basic questions over with, what do you really want to know?"

He grinned, liking her honesty. "What you did in there…The majority of people panic under pressure, you had it totally under control. To be so calm in that situation for an adult is difficult. I'm impressed.

She shrugged, "Living on the streets, you learn to think on your feet. When four out of three people are packing guns, you figure out how to deal with crazy people carrying weapons."

"You're…Homeless?" Steve looked at her.

She looked clean. Her clothes were worn, for the most part, and her shoes needed some major insulation, but she didn't look like someone who "lived on the streets." Plus, she was a KID.

"Where are you parents?" He asked, at a loss.

"Nosy, aren't we?" She looked at him warily, assessing. When she seemed confident, of what he wasn't exactly sure, she answered.

"Never met my biological parents. Since as long as I can remember, I've been on the streets." There was a look in her eyes that made Steve think there was a lot more she wasn't telling him. "When I was nine, this guy took me in. Super nice, worked a lot, traveled a lot. But he made sure I went to school, that my needs were met, and when he wasn't working, he just treated me like his kid. He died three years ago. Been back on the streets ever since."

"But you go to school."

"I don't plan on staying on the streets. I have applied to colleges, I have some scholarships already, and I'm applying for more. I want to do more with my life. I'm going somewhere."

"That is beyond admirable." Steve complimented, meaning it. It had been a while since he gave a compliment he meant.

They had made it past the press, and were now out of the alleyway and back on the regular street. Steve put the hat he'd taken off in the café back on, along with a pair of sunglasses, and turned to look at Harper. He wanted to help her somehow, but anything he thought of to offer, he knew she wouldn't accept. Instead, he pulled out a receipt and pen from his pocket, (he always had a pen on him,) and wrote down his cell number.

"You need anything….anything at all, call me."

Harper took the paper, grudgingly. "I'll take the stupid paper," She said honestly, "But I won't use it."

Steve grinned. "Just in case."

Harper sniffed, and turned left. After a few feet she turned around, "I won't!"

Steve laughed, watching her walking away, blending into the rush of people before heading right.

Here it is! Chapter One! Please Review, but remember this is my first fic! Any ideas, constructive criticism, and love is appreciated, and eagerly anticipated! Chapter two is coming, and contains more AVENGERS! Woot Woot!