Saturdays. They're just the best days. I've decided that today, this Saturday, will be a great day. How, you may ask? I can answer that in three words: Doctor Who marathon. Boom. Mic drop.

I'm not leaving the house today. I'm going to stay in my TARDIS pajama pants, my long sleeve 'Keep calm and call the Doctor' pajama shirt, and my fuzzy dalek socks all day. Feeling especially brave, I'm also going to attempt to make some Jammie Dodgers whilst enjoying the exploits of my favorite extraterrestrial.

I've just made it to the bit in the Shakespeare episode where he's about to shout 'Expelliarmus', when there's a knock on my door. With a great huff, I pause my DVD and move to open the door. Before I do so, I think better of it and check the peephole first. I wasn't expecting Steve today and I don't get any other visitors.

Though the view is rather distorted, I can make out that it's a woman with short red hair. She looks to be a bit older than me but not by much. I have no idea who she is and I don't see anyone else in the hall. Unfortunately, since I wasn't quiet in walking to the door, I'm positive that she knows that I'm home. Not answering is no longer an option because I suffer from a chronic case of 'irrational embarrassment'.

'You doofus.'

With another huff, I open my door halfway, giving a small smile, which quickly becomes stiff as I realize that there's a man with her. He had been standing off to the side, out of range of the peephole. It's far enough away that I can tell he did it on purpose.

When the redhead sees me she brightens and begins right away, "Hi! We're looking for Steve Rogers." She's a couple inches shorter than me and beautiful. Stunning, would be a better word for her looks, actually.

"Okay." After a pause I understand that she meant that as a question. "This isn't his apartment."

"Oh, we know. But we were wondering if you could help us?" She keeps her tone happy but not overzealous with the pep. Her smile reminds me of something from 'The Stepford Wives'.

"Have you tried his apartment?" I'm disinclined to be helpful to those who disrupt one of my favorite parts of one of my favorite shows.

"Of course, but he isn't home. You wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?" She is neither too friendly nor not friendly enough. She is just perfectly in the middle, not at all put off my brusqueness.

I don't like it.

"I'm sorry, who did you say you are?" I know she didn't introduce herself but she should have.

The man, who had remained silent until now, takes a step closer. I instinctively shift so that my shoulder and hip are behind the door, making it that much easier and faster for me to throw my weight against it if I need to close and lock it in a hurry. Buzzing on adrenaline - I lead a sad life, this is cause for great excitement for me - I notice the redhead's mouth twitch as I shifted, making me think that she caught my intentions. "How thoughtless of us. I'm so sorry, we're friends of Steve." He's about five inches taller than me and fairly good looking, maybe in his late thirties. His smile has a hint of impishness and he seems much more playful than the woman.

He offers me his hand.

"Sorry," I decline. "But you caught me in the middle of baking. I have jam on my hands." My hands are both hidden behind the door and the wall so they can't see that I've told a half-truth. Yes, I was baking but my hands are perfectly clean; however, I'm not putting my arm through that doorway. It didn't escape my notice that even though he 'introduced' himself and the redhead, he didn't give their names. There's something...off about these two.

I find myself mentally singing, 'Suspicion, suspicion!' to the tune of 'Tradition'.

His eyes sparkle. "Not at all, sorry for interrupting you. But do you know where Steve is?"

"Have you tried his phone?" I'll admit that I'm being a bit difficult in not answering their questions on purpose. They're hiding something and I don't like it.

"Yes, but he must've turned it off." The redhead answers this time. "Normally we wouldn't bother him like this, but he's a really close friend of ours and we have to talk to him about something important. Unfortunately, we have no idea where he could be. We thought, since he's talked to us about you before-" 'What?'  "-that you would know where we can find him." She finishes with another perfect smile.

"He's talked to you about me?" I ask slowly.

"Oh yes. You are Anne, aren't you?" The man asks, a small smirk about his mouth.

'Why would he talk to them about me but not tell me a single thing about them? And how is it that they seem to work so smoothly together? It almost feels practiced...'

Accepting that they know much more than I thought they did, I feel wildly uncomfortable and I try to get out of this situation. "Yes, I'm Anne. But I'm afraid you must've misunderstood." I shake my head and add a shrug, trying to keep their attention at my head so I can grab the metal pipe that I keep by the front door without them noticing the movement. "Steve is a rather private person, fairly used to keeping secrets, I guess, and I don't know him as well as you two. Since you are such close friends, I'm sure you must have a better idea of where to find him." I can't help the bit of sarcasm that shades that last sentence. "But if he comes back before you do find him, I can tell him you were looking for him. What names should I give him?"

There's a subtle shift in the redhead's demeanor, from friendly to predatory. I take it that she caught on to the fact that I knew they wouldn't give me their real names. She looks at me like I'm worth a second glance.

'Okay, she's super scary. Steve, you can come home any time now, that'd be great, thanks.'

"Just tell him what we looked like, he'll know who you mean."

I nod without questioning her further. They could be his friends, but they could also be enemies of Captain America and that's friggin' terrifying. I just want them to go away.

They don't go away.

"How well do you know Steve?" the man asks.

"Well enough." My grip on the pipe tightens. Mentally, I'm calculating how quickly I can secure the door, grab my phone, and call the police.

There isn't anything overtly threatening about them, but there is something...something they're letting show through their pretense of innocuousness...and although it's only a whisper, it's strong enough to shout to my survival instincts. I shift my shoulders, drawing slightly back the arm that grips the pipe and leaning my opposite shoulder into the door. As subtly as I can, preparing for a fight, though I know I couldn't last against these two.

Then, as quickly as it came, the threat was gone. They were all amiability once more. "Well, we're sorry to have bothered you. Thanks so much for your help!" she says as they walk away.

I immediately shut and bolt my door and wedge a chair under the knob. My hands are shaking. I drop onto my couch, still clutching the pipe.

'What in the world just happened? Should I call Steve?'

I really don't know where he is. For all I know, he could be half-way across the country, fighting some supervillian for truth and justice and stuff. Or maybe he popped out for a dipped cone. I can wait until he gets back. I'll be fine. Right?

I try to get my breathing back to normal. After a few moments, I laugh. 

I'm still in my Doctor Who pajamas.

≈o≈

It isn't until after eleven that night that I hear Steve in the hall, unlocking his door. I leap from the couch. After dragging away the chair from under the knob and unbolting the door, I throw it open.

Steve immediately whirls to face me, his arms up in a fighter's stance. As soon as he sees that it's just me, he relaxes and drops his fists. "Oh, hey Anne. You surprised me."

He looks so exhausted, not injured (at least not that I can see), but absolutely wiped. "Hey Steve."' I wrap my arms across my chest.

Concern bubbles up in Steve's eyes. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." I decide not to tell him how scared I was. He doesn't need to worry about me. "How about you?"

He loosens up a bit at my words. "I'm fine. Long day," he says with a tired smile.

"I'm glad you're okay." I return his smile. "Um, some of your eh, 'friends', came looking for you today..."

I instantly have his attention.

"Who was it? Did they give you a name? Did they bother you at all?" He looks me over with a new energy, searching for any evidence of injury.

"They didn't give me names, just said that you'd know who they were if I told you what they looked like. There was a woman and a man. The woman was shorter than me, with red hair, and she was stunning. The man was taller than me, but still shorter than you, with light brown hair. They-" 'I can't tell him they were scary...he'd worry' "-they seemed friendly enough, if rather intimidating." '"Deadly", would be more accurate.'

His eyes flashed in annoyance as he sighs and briefly hangs a hand from the back of his neck. "It would be them. I'm sorry they bothered you, Anne."

'I guess he does know them. And they must not be too bad if he doesn't seem concerned that they were here.'

I won't tell him that it's fine, because it really isn't. "Don't worry about it," I say instead. "But-"

"But what?"

"Well, they knew my name..."

He looks confused for only a moment then he turns angry, doing that whole 'jutting jaw' thing. I've never seen Steve angry. He was merely miffed at Mr. Stark before. This is something else entirely. It's a bit frightening. I don't understand why he's so upset.

Steve crosses the hall and puts his hands on his hips. "What exactly did they say to you?"

I tell him as well as I can remember, although I leave out the parts where I was scared and had grabbed the pipe. But I make sure to tell him how creepy they were being. Even if he does think of them as friends they were certainly hiding something from me - maybe they're hiding something from him too.

"How did you pick up so easily onto what they were thinking?" By his impressed expression, I gather that my suspicions were correct for the most part.

"Being the quiet one lends itself to the development of the ability to observe. It doesn't hurt that I've watched a lot of 'Lie to Me' and 'Sherlock'...They aren't dangerous, are they?" I'm not sure I want to know what the answer is.

"Well," he thinks about his words. "They won't hurt you. I think, I think they just wanted to scope you out. Make sure that you aren't hiding something."

'Okay, so they are dangerous and, um, what?'

"Why would they want to do that? I'm like Earth in 'The Hitch-hiker's Guide to the Galaxy' – mostly harmless." I'm lost here.

Steve sighs. "It's in their nature to be nosy and protective. But you don't have to worry about them bothering you again. I'll talk with them about this." He finishes with a tight jaw. "Now, are you sure you're okay? I know how uncomfortable talking to strangers can make you feel."

I'm not okay. I'm still scared and not just for me. What kind of people is Steve hanging out with?

'Well, Iron Man, for one. That's more than enough reason for concern right there.'

Could they be other members of the Avengers?... They seemed too purposefully scary towards someone completely innocent to be superheroes. Then again my basis for superhero morality is Steve, and he's a golden boy. I'd be surprised if anyone, superheroes included, measured up against him.

I look back to Steve who's still waiting to hear if I'm okay. I know he'd do whatever he could to make me feel better and to make sure I'm never bothered again if I tell him everything I'm thinking. But I also know that he has so many other, infinitely more important things that he needs to be focused on.

"Don't worry about me, Steve." I force a smile and hug myself tighter.