A/N: As you might have noticed, this isn't chapter forty-one. I'm being bullied by that jerk, Writer's Block, on a very specific part of what's coming up next and since it's been so long since I've updated, I figured I'd give you guys a sort of bonus chapter as a thank-you for hanging in there.

This is what was going to be chapter thirteen before I gutted it for the sake of  keeping things simple. It doesn't have a whole lot of our boy Steve, but if you like Anne, then...yay, because she's my character, but also because this is mostly her.

Anyway, the beginning italicized bit is the part that I kept and is serving as a sort of reminder here for you guys of the lead up.

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As I walk and sip my drink, I think again about everything that Steve had told me.

'I wonder if Peggy is still alive...Would he go see her if she was? It's obvious that he was in love with her...is he still?...'

The sound of clunking metal disrupts my thoughts. I look up from the pavement to see Iron Man has just landed in front of me. My cup freezes halfway to my lips.

"Anne," Tony's modified voice speaks through his mask. "You need to- what in the name of headgear is that?"

I glance up and remember that I'm wearing my orange knit creation. "It's a hat. I knit it myself. Sits pretty cunning, don't cha think?" I grin, absurdly pleased that I'm finally in this situation.

"Did you mean for it to turn out like that?"

"It looks exactly like I wanted it to! Haven't you seen 'Firefly'?"

"No," he answered flatly. "Anyway, you need to come to the tower. Right now." He sounds rushed now that he remembers why he came.

"What? Why? What's wrong?" My heart starts to pound.

"It's Steve."

≈o≈

"Tony, when you said it was Steve, I assumed that you meant he was hurt or in trouble, not that he didn't want to play with you." I stare flatly at the man before me.

"Hey! This is a bonding experience for the team and he didn't want to do it. The only thing I could think of to make him change his mind is you! He won't even answer his phone anymore when he sees that the call is coming from me or Bruce!" he defends, throwing his hands out in frustration.

Bruce groans from the couch across the room, muttering something about "no one wants to participate. It's just impossible to avoid when you live here."

"I was having a perfectly nice day walking through the park with my hot chocolate. You could've just asked me to call him from there! But no, you had to take me to the tower straight away, we couldn't even wait for a car, noooo, we had to fly!" I crinkle my nose at Stark.

This makes him smile. "It was urgent. I was getting bored."

I make another face. "You made me drop my hot chocolate for a playdate!"

"I'll have JARVIS make you a fresh cup once you call Steve." He tries to make puppy dog eyes but it isn't working very well.

"Fine. But just so we're clear, I'm not rewarding you for your bad behavior, I just want hot chocolate."

≈ Time skip ≈ *throws just enough glitter to be magical*

Apparently, Tony's idea of a "bonding experience" is going to a motocross exhibition. Yeah, it doesn't make any sense to me either. It was less boring than I thought it would be though.

Tony spent most of the time telling Bruce how he would modify the bikes to make certain tricks more impressive. I was sitting between Tony and Steve (I like to think of myself as a buffer) so I pretty much just had Steve to talk with. He seemed pretty interested in what was going on; I'm guessing that's at least partially because he rides a bike himself, and maybe he wanted to see if he could pick up something he could use in the field. I wouldn't be surprised.

It had started out fairly interesting with everyone zipping about, but I became progressively more bored as it wore on– everything started looking the same –and also a bit sick from my stomach clenching every time someone flew into the air. Finally, they were prepping for their last rider. I vaguely heard them announce something about his identity being a surprise that'd be revealed at the end.

'Meh. I won't recognize him anyway.'

By this time, I've started to subtly read a book that I had downloaded on my phone – I didn't want to seem too rude – so I'm not exactly paying attention to what's going on around me.

'It isn't my fault, once I start reading it takes something big to pull me out of it.'

I feel Tony nudge me with his elbow. I assume he accidently bumped me, so I scoot a bit away and ignore it. Then he knocks into my ribs, making me drop my phone onto the nasty bleacher floor.

"What's your major malfunction?" I hiss at him as I scramble for my phone.

'Five second rule, right?'

He merely smirks at me and nods towards the jumbotron thingy in the center of the stadium.

I glare at him again and then look to see what was so important, and I find myself looking at, well, myself. I'm on the jumbotron. My eyes bug out attractively and I'm immediately glad I had left my Jayne hat in the car. "What's going on?"

"They need an audience participant. They've picked you." Tony's smirk stains his words. Sensing that I'll just sit there until I spontaneously combust, he adds, "imagine how much more embarrassing it'll be for you if you stay here while everyone gets mad at you for refusing to participate."

I turn to glare at him again. "You turd bucket. Where do I go?"

Bruce points to the stairs that lead onto the dirt track.

'Swell,' I think as I make my way to certain humiliation. 'Why couldn't they pick someone who knows something about motocross, or someone who wasn't allergic to attention? I'm going to trip, fall on my face, and then get run over.'

I eventually make it to gate without incident. They let me in and some stagehand – 'are they a stagehand if there is no stage? What are they called?' – puts a hand on the small of my back and leads me to where I need to stand. I try not to cringe away from the stranger's touch.

When I get to the mound of dirt, there's someone with a microphone to greet me.

'They aren't going to make me talk into that, are they?'

"What's your name?" His voice booms through the sound system and he points the mic at me.

I swallow before saying, "Anne Johnson." I cringe as I hear my voice reverberate through the stadium.

"I take it you aren't much of a fan of motocross, Anne? Prefer to read?"

My face burns as I wonder how long I was on screen before Tony bothered to get my attention. This, in turn, makes me mad at Steve. Why didn't he do something?

Recalling the man's question, I just nod. The less I speak, the better.

"Well, that's all right, so long as you paid for your ticket." He laughs. I have no idea if Tony paid for my ticket. He could've just gotten us in with his Star(k) power. Ah, nervous puns are always my best material. "Anyway, you won't need to do much. Just stand where we tell you and Marcy here will tell you what to do." He hands me back to the lady that had walked me out here.

She takes me to some scaffolding where we both climb up to the top. It's easily three stories high and I won't lie, my knees wobble a bit. We're positioned in the dead space between two ramps. Marcy has me stand on an X that's too close to the unrailed edge for me to not feel sick.

"I can't do this. Heights don't usually bother me, but there's usually something between me and a tragic fall to my untimely splat."

Marcy ignores my protests and hands me a neon orange ball, about the size of a softball. "Just toss it up and straight out, underhand, when I say so."

"Wouldn't this be better if you used someone who had practiced this? I have severe stage fright. My armpits are damp and my hands are slippery. Seriously. I'm going to literally drop the ball, here."

"You'll be fine. Now get ready. It'll just be a moment now. And smile, you're still on the big screen."

'Great. I hope no one here knows how to read lips.'

I absently hear a dirt bike revving off to my right and my heart rate spikes.

"Here he comes. Wait," she draws out the word and then, "now!"

I quickly toss out the ball. The rider is, well, kind of amazing. When he reaches the ball, he's completely off of his bike, holding onto the handlebars with just one hand and his feet kicked up over his head. I have no idea how he does it, but he manages to easily snag the ball in his free hand and resituate himself on the bike before he lands.

The crowd of course, goes wild. I'll admit that I clapped for him too. But Marcy pulls me back after just a second.
"Here," she hands me what looks like a hula-hoop, telling me to only hold it by the sections that are wrapped in black electrical tape. It smells funny.

"I'm really bad at these things."

She gives me 'the look'. "It isn't for you. Just hold it next to you at about a 45 degree angle from the jump, like a target."

I take it in both hands and do as she said. After a few seconds, I see him circle around to the jump. He still has the orange ball in his hand. As soon as he gets into the air, he scoots back on his bike so that he's only holding on to the back of the seat. He had managed to put the ball between his boots and as he flies past me, he kicks his feet towards me and sends the ball straight through the hoop. He sits back on the bike just before landing on the opposite ramp.

Now, I don't know about the skill level of the motocross population in general, but as far as I'm concerned, this is like, crazy good, right?

"This time," Marcy says, "hold the hoop over the edge with the bottom at about your eye level."

"Ov-over the edge?" I swallow.

She just nods and says, "just put your toes on the edge and hold out your arm. Now hurry," she finishes as she gives me a small push forward.

I do not care for Marcy.

I inch to edge, feeling my stomach abandon me. I screw my eyes shut for a second and then hold out the hoop. When I hear the rider start to accelerate towards the jump, I open my eyes again. Just as he reaches the apex of the jump, I feel the scaffolding shudder and I lose my balance. I instinctually close my eyes again as I fall to the dirt below.

'I'm going to kill Tony.'

I don't even have time scream though, before I feel something slam into me. My eyes open in surprise and nearly pop out of my head when I see that I'm in the arms of Johnny Storm – the Human Torch. At least, I assume it's him, I don't know anyone else who can burst into flames on purpose. He's literally on fire, but I don't feel a thing.

"How am I not a crispy taco?"

He smirks, I think, it's a bit hard to tell when he's all flamey, and says, "I'm just that amazing."

I hum in acceptance. "This has been a strange day. You know, this is the second time a superhero has flown me around today? I have to say, between the two of you, you're much more comfortable. Although that may be because I was expecting a sudden stop and broken bones instead of warm arms," I babble in my adrenaline fueled state.

He laughs as he slows us down, "You know, that's probably the first time a woman has ever described me as 'comfortable'."

I smile back. "I'm surprised at that. You really are quite comfy. I mean, I've heard of water beds, but I think if all flames were like this, I'd try a fire bed."

Johnny smirks again as his feet light upon the ground. "You're welcome to try my bed. It can get pretty hot there."

My eyebrows rise. "My, my. Forward, aren't we?"

As he, I don't know, 'flames off', he shrugs. "I suppose. If I see something I like, I'm going to do something about it."

I nod. "Well, your confidence is certainly impressive, but it sounds like all the heat may have seriously damaged your corneas."

Johnny just laughs.

"And as further evidence, your attention to detail seems to leave something to be desired."

"Oh?" He asks with a charming, crooked smile. Now that he isn't covered in flames or his helmet, I can see that he has bright blue eyes and short, dirty blond hair. His looks remind me a bit of a flirty Steve. Smells like danger to me.

"Yep. You seem not to have noticed that we've landed." He keeps his smile as he waits for the rest. "So you can put me down now." He's still got me in his arms, bridal-style.

"Oh, I noticed. I just enjoy holding you." Johnny grins and wiggles his eyebrows before setting me down.

"Incorrigible," I mutter with a smile. I'm not used to someone flirting so boldly with me and I think I kind of like it.

By now we are surrounded by staff and medics, who are making sure I hadn't been burned or anything and that Johnny hadn't somehow been hurt, and several reporters yelling questions.

"I'm fine, please stop touching me." I feel hemmed in by the sudden crowd and I try to shove my way out, but one of the reporters roughly jerks on my arm. Hissing, I rip their hand away. I was probably too rough with him, but it feels like he tore my stiches. Super. (This is shortly after her altercation with the mugger - Knifey McStabby)

'I just took the bandages off a couple of days ago. It'll probably stain my sweatshirt. I like this sweatshirt. I'm running out of sweatshirts.'

Johnny must've seen my reaction because he looks like he's going to ask me about it. But before he can, Steve reaches me. He had easily pushed his way through.

'Yet another benefit of being super. And ginormous.'

"Anne! Are you okay?" He looks me over like he's expecting to see my clothes smoking.

"I'm fine," I answer automatically.

But he sees me cradling my arm and he puts a hand on my shoulder. "What happened? Is it your stitches?"

I nod. "Yeah, I think they've torn."

Steve calls a paramedic over. I pull my jacket off and see that I've indeed started bleeding through my sweatshirt. The paramedic cuts open the sleeve to take a look.

"What happened?" Johnny asks, appearing next to me.

"Oh, you know, got a new cat." I don't really want to talk about my first and only fight that was semi-successful.

Steve doesn't have these reservations. "She saved someone's life and got hurt in the process. Who are you?" He crosses his arms. Looks like he's in protective mode.

'Like he needs to try to be intimidating.'

Johnny just grins at me, intrigued by what he's heard. "A battle scar, sexy."

I swear, I can feel Steve narrow his eyes from the other side of me. "Who are you?" He asks again with some steel in his voice.

Johnny finally glances to him and looks him up and down, sizing him up before putting out his hand. "Johnny Storm. You might know me better as the Human Torch."

Steve takes his hand and I see a bit of steam around their hands.

I frown as Steve increases his grip and Johnny flinches.

"Okay, okay, you're both strong, masculine men. Now stop behaving like children." I feel like a preschool teacher.

They both let go and take a half-step back. Johnny asks, "so who are you? Her bodyguard? Brother?" He sounds a bit more hopeful at the last option.

Steve smiles a bit cockily and I'm completely weirded out. "I'm her friend, Steve Rogers." He leans in closer so only Johnny and I can hear the next part. "But you might know me better as Captain America."

Johnny's eyes pop open wider and he looks to me. "Well aren't you just full of surprises?"

It's at this moment that Stark and Bruce find their way to us.

"Anne, do you end up on the receiving end of medical attention every time you leave your apartment?"

"Very funny Tony. I blame you for all of this, by the way. This is the last time I ever do you a favor. That hot chocolate was not worth it."

"And you know Iron Man and the Hulk? My, my, you just get more and more interesting the more I find out about you." Johnny is smirking again. It's both flattering and unsettling. Does he ever not have that look on his face?

The paramedic has just finished up and cleared me to be able to go.

"Listen," Johnny continues. "I need to get going. Sue will kill me if I'm late for dinner again, but give me your phone."

My hand drifts to my jacket on my lap where my phone is in one of the pockets. "Why?" I ask in confusion.

"He wants your number. I take back my last question; do you ever actually leave your apartment?" Tony says from the peanut gallery.

"But, why?" I ask Johnny, ignoring Stark.

"Because I want to get in contact with you again," Johnny answers with a grin.

"Okay, if you're going to be skeevy, no. If you want to act like a normal person and get to know me, well-"

"Actually, we should leave. It's getting late." Steve cuts me off, looking hard at Johnny.

'What in the world is up with him tonight? He can't be jealous, can he?'

But it doesn't faze Johnny in the slightest. "Well?" he asks, encouraging me to finish what I was saying before.

"Tell you what, you give me your number and I'll let you know," I say. Steve tenses beside me. I do not appreciate him speaking over me and, to be honest, the attention from Johnny is nice.

I hand Johnny my phone and he takes a picture of himself to go with his number. When he hands it back, he makes sure to brush my fingers with his own. They feel abnormally warm and I shake my head at his blatant flirtatious advances.

"See you around, Anne," he calls as he turns to leave through the crowd that had long since backed off.

"Anne, you can't really be thinking of going out with him, can you?" Steve presses.

"Steve," I chide. "I'm not stupid, okay? I know Johnny's reputation, but, well, it's kind of nice to have someone interested in me as more than just a friend." I finish softly, so Tony and Bruce can't hear. "It's been a while since anyone's looked at me that way."

His eyes soften but he clenches his jaw and sighs. "I just don't want some dirt-bag to use you and end up breaking your heart."

"I know; you're a good friend. But he did kinda save my life. The least I can do is not be a jerk about giving him my number. He'll forget all about me in a couple of days anyway."

Steve looks like he feels a little better, but he shakes his head.

"If you two have worked out your lovers' spat, could we get going?" Tony interrupts. "I need a drink."

'Tony, please, you probably already have more alcohol in your system than a speak-easy.'

Bruce seems thoughtful as we make our way out of the stadium. "Did anyone else think that guy looked...familiar?"

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A/N: Apparently there's an 80 character limit for chapter titles on Wattpad. Huh. learn something new every day.

Anyway, sorry this chapter's not polished and is just sort of crummy. But hopefully it's better than nothing? I mostly just wanted to reassure you all that I haven't forgotten about this story and I am still planning on finishing it.

I haven't had much opportunity for mulling, contemplating, ruminating, etc. and that's apparently a pretty vital component of how I write.

It also doesn't help that I'm now working full time at a job where every day I come home feeling like I've just tried to mush my brain through a spaghetti strainer. -_-

And on the note of that lovely mental image, thank you all once again for sticking with the story and all the reads, votes, and comments! You're all so nice, have a rude puppy -

No, it doesn't make sense, but I like to imagine that this is Cap in an AU where the Avengers are all baby animals. Besides, it's stinkin' adorable. Also, it's my birthday so I feel that I have the privilege of eschewing any and all reason.

You're welcome.