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𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙉 𝙈𝙊𝙑𝙄𝙀.

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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎: Spy Kid

𝐒.𝐇.𝐈.𝐄.𝐋.𝐃. 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ─ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝟎𝟑 𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟑

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☆

                  S.H.I.E.L.D. was slowly becoming a little cooler and a lot more intimidating. After the briefing with Fury (and the mild heart attack that she had when she accidentally knocked over a remote on his desk and apologized profusely for two minutes) she and Sharon were sent to finish the rest of their Triskelion-duties for the day. One of those duties included getting Lizzie officially put in the system, with a new picture that she didn't think was much better than the one they had before, and a set of fingerprints that made both Sharon and Lizzie uneasy. They had wanted to take her blood, but Sharon drew the line at that by stating that Fury didn't believe the process was necessary for someone who was only acting as an associate for the division. The man looked too terrified of Sharon's glare to protest, and he nodded weakly.

The second of those duties was to meet the two agents that she was supposed to spend the rest of her time at S.H.I.E.L.D. with, aside from her sister. That led her to the small conference room she was in now, awkwardly sitting on top of a long table that she knew was meant to hold at least fifteen agents. Three more were behind her, reminding her more of a college classroom than a business room for deadly spies of a secret division. Hell, there was even a whiteboard (albeit, she also noticed a pretty cool projector, and she resisted the urge to figure out what made it work since the technology was nowhere in sight). Sharon was by the door, leaning up against the wall and trying to make herself as invisible and invasive as impossible. Lizzie didn't think that was possible until she met Spy Sharon.

"So, who am I meeting first?" Lizzie asked, crossing her legs and looking bored over at her sister.

"Agent Monroe," Sharon said, her eyes constantly looking over at the door as she waited for the person to enter. "He's been with S.H.I.E.L.D. for about two years. Smart—probably too smart for his own good. He used to be a part of an organization called the Rising Tide, trying to expose the identities of enhanced individuals in the world. S.H.I.E.L.D. brought him in, realized how smart he was, and they've had him running head on logistics and cyber interface here at the Triskelion...he's also going to be your teacher. He has a few bachelor's degrees in his back pocket that are going to be useful to you."

Lizzie would have been shocked, but all she could do was roll her eyes. "Oh, I'm sure he's going to love that. What, did Fury threaten him into teaching me?"

"Bigger paycheck actually," came a voice from the other end of the room, and both she and Sharon looked over to see that he had come from out of nowhere. "And he mentioned that I could pass down my terrible behavior onto the younger generation, so I seized the opportunity. I prefer 'O Captain, My Captain' by the way."

Slowly walking towards them was a young, Korean man, dressed in a white dress shirt and absolutely no tie. If she looked close enough, she would be able to see that he was not wearing dress pants either like most other agents, but a pair of black jeans that could pass without heavy inspection. Agent Monroe. Lizzie's brows shot up immediately, looking at him with little expectations as he finally stopped in front of her. To her surprise, he barely gave Sharon a moments notice. Everyone looked at Sharon. She was a hard presence to miss.

"Please tell me you know where that's from," the man said, his brows furrowing on her and a desperate plea began to rise on his features. "Please tell me that Fury didn't give me an idiot to teach. That would be a really huge hit to my ego. My degrees are definitely bigger and brighter than being subjected to teaching an idiot."

Lizzie couldn't help it. "Isn't that from a movie or something?"

Monroe's eye twitched at her. "You're joking. One of the most famous elegy poems in history, one of the most prestigious and complex poets in our entirely sad existence, about one of the most impactful presidents that the United States has seen...and you heard about it from a movie?"

"Dead Poets Society is a good movie," she said casually.

Monroe looked at her for another moment, and she could see a vein beginning to strain in his forehead, before he whirled his head around to Sharon. Her sister was trying to conceal her smirk, and she had only just completely wiped it off her face when Monroe turned to face her. His finger was pointed in her direction, a glare growing vehemently on his face.

"You and Fury set me up with an idiot! A teenage idiot that uses movie references to identify with crucial pieces of history!" he snarled, waving his hands at her like she wasn't right in front of him. "Watch. Next, she's going to say that she enjoyed Rose and Jack's disgustingly-stupid romance but didn't think the Titanic sinking was realistic enough for her!"

"Hitting an iceberg really isn't likely, so they wouldn't have sunk and died. They only did it for the dramatic purposes of the movie."

He slowly, painstakingly, and angrily turned to look at her with the prominent vein in his forehead. "The...Titanic...did...SINK! EVERYONE DID DIE!"

Lizzie grinned, and she decided to relieve the man of his growing heart palpitations. "'The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won.' Or something like that."

"What? What are you—" his eyes slowly widened in recognition, and his mouth opened at her. She watched with a growing smile as his eyes lit with millions of different emotions, but he finally settled on one: relief. He brought his hand to his chest. "Oh, thank God."

Sharon finally stepped into the limelight, crossing her arms over her chest as she made her way over to them. "No need to pass on any of your obnoxious behaviors, Monroe. She's already got enough without you corrupting her any further."

"Did she get all of the ones you don't have, Miss Congeniality?" Monroe asked, turning to Sharon with a small glower.

Lizzie sat up straighter, narrowing her eyes. Sure, she loved joking on her sister, but that didn't mean other people were allowed to do it. Sharon didn't seem bothered by it, and she barely flashed her eyes at Lizzie before she smiled widely at Monroe. Lizzie blanched, knowing that look all too well, and it definitely was not a good one. Sharon's hands went to smooth out his white shirt collar, and Lizzie couldn't help but watch as the vein in Monroe's head pulsed. This time, it was out of fear. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple getting stuck in his throat as he tried to avert eye contact with Sharon.

"Of course not," Sharon said gently, smiling at him with a falseness that could rot someone's teeth. "Mine are just too bad to let anyone see."

He glanced over at Lizzie, almost like he was asking for her to help him. She just raised her brows at him, a twisted grin starting to pull on her own lips. "Oh. I'm sorry. Don't look at me for help. She's the nicer one."

Monroe swallowed again, nodding as he quickly stepped out of Sharon's hold. "Duly noted, Agent Thirteen."

"Good. Now..."

Insert boring conversation, per Lizzie's request, because that's really what it was. The rest of the hour had been primarily Sharon and Monroe talking, the man putting his ego all the way back in his pants after Sharon terrified him. Lizzie sat there, bored and surprisingly quiet, wishing she had a coffee from Starbucks. Monroe asked where she last stopped in all of her classes back at Lentworth Middle School, and she gave the best estimate in all of them. The professionalism of the whole conversation reminded her sourly that she was not actually here to learn, but here to be looked after and taught some stuff in the process. S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't care about her education, not unless that education bettered her job as an associate.

She expected to meet Agent Sitwell next, but Sharon took her in an entirely different route. They ended up in another dark conference-looking room, and she stopped when she realized that there was no one in there. Lizzie paused, looking at her sister expectantly, when all of a sudden the lights flickered on. Following the lights, a series of computers came to life and started to rev up the silent room. Immediately, her eyes widened, and she saw that there was someone sitting in a chair in the back of the room—she looked like she'd just woken up from a nap. Were all S.H.I.E.L.D. agents unprofessional? 

"Carson," Sharon said quietly, watching as the girl shot up. "I need your help."

The woman, Carson, had been quick to jump out of her seat and into the light the second that the room turned on. Lizzie noticed that she was really pretty. She had blonde hair, lighter than Sharon's, and a set of steel blue eyes that darted quickly from where her sister was to her. Lizzie decided to stay silent, waiting for another brief introduction or explanation like the one that Sharon gave earlier for Monroe. This wasn't a visit that she remembered being mentioned with Fury while they were briefing, and she knew that her sister didn't want a lot of people knowing about her...so who was the girl?

Carson stopped in front of them, her heavy inspection continuing as she looked between the two. "Well. There's no hiding the fact that the two of you are related. You'll probably be getting shit about your new babysitting occupation for the next week by everyone that's seen her. Did you run into Rumlow? He'll have a field day with that. She actually looks surprisingly similar to Peggy, but I doubt anyone will make the connection..."

The sound of her aunt's name, the name that Sharon specifically said no one knew about, rang like clanging iron in the air. Lizzie froze instinctively, and her head shot up to look at her sister in question. Why did this girl know who they actually were? She didn't look, in any way possible, like she would have the same Level Ten Clearance that the Director of the entire division had. 

Sharon placed her hands on her shoulders from behind and squeezing gently. "Carson, this is Elizabeth Carter. Lizzie, this is Agent Carson Mayfield. She started working for S.H.I.E.L.D. around the same time I joined and got transferred to the Triskelion a few weeks before I did. We worked together on a project a few years back, and she's been helping me out over the years ever since. Her grandfather is Sergeant Dugan."

"Sergeant Dugan? From the Howling Commandos?" Lizzie asked in confusion, then her eyes widened as large as they could go. She gaped at the woman, and finally began to see distant similarities. "Your Dum Dum's granddaughter?"

"It really is a perfect nickname for him," Carson muttered with a sigh. She smiled kindly at her. "It's really nice to finally meet you, Lizzie. Sharon kept quiet about her entire family for four years, but the second we made the connection, she wouldn't shut up about you. Your sister is surprisingly conversational once you get passed the S.H.I.E.L.D. specialist in her. Never thought I'd see the day it wasn't me running my own mouth off."

Lizzie was still adjusting, but she blinked and nodded slowly as her sister rolled her eyes. Ironically enough, Lizzie realized that Carson reminded her an awful lot of herself. Both of them were loud, verbose people with an arsenal of dry humor. That fact was enough to make Lizzie warm up to the woman, and to bite back her brief surprise at discovering that her sister actually made a friend at S.H.I.E.L.D. Sharon always acted like she never got close with anyone at work, but Carson was living proof of the opposite. 

"Carson makes most of the tech for S.H.I.E.L.D. Well, she runs a lot of it through Fury to see what Stark thinks about the outlines, and then she makes it. She's also one of the top interference specialists here at the Triskelion now—she knows how to get in and out of situations quickly, mainly with the tech she creates...but she's also a damn good shot. I figured he would be putting you in charge of this panic button that is supposed to protect my baby sister?" Sharon's brief synopsis of her friend was cut short when she looked her way, waiting for Carson to confirm her suspicions.

She nodded immediately, moving back to where she had been sleeping. "You humble me dearly when you talk nice about me. But yeah. I've got it—also, I've been thinking. What if part of the reason Fury transferred me here is because he wanted the two of us close? He didn't really say it, but it was pretty heavily implied... I think he's pulling in the people he trusts most. Makes sense right? First Captain Rogers and Romanoff, then me and Monroe, and now you? I'm surprised he hasn't called in Hill or Barton... but anyway, he talked to me about making a panic button for an 'associate' they were bringing in soon. I just kind of figured it would be another billionaire or super-soldier they'd convinced to join. Didn't expect Baby Carter over here—no offense, Lizzie."

"It's all right," she said with a shrug. "I'm used to it by now."

"Gramps still keeps track over Peggy, you know. He's mentioned her family from time-to-time, and that's actually how Sharon and I found out about each other. Neither one of us were exactly ready to out our connections here. I'm sorry to hear about her Alzheimer's, by the way. He's not doing too great either. I think since the others started passing, he's been trying to do what he can for everyone else before it's his time to go. He's still holding out on the hope that Cap calls, but..." Carson trailed off, a small frown playing on her lips before she turned to look at them with something dangling in her hand. "All right, Baby Carter. This is your handy-dandy panic button. Fury said to make it as inconspicuous as possible, so I hope you like the color red. Happy late Birthday, kiddo."

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍, 𝐃.𝐂. ─ 𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐑

"Elizabeth, stop. You're going to break it."

"Okay, but look at it, Sharon! The compartment is so small, you can barely tell!"

Lizzie's index finger pulled on the metal chain of the necklace, the small pendant hanging in the center of it on display overtop her chicken tenders and fries (sue her). The chain was long enough that it easily hid underneath her shirt on her chest, but there was still a bit of an indentation through the fabric that she would have to get used to. Thankfully, for her, the super-duper cool, spy-tech panic button that she had been given by Carson could not be accidentally pushed (i.e. she wasn't going to accidentally send an entire STRIKE team to their apartment by accidentally banging it into a wall). It was hidden inside of a protective and circular-looking red stone that popped open to reveal the grey panic button. Hold for ten seconds, and all hell breaks loose.

She wanted to cry when she first saw it. To her, that was so much cooler than the gun that Sharon was hiding in her purse. Carson had seen the excitement on her face and realized soon enough that it actually was a great birthday present for the Baby Carter. It was the kind of stuff that she would have watched in Spy Kids when she was little. Now, she was a Spy Kid. Her giddy feeling after leaving the Triskelion carried on throughout dinner, and she happily munched on the burnt chicken tenders she got from the kid's menu after Sharon promised the waiter she was only eleven (gotta do what you gotta do).

"That isn't a toy," Sharon scolded, glaring heavily at the panic button like it was a bomb. "And I still hate the idea of that being the only thing keeping you safe."

Lizzie raised her brows. "Until you teach me how to fight. Then, I can keep myself safe."

"From a bully at school, maybe. Not from grown men and super-soldiers, Lizzie."

"Hey, hey, no," Lizzie dropped the necklace with a glare, leaning in closer to her sister. "We aren't doing that. You don't get to act like this mission is too dangerous for me after we've already gone through literally everything except meeting him. We met my teacher—Monroe is hilarious—and you already told me yourself that you think Sitwell is qualified to teach me the important spy stuff. Carson gave me my emergency swat team button and her number if I needed her. You are supposed to teach me to protect myself, Share. Fury said you set the limitations. I don't want any."

Sharon shook her head, her jaw clenching. "You don't know what that even means."

"Yes, I do. You get to kick my ass for annoying you for thirteen years."

"Language."

Lizzie rolled her eyes dramatically. "You can't harp on me about cussing when you say every single word known to man when you hit your foot on a coffee table, Agent Thirteen. I'm serious. Mom said you had to be the one to train me, right? No exceptions. Me learning to defend myself in any way that I can—"

"No guns."

"—without the use of dangerous machinery is part of that exception. I want to learn. I promise I won't give up or be annoying about it. You know I was the best on my softball team, and I destroyed all of those other stick-ups in my gymnastics club...I have the motivation here. I just need a teacher. I don't want to defend myself against a bully. I want to defend myself against the world."

Lizzie could hear the plea in her voice, her eyes wide and desperate on her sister's face. Sharon stared right back, her lips set in a straight line that didn't give away a single emotion. The Spy Sharon had made its return, and Lizzie hated that she was not trained yet to figure out what her expression meant. Finally, a sigh escaped her mouth and she leaned back in her seat. Sister Sharon took a glance at the necklace hanging around her neck, and then looked into her brown eyes. They softened then, and that was the first time Lizzie payed close attention to the concern on her face.

"If I agree to train you..." Sharon paused, clenching her jaw as if the words were painful to say out loud. "You have to listen to me. This isn't the kind of practice that you're used to. It's not softball conditioning. You're going to get hurt, and I'm probably going to freak out every time I accidentally hit you, and this isn't going to be fun...but I don't trust anyone else enough to teach you what you need to learn."

Lizzie's building excitement fell a bit at a certain thought. "Oh, please tell me we aren't joining a gym."

"No. Too many eyes. I also don't want anyone to know about you being in D.C. that doesn't have to. Sitwell and Monroe are under direct orders not to say anything about your involvement with S.H.I.E.L.D. I'm not worried about Carson. I can ask Fury to find an open facility within or close to the Triskelion that we can train at by ourselves. We can go right after you're done with classes."

"Great! When do we start?"

"Tomorrow."

Lizzie's face fell like her excitement. "What? I thought we were spending all day moving in tomorrow. Our mattresses are on the floor. We have, like, three dishes and I'm pretty sure you broke one of them this morning. I don't want to be eating glass with my Ramen noodles or sleeping right next to a spider."

"We move in later on in the day. Training starts tomorrow morning with an eight mile run in the same place that he runs...and look, I know we haven't really had the chance to talk—pass me the ketchup..." Lizzie did so like it was second nature, watching as her sister smothered the stale fries in ketchup as she talked "...but I need to make sure that you are all right with this, and I mean really all right, Liz. I know what he means to you. How you look up to him. I don't want you to get hurt doing this if he isn't what you expect him to be...or if he is."

Sharon's words had a secondhand meaning, and Lizzie watched her set down the ketchup bottle slowly to look at her. She could see the millions of concerns storming in her sister's eyes, more obvious than they were before. Lizzie couldn't help but feel the doubts from earlier resurface, picking absentmindedly at the white napkin on the table—but it was not Spy Sharon in front of her. Spy Sharon wouldn't have cared about her feelings, but the integrity of their mission. This was all her older sister worrying. So Lizzie was honest.

"What happens if I become friends with him?" she asked, quietly, tearing the napkin to pieces. "I mean, actual friends with him. What happens if I can't lie to him anymore about this cover mission?"

"Are you afraid you won't be able to?"

Lizzie shook her head, swallowing hard. "No. I think I can do this...I just...I don't want to hurt him, you know? He's already been through enough. I don't want him to think that I'm doing this all because of a mission Fury gave me, I guess. I wish he could know that I'm doing this for Aunt Peggy and for what she created. I think he'd understand then."

She finally looked up from her shred of napkins, realizing that she had made a janky-looking star. Sharon's brown eyes were glued to her already, filled with the warmth that she always found so much comfort in. They got their eyes from their Dad, and by proxy, their Grandpa Nick. They were Carter eyes.

"When all of this is over," she started, softly, "I promise I'll make sure he knows you were doing this for Aunt Peggy...and I promise that he'll know it wasn't just a mission to you."

Lizzie nodded, ignoring the way that her eyes were burning. "What happens after we figure out if he's trustworthy, Sharon? I leave? And you keep protecting him?"

"I don't know yet, Lizzie. We'll take it a day at a time." 

Then, she quieted down for a second when the waiter came back to hand them their check. Quickly, faster than Lizzie's brain could register, her sister had pulled out two crisp, twenty dollar bills and moved to stand up. 

"Fury said this morning that there was a good chance that we'll see him at the complex within the next twenty-four hours, so we need to be prepared if we run into him tonight. I'll be right there with you the entire time. Just remember to be yourself. The more technical training you're given for surveillance and cover missions, the harder it gets to use the training. It's always easier to be yourself when someone hasn't told you how to do it. That's what Aunt Peggy told me when I first joined...it helps. I promise."

Lizzie's anxiety peaked at the thought that it was becoming all too real, and she slid out of the booth to follow after her sister. Sharon had changed into a pair of regular people clothes right after they left the Triskelion, already fitting into her alias as Kate instead of pantsuit Sharon, while Lizzie kept to her outfit from that morning—a pair of light blue, ripped jeans and a grey hoodie from her softball team back in Brooklyn. Not a great thing to wear to a secret organization, but oh well. Too late now.

She stopped right outside the exit of the shotty diner when Sharon's words from earlier finally processed in her mind. "Wait, wait—I'm sorry, did you say eight miles? Are you insane?!"

Sharon barely glanced at her as she pressed the button for the crosswalk to get to their apartment. "I could have said ten, you know. I'm being lenient. That is normal protocol for the beginning of training. Extra cardio, and then weight training paired with hand-to-hand. What happened to 'I have the motivation here'?"

"The motivation died back in that diner. I haven't ran five miles in almost a year. We aren't in season. What, is the plan to make me stroke out and have him save me?" Lizzie knew she was complaining (and being annoying) but that didn't stop her from doing it as they walked across the street to get to their apartment building. She could see the undercover S.H.I.E.L.D. car they had been given from here. "The only eight mile I can understand is that movie with Eminem."

"Emily."

"What? No. Eminem. The rapper. Who is E—"

Lizzie stopped right in her place on the sidewalk when she realized who was standing there looking at their car. Her eyes widened as large as saucers, realizing that: (one) she was Emily, (two) she was a dumbass, and (three) Captain America was beautiful. Sharon's shoulders slouched immediately, and she took a single glance over at her sister before she moved forward. Lizzie started to freak out, internally telling herself not to throw up everywhere because that really wasn't a great impression, but the sketchy chicken fingers were starting to look more and more like a bad idea the closer that she and Sharon got to Captain freaking America. Her childhood hero was in front of her!

"Em, do you think that we should paint the living room blue or yellow?" Sharon asked, casually. The view of Captain Rogers was getting closer now, and she could see her sister trying to get rid of the tension in her shoulders.

Lizzie (bless her soul) realized what her sister was trying to do. After years of faking conversations to get their Mom's crazy cousins away from them during Thanksgiving dinners, she had caught onto the tone of voice Sharon used when she wanted her to play along with things. As she counted the number of sidewalk blocks it would take until they were at their car (and Steve Rogers), she met eyes briefly with her sister to show mild panic. She was surprised to see the amount of warmth in return. Like a blanket of security, she realized her sister was right there, just like she said. She would be alright. She could do this.

She still moved closer to Sharon, curling her arm into her sister's side. "Can we even paint the walls at this apartment complex? I thought they had to be boring colors. Like beige. And white."

"I think as long as we paint it back..." Sharon stopped talking when they got close enough for him to hear their conversation, and she made a show by stopping only a few feet away from their car. "Hello. Can I help you?"

Immediately, he turned on his heels to look over at them in surprise. The expression on his face made it seem like he had just been caught in the act of a crime. Really, Lizzie could tell that he was just checking to see if it was a car tailing him where he lived. Clearly, he was smart. However, when he came across them and noticed that it was not men in suits watching his every move, his expression changed. Captain Rogers' infamous blue eyes remained suspicious on Sharon up until they moved down, connecting quickly with their conjoined arms, and then stopping on her. All traces of suspicion vanished instantly...and that was the first time that Lizzie understood just how important she was for Sharon's cover.

"No, ma'am...I just—is this your car by any chance?" he asked, one hand gesturing bashfully towards the black SUV while the other stuck deeply into the pocket of his khaki's. Gross, old man pants. "I haven't seen it in the neighborhood before."

Sharon nodded, warming up to the conversation quicker than Lizzie did and took them another step forward closer to him. "Yep, that's all us. Got it as a college graduation present a few years ago. We actually just moved here this morning. Is it okay to park here? I got lost figuring things out, and there wasn't a sign..."

She trailed off, leaving him to shake his head and raise a hand. "No, no. You're all right. It's nice to meet you. I'm Steve...I actually just moved here a few weeks ago, too."

"I'm Kate," she said, smiling. "It's nice to meet you, too. This is my sister—"

"Hey, Steve!" Lizzie said, playing it up with a small grin. She hoped that it would hide all of the nerves playing in her features. Besides, Fury told her to be a teenager. To be herself as much as she possibly could. Remember Aunt Peggy's advice. "I'm Emily. So, be real with me—are there any neighbors that we need to avoid? Because back at our old place, there was this really dodgy neighbor that looked like he low-key grew drugs on the side. His name was Bill."

Captain Rogers' face lifted a bit in shock at her upfront personality, but Lizzie could tell that there was no suspicion. At least, none that she could see. The fact that Sharon hadn't yanked her arm out of socket either meant that she wasn't completely failing. She figured he was wondering why they hadn't said anything about his familiar face. After all, everyone knew who Captain America was. Then, his brows furrowed a bit in confusion, and he glanced away from her eyes to her hoodie. Ah, he was putting the pieces together. She knew that he would be able to hear her Brooklyn accent.

"You might not want to pick a fight with the guy from Apartment Six...are you two from Brooklyn by any chance?" he asked without thinking, his eyes finally trailing from her Brooklyn softball hoodie to their faces. Immediately, he paused at his rude question. "I'm sorry. I heard a bit of an accent, and I saw your hoodie—"

"Born and raised," Sharon said, taking over again as she gave him a small smile. "Parents split a couple of months ago, and it was pretty messy. I ended up with this kid. Turns out raising a teenager is a lot easier than moving into a new apartment in a different city."

Lizzie made a show of rolling her eyes, even though it was partially real. "I don't know if that was a compliment or an insult."

"What number are you guys in?" Captain Rogers asked, a friendly smile on his face as he watched the two of them together. "I could help you move around some things if you'd like."

"Three," Sharon said, "but you really don't have to. It's getting late, and the moving truck is coming sometime tomorrow—"

"We could use help then," Lizzie said, interrupting her sister. She got a yank that time, but it was obvious enough that she realized Sharon did it on purpose. She turned to look at her sister with exasperation. "What, Katie? I'm sorry, but neither one of us look like him! We almost dropped three boxes this morning!"

"No, really. It's all right," Captain Rogers said, interjecting their mock bickering. "I'd love to help. I actually live in Four, right next to you. I should be home all day if you need anything. Well, I go on a run in the morning, but after that—"

Lizzie took the opportunity that was given, and she turned to him with peaked interest. "Ooh! Where do you run? I need to start training again for softball. Well, after I find a team out here to play for, and so far I haven't found a single place that looks fun to run at. I mean, there's a couple of gyms, but I'd rather run—"

"Outside?" he finished, his kind smile showing that he understood completely. "I get it. Change of scenery helps make it a bit less routine. I run out by the National Mall, down by Potomac River. It's not that far of a walk from here, actually. I can show you one day if you'd like. It's about five miles around, give or take."

Oh, God. He was so nice. Lizzie wanted to scream.

"That would be great!" she said, grinning from ear-to-ear.

Sharon shifted to her side a bit, and she realized they were extending their introduction too far. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Steve. We better get inside before it gets dark."

Captain Rogers took another look her way, still smiling, and nodded as he glanced around at where they were to remember that they were standing in the middle of the sidewalk. He shoved his hands back into his pants, giving them a curt nod and a small, "I'll see you tomorrow, neighbors," before he moved to make his way up the stairs to their apartment complex. She and Sharon were not far behind, the two of them trying to regain their bearings now that they weren't in such close proximity to their number one mission.

Or so they thought. When they got to the top of the steps, they realized that he was waiting for them with the door wide open. Lizzie resisted the urge to flip shit right then and there. There was no way in possible hell that anyone could believe he wasn't trustworthy, right? He looked like the freaking poster child for honor and integrity! Sharon and her both let out somewhat breathy laughs at the sight of him, one in disbelief and the other in false humor.

"You really give a warm welcome, don't you?" Sharon asked as they started towards the stairs. "Are all of the neighbors as welcoming as you are?"

"Ah," Captain Rogers raised his hand to his neck as he carefully trailed behind them. "I guess I was just raised be a gentleman, ma'am."

Lizzie couldn't help but snort. "So, that's a definite 'no' on a welcome party."

They had made their way to their floor before she could see her sister or Captain Rogers' reactions to her comment, but she was sure that if she looked hard enough, there would be a grin growing on Captain Rogers' face. Well, at least he wasn't sick of her commentary yet. He better be in for it if they were meant to become great friends for the next few weeks (or months, who knows). Sharon stepped to the foot of their door, keys already outstretched in her hand. They watched as he got his own keys out, casually showing them as he walked past them to get to the number '4' apartment door.

"I guess we'll be seeing a lot more of each other," Sharon said as she unlocked the door and pushed it open slightly.

Lizzie peeked a bit around her sister's arm, smiling kindly at Captain Rogers. "Sorry in advance if I annoy you. Katie says I've got a bad habit of trying to be everyone's friend..and another sorry for any fighting that you may hear between me and my sister. I promise we actually love each other. It's just deep, deep down."

Kate had disappeared, and Sharon had fully returned enough to turn and give Lizzie a dark glare. She placed a hand on the side of her sister's head, smashing her face and hair together. As she pushed on Lizzie's head, she urged her into the door with a parting half-smile in Captain Rogers' direction. He just looked amused beyond belief, and she called that a win in her books.

"Sorry, Steve," Sharon apologized. "I promise I won't let her bother you."

Liar, Lizzie huffed. That's exactly what you're letting me do.

"It's all right, honestly," Captain Rogers dismissed quickly, entertained at their antics. He turned to look at her (well, what he could see of her from Sharon's big hand on her face). "Knock any time you want to go running, and I can show you—if that's all right with you, ma'am."

"Kate, please," Sharon corrected, then glanced back at her little sister. For a second, her face softened and Lizzie knew it was not an act. She turned back to Captain Rogers before she got too overwhelmed. "That's fine by me. She's got too much energy as is, and you seem sane enough to me. As long as you bring her back to me in one piece...goodnight, Steve."

Lizzie poked her head out again. "Night, Steve! Nice to meet you! I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Goodnight, Emily," he said, still smiling. He turned to Sharon and nodded gently. "Goodnight, Kate."

All three of them turned in their rightful directions towards their apartments and walked inside. As the door made a gentle click behind them, alerting them that they were in the safety of their new home, Lizzie felt her adrenaline start to crash. Then, the shakes came. She didn't realize that her body was trembling until she felt a pair of hands grab tightly onto her arms, latching onto her and pulling her into their chest with a steel grip shortly after. Sharon's limbs circled around her like a snake, suffocating her into their hold so that she had no other option but to hug her back. Lizzie's chin moved onto her sister's shoulder, trying to catch her breaths evenly.

She wasn't entirely sure how long they stood in the foyer of their apartment, gripping tightly onto each other like the other would disappear. All Elizabeth Carter knew was that she had just met Steve Rogers—the same Steve Rogers that her Aunt Peggy fell in love with—and she was beginning to wonder just how easy it was going to be to spy on a man that seemed to make every Carter girl fall into his hands like putty. So much for being a Spy Kid. She was something better. She was the great niece of Peggy Carter—and nothing beat that in her books.

"Good job, Agent Three."

Oh, yeah. She also got a super cool agent name, too.

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𝐈 𝐍 𝐓 𝐑 𝐎 𝐃 𝐔 𝐂 𝐈 𝐍 𝐆: (The Babysitter's Club 2.0!)

"𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐅𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧-𝐢𝐧-𝐭𝐡𝐞-𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐞'𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟. 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫."

"I'm mildly offended that Fury didn't assign me some sort of babysitting duty for Baby Carter over here. I mean, he's letting Monroe infect her young, developing mind with his crazy theories and narcissistic commentary, Sitwell is a dumbass loyalist with no helpful knowledge on being an agent whatsoever, and Captain Rogers is literally her human Build-A-Bear project...what's the harm in letting her run around with the crazy tech and interference specialist? I think I'd be a damn good babysitter. I can teach her how to infiltrate a bomb shelter with a pen. Plus, I'm your only friend, Sharon. I deserve rights to your sister. Give her to me."

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"There are a hundred and eight million reasons why I would gladly die for Captain America. I've made a list. He has one of the greatest war stories ever told. His shield literally defies and all forms of logic and reasoning. His ass—sorry, language, excuse me—the science behind his transformation from a literal broken toothpick to an...exquisite specimen of man...well, let me just say that that right there is number one. And two. And I think I wrote it down for three and four, as well. You think you could introduce me to your adoptive Dad..dy?"

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