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10 Families Steve Rogers Drew
Cross: Blue Bloods

Steve loved Central Park.  He loved to sit on one of the park benches and people watch with his sketchpad.  He could fill an entire pad with doodles in one afternoon.  Today, a pretty, blonde, middle-aged woman and her two pre-teen boys sat one the pair of benches on the other side of the walkway.  She had a pair of deli bags and was obviously waiting.  Steve sketched the boys being brothers and their mother watching closely with a loving smile.  Then the boys spotted a man and with joyful grins, ran down the gravel pathway shouting, “Dad! Dad!”  Their balding father was in a suit, but not a Wall Street or CEO one.  He knelt to get closer to his sons and sun reflected off the badge on his belt.  A copper.  Steve hurried to get all of the proportions and angles committed to paper.  He could fill in the details later.

Steve continued working on the sketch through the greetings and the passing of the food.  The copper brought with him his partner, a dark-haired woman in a suit.  While the man and his wife caught up, sitting next to each other with his arm around her shoulder, the boys sat on either side of his detective partner asking rather pointed questions about her job.  Clearly, she was uncomfortable around children, but she knew and loved being a detective.  Steve liked the circumstance of the family drawing the single woman into their orbit.  He flipped to a fresh page and started to sketch it.

The parents talked each other in low tones, occasionally checking their phones but their eyes repeatedly strayed to their boys, ensuring their good behavior.  Steve nearly completed the man’s face when he realized that he had sketched this man before.  The features flowed from his pencil easily.  Steve paused.  He hadn’t drawn any coppers recently that he knew.  The female detective’s features were just as effortless.  He would have to check his nightmare sketchpads.  Many faces of emergency personnel were recorded within.  Chances were good that he had drawn the pair as therapy from the alien attack.  He could purge the ugliness from his sleep if he recorded it.  Someday, he might burn those papers, but not yet.

A decade of being bullied plus the years of soldiering warned Steve that someone was approaching from behind.  Steve smoothly grabbed his pencils, stood, stepped away and turned.  A young, uniformed copper stopped his approach with his hands raised to placate.  “Hey, didn’t mean to startle you,” he said with a disarming grin.  “You’re really good.”

Steve didn’t like the flattery.  The copper hadn’t been close enough or at a good angle to spot the drawing.  The copper fanned a pair of twenties he was holding.  “I was hoping to buy it off of you.”

Steve spotted a highly decorated police commander several steps back, putting away his wallet.  The boys Steve had drawn piped up.  “Uncle Jamie?”  “Grandpa?”

Steve knew about security concerns and soft targets.  The father must have spotted Steve and texted for reinforcements.  At least two generations of police officers could be influenced if the boys were threatened.  (If Steve wasn’t mistaken, the boys were aiming to be the next generation of coppers.)  He spotted his own SHIELD shadow calling HQ.  He did not want to escalate the situation.  Steve hadn’t wanted to worry anyone.

Wordlessly, he tore the incomplete sketch out of the pad and offered it to the patrol officer.  The man’s eyebrows rose.  “Wow. You are talented.”  He offered the money, as promised, but Steve shook his head.  He had no need for cash.  Between his back pay, that Pepper had given to JARVIS for the stock market, and Tony, who had a tendency to buy anything that he teammates gazed at for too long, Steve didn’t want for anything.

The copper offered the sketch.  “You, at least, need to sign it.”

Steve snagged it, used his closed sketchpad as a suitable surface and scrawled a messy ‘S Rogers’ in the corner and handed it back.

“What else do you have in there?” he asked nosily.

Steve shrugged.  “Stuff.”  Views of the Hellicarrier, views from the Hellicarrier, same with Stark Tower, moments of his teammates relaxing; the copper didn’t have clearance to page through it.

“Can I see?” the older of the two boys asked.  “Can I see, Uncle Jamie?”

Officer Jamie held up the sketch so the boys could see.  They scrambled closer and Steve took a couple steps back.  He didn’t want the armed coppers getting nervous.

“Cool!”  “Awesome!” they exclaimed.

The first copper, the detective father, snapped it out of the young relative’s (brothers, Steve was sure) hands.  “Not bad.  Not bad.  What does that say?  Roger?  Do you have a card?”

Steve shook his head.

“Captain Rogers,” the SHIELD agent called gently.  “It’s time to return.”  It wasn’t, but Steve wouldn’t argue now.  He nodded once, silently reinforcing the PTSD soldier/therapist dynamic that the agent was portraying.  “If you’ll excuse us,” she said to the family.  “We really must go.  I hope the captain didn’t bother you.”

Steve walked away from the family, following the SHIELD agent like a lost puppy.  He hoped like hell that this didn’t end up in a report that Tony could find.  He was sad that he was leaving the sketch behind; he liked the way it had turned out.


( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
Feb. 9th, 2015 06:50 am (UTC)
I have not been watching Blue Bloods. (I know it's Tom Selleck's new TV series. Don't think he's been in one since Magnum P.I.) My mom watches it.

For some reason, I keep having this image of the sketch framed in the Reagan's home. Someone Erin knows asks who gave them a genuine Steve Rogers, as that might be too expensive of a gift to give an LEO. (In my head canon, Steve's old sketches were going for way more than he's imagined.)

Anyhooo.... enjoyed this little bit.
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )