Drinking Coffee With the Captain

You live in Brooklyn and a new neighbor moves in next door…

Captain America x Reader

You lived in a three bedroom townhouse, with two flatmates, in a lower rent section of Brooklyn. It was nondescript; it had been built in the sixties and converted to an apartment building sometime in the eighties, two apartments on the first floor with a porch that spanned the front of the house, and two apartments on the top floor. It sat on a street amid a long line of row houses and other single family dwellings that had been turned into apartments. It was one of many, not special in any way, but it was home. You’d lived in the townhouse in Brooklyn for about a year when the new neighbor moved in.

You were on your way home from work; you’d parked around the corner and were coming up the sidewalk as the moving truck pulled away, and up the path as the tall blonde man came out of the neighboring apartment, accompanied by your roommate, Jake.

“Thanks for the help. My buddies were going to help me move but they had to go out of town for… work. I couldn’t have gotten that couch in here, or the dresser.” The big blonde man said, running a hand through his hair.

“No problem. That’s what neighbors are for.” You heard Jake reply; he saw you coming up the walk, clearly exhausted from work, your black clothes rumpled from a long day in the shop. “Y/N! We finally got a new neighbor.”

You stepped up onto the patio, looking the newcomer up and down. He was tall, well over six feet, and he was buff. He wore jeans and a blue tee shirt, and some kind of work boots. You extended your hand. “Nice to meet you.” He shook it, giving you the once over as well.

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