redintheledger | [not-game-related] Steve, a few months post-Avengers

[not-game-related] Steve, a few months post-Avengers

Natasha might have been off field-duty for the foreseeable future (barring, of course, Strike Team Delta summons), but all this meant was more time in the office. And in conferences. And in offices doing conferences, and meetings, and plannings, and -

Well, there is Rogers exiting a room, looking even less thrilled to be in SHIELD's HQ than she is. She'd argue that misery loves company, but in all honesty, she's been meaning to catch him to see how he was anyway.

You fight aliens together, that means something. Or it should.

"Rogers!"

(She's looking altogether more polished than even the last time he saw her; no yellow leather jacket with her wavy-curls all over the place, but her red hair is darker than before and pinned up to neatness, and she's wearing grey suit pants. Still, the blouse is a deep pink that matches her heels, and from her ears dangle two delicate pistol earrings.

Natasha Romanoff is making no attempt to blend into the background of suits.)

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"Too bad. Of all the people who could get frozen and sent to the future, you'd think he'd be the most likely," Steve jokes.

The name sounds vaguely familiar, but as hard as he thinks on it he can't connect any dots. Shaking his head, he says, "I don't think I know who he is. What did he write?"

"Sci-fi. But it's the kind of science-fiction that inspired people to make it reality. Not everything," she adds. "Sadly, we don't have colonies on the Moon yet. But his first novel was published in 1948. He was...amazingly inspirational."

It's ... nice, seeing Agent Romanoff so enthusiastic about something. Well, something other than breaking bad guys' faces (which Steve admits is satisfying, but you can only punch Hitler so many times before your hobbies get skewed). He grins, watching her speak, infected by her excitement.

"Colonies on the moon are about my speed," he nods. "I'm just catching up on over fifty years of the space program. As if I didn't have enough to catch up on with this planet, damn. Watching the moon landing brought tears to my eyes."

"It...it was incredible," Nat says, and she could stop that soft smile on her face, but she's not going to.

"They caught you up with the Soviet side, too, right?"

"As far as the Race for Space goes," he says, with no small amount of wryness. It doesn't strike him until a few seconds later why she'd be asking. "I haven't seen any of the videos or reports, other than the spacewalk and a picture of the Russian space station. It's ... "

He stops short, laughing.

"I almost said it's 'out of this world'. It's incredible."

She laughs a little in return.

"Still a good description. But you should at least hear Sputnik. Sputnik changed...the world. And for ultimately for the good, I think."

He nods. "The first artificial Earth satellite. It makes things like cell phones and global positioning possible."

Sure, it's a little textbook, but cut the kid a break. All he's really had are textbooks. And wikipedia. "I've been reading up. And, uh. I know Russia was leagues ahead of the US from the beginning, but they want me catching up on current events and US history first."

He smiles apologetically.

"I've got a lot more reading to do. Maybe you could give me some suggestions."

"They're idiots."

She smiles, quick and sharp.

"US-centricity never does anyone any good, let alone the US and the people living in it. Not that I'm saying you should study the history of the USSR and Russia in depth, that's ridiculous. But current events don't make much sense until you take in the historical context. Like this damn war in the Middle East. But then you have the attitudes of South and Latin America, and..." she gestures.

"US history is a start. But...I can given recommendations for other things. How are you at audio-books and watching documentaries?"

She almost makes him bark with laughter, catching him off-guard with her statement and her smile alike. She's a surprising woman, so much like Peggy in a lot of ways. Peggy always liked to give him what-for when he forgot there were other countries outside of America. It was funny when she did it to Stark, but terrifying when he was the one in the storm's eye.

"You can't know where you're going until you know where you've been," he surmises, bobbing his head. "Hey, I know we're the baby brother of countries here, built on just as much luck as enterprise. America's my home, Age--Rome. A home I've kind of missed after months of war. But I don't kid myself in thinking I can protect her or her citizens if I ignore the wide world out there, and seventy years is a long time to be out in the dark."

He twitches a smile. For once he's not actually trying to be argumentative, her passion just happens to be contagious. What can he say? "Uh, audio books? I don't have any experience with that at all. I mean, I've learned about MP3s and DVDs, but all I have is a TV at my place that some agents think is funny for some reason."

Some reason happens to be because it's a monstrosity. A cabinet TV with a built-in turntable and radio that sits on the floor. It doesn't even have a remote.

Steve likes it. It has character.

She looks entertained, and then mischievous. It's an expression that makes her look oddly younger - oddly, because she doesn't look that old to start with. But there is a lightness to her face that contrasts with her usual habitual reserve.

"A lot of agents are basically...children. It's disconcerting how young they seem. Anyway, audio-books are like CDs or MP3s, but instead of music, someone is reciting a book. I love them, it lets me hear the book while I'm doing something else."

"Yeah, and I'm already an old man in my twenties," he huffs, rubbing the back of his neck. It's funny to some, like Stark and Barton, and unthinkable to others to crack jokes about Steve's age. Calling him grandpa, asking if he needs assistance crossing the street -- OK, Steve will admit some jokes are funnier than others. But there's something different about Agent Romanoff. She's got this poise other agents her age don't have, this strange way of looking older and younger at the same time. Steve's started to look at some agents as children, but not her. "Not you."

It's an opening, if she'll take it. He bobs his head along to the explanation of audio books. Steve's always liked the feel of a book in his hand -- soft leather, the smell of ink and paper, the comforting weight in his palm -- but he can see the appeal. He makes a mental note to ask Agent Berman about them, and the proper device to play them. "So I could listen to a book on the subway?"

"Oh, you're still a kid to me," she says, a little more deeply amused than before. "But, yeah, you can listen to books. Honestly I prefer reading, but sometimes sitting down and just doing that for a few hours is an indulgence."

He laughs. "I don't know whether I should be proud, or offended."

It's hard to think of himself as a kid; been hard since the day mom passed away. On the other hand, he doesn't feel old. Apart from the obvious, that he hasn't aged during the seventy years he was sleeping, he hasn't been imbued with any extra wisdom or experience. He's still at his prime.

He's still learning.

"I feel the same way. I mean, I've never tried listening to a book outside of recitals at school, but I like reading. I like getting lost in the words, turning pages. But, uh, I can see a strategic benefit to having my hands and eyes free. People can sneak up on you." He doesn't mean enemy forces, though that's always going to be a concern. The subway is where he usually is when crowds start to draw around him, and reporters always somehow know what stop he's getting off at.

Speaking of which, the train pulls into their station, and Steve nods over his shoulder to indicate it's time to go. He holds out his hand to help her up.

"Ah, but with a book, you can always hit them," she says, lightly, while looking at the same time as if she'd never do any such thing.

She accepts his hand, swaying in time with the train with the ease of a veteran commuter.

"Lead on."

Pizza, he mentioned pizza, beautiful pizza...

Natahsa likes eating food. It's a thing.

Steve has the grace not to look too disbelieving, but a slightly arched eyebrow and quiet laugh says all that needs to be said about that.

"You have a point. I could give someone a really nasty paper cut," he says, waiting for the doors to open. While his voice says dry and detached, the thought of Captain America hitting anyone with a book is a little hard to picture. Unless, of course, that person is Hitler.

The doors slide open, and he leads the way out. Left behind on the train, he can hear the kid who noticed him earlier eagerly shout, "Mom! Mooooom! That was Captain America! It was!"

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[not-game-related] Steve, a few months post-Avengers

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