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LITERALLY, IN ABOUT SEVENTY YEARS, STEVE ROGERS WAS NERVOUS.
"Are you most people?"
"I'll let you know when I think it's a date."
Just shortly sending off the Demigods back to Asgard, Steve and Olivia decided to return to SHIELD almost immediately. The Battle of New York might have been over, but residents of the City of Lights were left in a dire state.
The consequences were devastating. Civilians, innocently caught in the crossfires were injured, trapped, or in trauma. The entire world was in turmoil, having to sleep with the knowledge knowing that they weren't alone. Earth was no longer just another tiny celestial body that orbited around the sun. There were dangerous neighbours who might make Earth their foe.
Steve and Olivia's casual, friendly dinner happened three days later, when the dust had settled and normalcy was gaining its traction again.
"A celebratory meal! It's only customary after every man's first war. Especially if they spent 70 years in ice," Olivia grinned.
Come 6pm, Steve speeded past a window in his apartment. An orange glow casting on his face and blinded him momentarily, forcing him to stop looking for whatever he was looking for. The sun was setting, dripping spectrums of red, orange and yellow across the horizon, and he found himself admiring the view with a mild stinging heart.
Life was moving faster than he could ever comprehend. A few days ago, Steve was brought out of ice, joined the Avengers and fought against what seemed like the end of the world. Today, he wrestled with a tie.
Steve stared intently at his reflection. His palms glided across the perfectly pressed blazer... "Am I doing too much?" It was a tradition to wear a well-fitted suit in his era, it conveyed a certain amount of respect and status.
An exasperated groan later, he ripped off the suffocating tie and ditched the fancy suit. Biggest irony it would be, if he failed at keeping up with modern day fashion for a dinner aimed at celebrating his successful adjustment.
Bucky always knew what to wear for dates. Just like that, he missed his best friend. He couldn't move for some time. Nothing in this century felt like even a shred of familiarity to him. He had left his anchors far behind when he dived headfirst into the waters.
When he tried to sleep last night, he could only envision Peggy Carter. The unbelievably brave, strong, iron-willed, righteous and beautiful Peggy Carter. But fate worked differently.
Steve's advanced hearing easily picked up a muffled buzz in the living room, the signal of a text message distracting his thoughts from the British woman. The device lit up in the gloom of the setting sun splashed across his apartment. Unfortunately for him, he still didn't know his way around the device, but he could see the preview.
