Title: A Proper Send-Off
Author: Sgt. Pepperony
Fandom: Avengers (MCU)
Main Pairing: Steve/Wanda
Rating: M/E
Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers characters. Property of Marvel and Disney. Lyrics belong to Adele. Smut in later chapters.

Round my hometown,
Memories are fresh.
Round my hometown,
Ooh the people I've met
Are the wonders of my world.
Are the wonders of my world.
Are the wonders of this world.
Are the wonders of now.

Chapter One

Captain Steven G. Rogers had been back in his home borough of Brooklyn for less than five minutes when he felt the ghosts wonder over his skin. This was the place where his mother died, and where the memorial stones of his father and his best friend were erect. Note that they were memorial stones and not actual gravestones. The body of Joseph Rogers was piled into a mass grave given the copious number of corpses that that amounted in the aftermath of the mustard gas attack, while the body of James Buchannan Barnes was never recovered from the Baltic mountains.

For Steve, this was not a homecoming. Brooklyn had not felt like home in years.

His old home had been sold off thus it meant he had to check into a hotel room. It was nice, but standard. Basically enough to shower, keep stuff and sleep in rather than spending time in the room. As Steve shaved, he noticed how aged he looked. He was only thirty-one, yet he looked as though he was pushing forty. That was mostly due to lack of sleep. Being stationed in Sokovia meant his sleep being disturbed for a variety of reasons, yet it was mostly the bombings and gunfire.

Once he was sure that his face was no longer rough, he wiped the excess shaving cream, put deodorant and aftershave on, and dressed in a blue shirt and jeans. Even if he wanted to, he could not stay at home in silence. There was a bar on the corner of the block. Even if drinking was not a high priority for him, he could at least be surrounded by people who looked as though they were having a good time.

Except when he entered the bar, it was a little scarce. There were two men playing pool, another two playing darts, three men sitting at the bar, and finally, the bartender, who was a woman. Not just a woman but a very young woman – certainly younger than her clientele. Given how quiet the night was, she was sitting on a stool behind the bar, reading To Kill a Mockingbird. Her dark hair was strapped back and she was wearing a red shirt with black jeans.

When Steve sat down in front of the bar, she lifted her head up, gave a small smile and said, "Hey."

Steve detected an accent though since it was an Eastern European one, he barely noticed it at first. Being stationed in Sokovia had made him become accustomed to the accent. He smiled back and said, "You have any Irish whiskey?"

"You're in Brooklyn; of course we have Irish whiskey."

"Should have known," Steve replied chuckling slightly. "You'd think a son of Irish immigrants would know that."

"Your parents were from Ireland?" she asked pouring a glass of the whiskey.

"Yeah. Where are you from?"

"Sokovia." Steve felt a small chill go down his spine. The bartender immediately caught onto his reaction. "Does that bother you?"

"No. I just got back from Sokovia. I was stationed there." It was now the bartender to go quiet. "Sorry."

"Don't be. I left long before it all started happening."

"Oh. Right." There was an awkward silence between the two before Steve started, "We should start again. I'm Steve."

"Wanda."

"So, Wanda. How are you finding the book?"

"I think it's good so far. I have to write a paper on it."

"You in college?"

"GED. Can't really get a proper job without a high school equivalency certificate."

"Would you go to college though?"

"Maybe. I'm not even sure what I want to do yet."

"So you're stuck here so you can pay your rent?"

"No rent to pay. Owner says I can have the apartment upstairs rent free."

"Bit shady isn't it?"

"Well, he's paying rent on this place. He's just away in New Mexico for the week so I'm looking after the apartment."

"Oh right."

"Sort of less creepy?"

"Well, it's better than what I thought."

"I know. So, Steve, you are from New York?"

"Around here actually. Long time ago. My home is probably gone."

"Any family?"

"No. All gone. You?"

"My brother. He's in the Rebel Army though in Sokovia."

"They're good men. Better than the person they are fighting."

"He's the best brother in the world."

"But he sent you away?"

"Better than living in a bomb shelter."

"True. Not going to look forward to it when I go back to Sokovia."

"When?"

"Three days from now. I'm just here on leave."

"Not much of a leave."

"Given my skills, they can't afford to keep me off duty for long. They're just letting me off for Veteran's Day."

"Oh. Anyone else?"

"Yes. Don't get special treatment."

"Seeing your girlfriend… or boyfriend?"

Steve chuckled, "No. No girlfriend."

"So, all alone in the world? That really sucks."

"It's not too bad. Can't get homesick if you're not attached to anything."

"I suppose."

"You get homesick?"

"A little, but… You know."

"I know." Steve necked down his whiskey and put the empty glass.

"Another?" Wanda asked.

"Go on then."