Author's note: This was meant to be a drabble but it got out of control, so I'm leaving it here as a separate story. Also - angst is the best!

He didn't belong.

The thought felt like a sucker punch that left Steve breathless, knocking all wind out of him.

Gotham was dark and grimy and hopeless, and from what little of it he'd seen since Barry – the Flash, the fastest man alive! – brought him here was less than impressive. It made him feel odd in his own skin, leaving him conflicted. The future was far from the utopia he half-heartedly hoped it would turn into, but even so, Steve couldn't help but feel out of place – in the city, in the world, in this time. So far behind he didn't know if he'd ever be able to catch up. It beat being dead, he could admit that much, but he still couldn't shake off the feeling of restlessness running along his skin like jolts of electric current. Like they were going to see what a fraud he was – that Diana would see that – and send him back where he truly belonged. Where his body was nothing but ashes and dust.

Sometimes, Steve wished they'd do it already, just to get it over with.

He didn't understand half of the things they were talking about, could barely stand the condescending looks and Bruce Wayne's smugness over his gadgets that, to Steve, looked like toys, if only because he couldn't for the life of him figure out how could someone – anyone – make them real. The phones that carried all the information known to humankind could fit in a pocket, the jets hundreds of times faster than any plane he'd ever flown, the cars that could be operated without a driver. Hell, even the fridge in this goddamned place was smarter than all the people from Steve's time, combined. It certainly was smarter than him, and it seemed to hate him, too. Why else would it spew ice cubes at him otherwise, even though it was pretty tame around everyone else?

"You gotta find an approach to Rosie," Barry told Steve the other day, fondly patting the rumbling monster on the side wall like it was a gigantic pet of some kind. Apparently, it had a name, too. Go figure.

At the time, thought, he didn't have it in him to contemplate that particular discover, what with being too busy ignoring Bruce's smirk – the man just had to walk in at this exact moment.

Steve wasn't sure what made his judgement so much worse than everyone else's, and to be completely honest, he wasn't sure he wanted to. It wasn't like he didn't know that he didn't deserve to be staying in Wayne's home – out of some charity, no less. Steve never asked for it, but Diana insisted because it was easier. Every day, he was more and more tempted to leave. It wasn't his fault. None on this was. He didn't ask for it – even though he was grateful beyond measure for the rescue. But even so, Steve hated being under all this scrutiny, like he was a lab rat that couldn't figure out the way out of the maze.

He was trying, for crying out loud.

Arthur was fun, his own relationship with the modern technology that the Wayne's mansion was stuffed with not much better than Steve's, and Barry was more than eager to show Steve the ropes, even though he still didn't quite figure out how cat videos and something called Angry Birds could help him fit in, but he wasn't the one to argue. Alfred was a decent company, and even though Vic was barely ever in a mood for any sort of conversation, he wasn't making Steve feel like he was a complete freak.

Bruce Wayne, on the other hand, made it very clear he didn't want Steve there – not so much in his home as in this century, and he was subtle enough about it not to make it too obvious, which somehow made Steve feel even more like shit.

And then there was Diana…

Steve tossed the tv remote he was twiddling with on the couch and stood up, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallways. Wherever everyone was, they didn't bother to enlighten him or tell him when they were coming back, the silence pressing down in on him like a cement block.

He wondered how long it would be before Diana got bored with trying to drag him into the future, how long it would be before she realized that he was holding her back. And it killed him a little to think of the moment when she'd figure out that he was probably too much burden for her to even bother. She meant too much for this world, her life too big compared with his small existence.

Steve wandered absently to the kitchen. Picked up an apple from the bowl sitting on the counter and sat it back, his stomach churning - so much so that he didn't even have it in him to turn around when the staccato of footsteps broke the silence around him, the delicate scent of her perfume preceding her appearance in the room.

Diana slid toward him, her hand landing on the small of his back.

"Sorry I'm late," she brushed a kiss to Steve's cheek. "Barry decided that it would be fun to…"

She trailed off and took him in properly when he barely responded to her touch, unable to even meet her gaze.

"Steve?"

He was sort of curious about Barry's shenanigans, to a degree. Yet, the weight pressing on his chest was too much to bear and a few hours of being trapped in the hell of his own mind did nothing to lift it.

Steve pulled away from her, ran his fingers along the surface of the countertop and then rubbed his jaw with his hand, his gaze darting around the kitchen full of devices that made him feel like they were smarter than he could ever be. Like he was five centuries behind on everything that was nothing but mere convenience for everyone else.

"How long are we gonna do it?" He asked in a hollow voice.

"Stay here?" Diana inquired, confused. "I know this hasn't been entertaining, but I'm going back to Paris next week. You will come with me, yes?"

Steve drummed his fingers against the countertop, his throat tight. "No, I mean why are you doing this? Why do you bother with me? With us?"

He heard her inhale sharply, his senses tunneling, zeroing in on the two of them and nothing else.

"Steve, I don't understand."

Her voice was small, confused, and he hated himself for doing this to her.

"Is there some kind of expiration date to this experiment?" It was an awful thing to say but he couldn't seem to stop now, the bitter aftertaste of the past few weeks making him want to wash his mouth with something, preferably something vintage. "What's gonna happen if I don't learn how to use the intranet in the next month?"

"The internet," she corrected automatically, and grimaced when Steve flinched.

"My point exactly." He shook his head and stared straight ahead, at the damned fridge, no less.

Diana walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist from the side. She rested her chin on his shoulder and pressed her forehead to his temple. He could feel her breath on his cheek and the brush of her eyelashes against his skin as her eyes dropped shut.

"Because I love you," she whispered after a few moments when he rested his hands on her arm, unable to resist the urge to touch her that seemed to never go away. Like she could disappear. "That's why."

"You can do better," he said softly.

"I don't want to do better," Diana murmured. "You wanted to have more time. We have it now, all the time in the world."

Steve exalted slowly, feeling his body deflate as he did so. "It's like I've run out of it before we even started," he turned to look at her, their faces so close he could see a faint dusting of freckles over her nose, his heart aching with missing her even when she was right here in front of him. "This is too much sometimes. I don't even know where to start."

She ran her fingers through his hair, her face softening, a small, uncertain smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I will never not want you," she promised, studying him for a long moment. "It must be confusing, I know. But it doesn't mean…" She leaned in and kissed him lightly. "It doesn't change anything. I don't need any of this, I don't need computers or a microwave that can talk to me. But I need you, Steve, and I have spent a hundred years missing you." Her thumb ran over his cheekbone. "Do you think I would give up on you now?"

Steve allowed himself to smile back, finally facing her and cupping her cheek with his palm. "Well, that's good news, I guess." He kissed her on the forehead, feeling the tension leave his body, the tightness in his chest easing at last. "I only have one question."

Diana laughed quietly, the sound of it sending a shiver down his body. A very good one.

"Anything."

Steve's brows furrowed as he looked around the kitchen past her shoulder. "Which one is a microwave?"

To be continued...

A/N: I hope this was fun, in a painful way. Let me know what you think!