AN: Hello readers! This is my second Avengers fic. I've been wanting to write this one for awhile and since I'm having a lull with my current fic, I decided to post this up here. For anyone who's read my other story (Loki's Match), my OC, Waverly mentioned that had she not been sent to keep an eye onb Loki, she would be helping Steve adjust to his new life. This is what that story is about. This story stands competely alone from Loki's Match and has nothing to do with it, excpet for the fact the the OC is Waverly. It takes place after the movie Captain America and before/during The Avengers. My knowledge of the Avengers is limited to the movies so that's what I'm baseing this off of. There will eventually be Steve/OC (the OC being Waverly). The story will hopefully lead into the Avengers and sort of be my own twist on the movie. The title for the story is inspired by the Shinedown song "I'm Alive" that's in the movie. That'll be important later. Maybe. I haven't decided what the plot is going to be exactly. This chapter is kinda long, but I had to set everything up. It's a little boring so sorry for that. Please review! No bashing! If you don't like it, don't read it.

I own nothing!

Chapter One:

Steve stood in the living room of his new apartment provided to him by SHIELD. He looked around him. Everything was so different. He stared at the contraption in front of him. Nick had called it a television. Apparently, it was some kind of radio but it showed pictures as well. Steve picked up the small black rectangle that controlled the television. He had never seen anything like this in his life. Sure, he had grown up with radios, even some that were remote controlled. But this, there were at least twenty buttons on the thing, all labeled differently. The soldier sighed and slumped down into the arm chair behind him. He gave up trying to figure out the television.

After he had woken up and ran out into the streets of New York, Nick had told him he had been incased in ice for roughly 70 years. Once the sheer shock of the news had died down, Fury had suggested Steve attend some sessions with one of SHIELD's psychiatrists. Steve obliged. He had been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder; something many war veterans experienced. However, due to Steve's altered state, he experienced the disorder in a slightly different manner than most. He had very vivid flashbacks; almost like he was reliving moments from the war and his battle with Red Skull.

Steve simply thought he was depressed. He had lost everything. His family had since passed, his friends gone. He was truly and utterly alone. He had no idea what had happened to the other soldiers in his unit. And then there was Peggy. Thinking of her always caused a pang of sadness. Steve loved her, he knew he did. He had hoped she was starting to feel the same for him. But all that was lost when he brought that plane down into the ocean. He knew what he did was right. He saved so many lives and prevented so much destruction; but at such a great personal cost. Steve sometimes wished the crash landing would have killed him. At least that way he wouldn't have to live with all this pain. But, that was selfish. Steve was a soldier, the soldier. He was Captain America. The people came before himself. Still, Steve wished his altered state would provide him with a way to deal with this huge change; or at least allow him to get drunk.

Steve glanced across the room to the attached kitchen. On the counter was an orange bottle of pills the psychiatrist had prescribed him. Prozac, it was called. The bottle had remained unopened since Steve had gotten it. There were pills for everything now. Back in the 40's, there weren't all these pills and drugs. People learned to deal with their problems, not pop a pill. Maybe Steve just didn't understand modern times. Still, he told himself the pills would only be used as a last resort.

So much other stuff had changed as well. It was all totally overwhelming. He was told that they had won the war. He was told that Red Skull had been defeated, the Cube lost, and the Nazis overpowered. On the other side of the world, two atomic bombs had been dropped on Japan. If there was one good thing about his seventy year sleep, it was the fact that Steve didn't have to live through the experience of the bombings. He had heard terrible stories; the destruction, the pilots who committed suicide, the disease.

Then, so much after that occurred. Steve just couldn't comprehend it all. He had to absorb seventy years of world history in a very short amount of time. The wars in Vietnam and Korea; the problems in the Middle East; all the social changes that had taken place; it made Steve's head spin. He had been given a high school history book, along with some of SHILED's files. He was advised to read these, a bit every night, to acquaint himself with the current state of the world. It helped, but it didn't make the transition into the twenty-first century any easier. Steve understood the historical significance of all that had happened since he had fallen asleep, but he was still the man that time forgot. Cell phones, computers, television, Facebook; there was so much technology he didn't understand. New fads, new music, new styles; he just didn't fit in with people his age. It was all just so different.

Even going to the grocery store was overwhelming. Steve could still remember dealing with the ration. People today had such a wide variety of choices; most of it processed and unhealthy junk in the captain's opinion. There were even machines at the store that made cahiers obsolete. Customers could check themselves out and feed money into a metal receptacle. It was as if interpersonal contact was a thing of the past; people could not communicate without a plastic screen in front of them.

Sitting in the arm chair, he picked up his newspaper lying on the end table. Despite how angry he was, or had been, with SHEILD, Steve really was grateful for all the SHILED and Nick had done for him. They provided him with the apartment, which was exceptionally nice. The living room was fully furnished with a flat screen television. The kitchen had a table for two and all new appliances. Steve had a furnished bedroom for himself and a spare. For company, Fury had told him.

What company? Steve thought. Still, it was nice knowing SHEILD had provided him with every luxury they could. They paid his bills since he was not yet acquainted enough with the world to get a job. They even paid to have the newspaper delivered to him.

Steve opened the paper. It was so different than the papers he had read in his youth. Much larger and thicker, today's newspapers were full of article on everything from the day's events to ads to trivial articles about something called reality TV shows. The pictures were no longer in black and white. They were large, full of color, and made it feel like you were actually there.

Steve began reading an article on the wars in the Middle East when he heard a knock on his door. Setting the paper aside, Steve crossed to the wooded door and undid the latch. Opening the door, Steve came face to face with a young woman. She was much shorter than he was, barely reaching over five feet. Steve's former self would still be taller than the girl. She was smiling up at him, a manila envelope in her hand.

"Hello, Captain Rogers," She said. She held out a slender hand. "I'm Agent Waverly Barton, of SHIELD."

Steve nodded and returned the gesture. "How can I help you, ma'am?"

Releasing Steve's hand, the agent held out her other hand, offering Steve the envelope. "Director Fury sent me here. He thinks I'll be able to help you…" Her voice trailed off.

"Adjust?" Steve offered.

"Yes, adjust. Fury explains everything in there." Agent Barton nodded at the envelope.

The captain slid open the envelope with his thumb and slid out several sheets of paper. One of them was a letter from Director Fury. Another was a profile of the agent that stood before him. There were several other documents on official looking paper that Steve ignored for the time being. He glanced over the letter from Fury.

"You're going to be living here?" Steve asked, an eyebrow raised.

Agent Barton frowned. "Yeah, I was a little put out by that idea too."

Steve's other eyebrow vanished into his bangs.

"Not that it's anything against you," the agent added. "I just think two strangers living together is a bit odd. But Fury's ideas haven't led us astray so far."

Steve nodded, though not completely agreeing with the statement. "I guess that's why I have an extra bedroom. He had this planned all along."

"That's usually how he works," Agent Barton affirmed.

"When will you be moving in, Agent Barton?"

The SHEILD agent gave a small laugh. "You can call me Waverly, Captain."

"Then you can call me Steve."

"Okay, Steve," Waverly agreed. "I can move in whenever you'd like. I figured I'd come over today, though, and introduce myself."

Nodding, Steve stepped aside. "Come in." He let Waverly into his apartment and led her to the couch. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Water would be fine," Waverly answered. "You're very polite. Most guys I deal with aren't so nice."

"Yeah," Steve said from the kitchen. He pulled two glasses down from the cupboard. "I get that a lot. Did something happen in the last seventy years to make manners outdated?"

Waverly laughed. "It seems like that's the case for most people."

Steve nodded and began filling the glasses at the sink. There was a contraption on his refrigerator that produced chilled water and ice cubes, but he had to hook it up to something on the sink and he just couldn't figure it out. Instead, he held the glasses under the tap and then dropped in a few ice cubes from a tray in the freezer. Walking back into the living room, he handed Waverly her glass.

"Thanks," she said. After she took a sip, she made herself more comfortable on the couch.

Steve sat down at the other end, putting his glass on the end-table, beside his newspaper. "Tell me about yourself."

"Well, I'm Waverly Barton. I'm twenty years old. Have you met Clint? Hawkeye?"

Steve shook his head. "I've heard of him." Steve had heard of the marksman; and his partner, Black Widow. He wondered what this had to do with anything.

"He's my brother," Waverly added. "That's how I became involved with SHIELD."

"Are you a sniper as well?" Steve questioned.

Waverly shook her head. "I'm terrible at combat and all that stuff. I work as…" she paused. "I'm more like Fury's secretary than anything."

"And now you're babysitting me." Steve's voice was light, as if he was joking, but his eyes were cold.

"I'm here to help you, Steve." Waverly said. She reached across the couch and placed one of her cool hands on Steve's. "I know it must be hard for you."

Steve's blue eyes met Waverly's brown eyes. Steve could tell she was being genuine. She wasn't like the doctors that he had met at SHIELD. Waverly really did want to help him get used to all the changes he was going through. The captain allowed himself to smile. "Thank you." He said.

Waverly sat back in her seat and sipped her water. "You're welcome. When would you like me to move in?"

Steve thought about it for a moment. It wasn't like he had any plans or anything. He didn't associate with anyone outside of SHILED and the only thing he did regularly was go to the gym down the street. "Whenever you like," he decided. "Just, um." He picked up his cell phone. Fury had given him this device as well. The director told him how to use it, but he had since forgotten. "I'd say call me but I'm afraid I don't know how to work this thing."

Waverly started to laugh, but caught herself. "That's okay. Fury gave me your number. Just press the green button when it rings. I'll call you and let you know. It'll take me a few days to get my stuff ready."

"Sounds fine," Steve said. He looked down and located the green button Waverly had indicated. Why couldn't Fury have just said that? The phone seemed much simpler now.

"I'll call you, then." Waverly drained her glass and stood. "I'll just put this in the sink and then be on my way."

Steve stood as well. "I've got it." He took the glass from the agent. After setting the pair of glasses in the sink, Steve led Waverly back to the door. "It was nice meeting you, ma'am."

"Likewise. Talk to you soon."

"Good evening." Steve watched Waverly walk down the hall to the elevators. He shut the door behind him and then walked back into the small kitchen. His kitchen was equipped with a dish washer, but Steve preferred to hand wash his dishes. Dumping some soap into a rag, he began to scrub the glasses clean. It seemed like a lot of the technology these days was used just to make life easier. What happened to the value of hard work? After rinsing the soap from the glasses and his hands, Steve set them upside-down on a towel to dry. He dried his hands on a rag hanging from the oven handle, and returned to his newspaper in the living room.

Steve made quick work of the article he had been reading earlier, though he had to reread several lines. He still wasn't completely familiar with the jargon of the day. A lot has changed, the captain thought, But so much is still the same. He frowned. The world was still plagued by wars. People were still dying. Sure, there was nothing as terrible as HYDRA, but this new threat, the terrorists, they were indeed bullies. Steve didn't like bullies. Steve longed to suit up and go overseas and correct the problems in the world, but he knew jumping into combat after a seventy year sleep wasn't a good idea.

So for now, he would have to be content with working out at the gym and accepting Agent Barton's help. Maybe once he adjusted, he could go out and make a difference again.

Waking up in a cold sweat seemed to be the norm for Steve. Glancing over at the alarm clock, he saw that it was just after three in the morning. Steve unstuck himself from the sheets and walked into the bathroom a short way down the hall. Filling his hands with cool water, he splashed his face. Steve looked at himself in the mirror. He just couldn't shake the nightmares. This one had been about Bucky and the fall to his death. Steve knew it wasn't his fault. He knew there was nothing he could have done to save him. But the memory of the event still haunted him. After all he had done to save Bucky from HYDRA, a fall was what killed his best friend.

Steve ran a hand down his face and walked from the bathroom to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water. Sitting at the kitchen table, Steve bounced his leg up and down. This was a habit he had had ever since he had awakened. He supposed it was associated with his disorder. Steve's blue eyes fluttered over to the bottle of pills on the counter. Maybe he could just take one. Maybe it would help him sleep. Steve stood up and crossed to the counter. Looking at the bottle, he learned it was advised that he take the pills with food. After dinner, then. Steve decided. He gulped down the last bit of his water and went back to bed.

He had no desire to fall back asleep. He wasn't even that tired, to be honest. He wasn't sure if it was his altered metabolism or the fact that he had been asleep for seventy years, but he hadn't slept more than a few hours every night. The nightmares might have something to do with it too. Steve reached for the manila envelope Waverly had given him that evening. He switched on the light on his bed-side table and pulled out the girl's profile. He began to read.

Waverly had been working with the agency since she was sixteen. She had been working as Fury's secretary most of the time, but was also involved in something the profile deemed 'top secret.' Under family, only Clint Barton was listed. As per regulation, the SHILED profile contained Waverly's vital statistics, but Steve just skimmed over those. Waverly seemed like a nice young woman. Her words were genuine and she really seemed like she wanted to help Steve.

Hopefully the young agent would be able to help Steve. She probably wouldn't be able to help with the nightmares and the post-traumatic stress, but maybe, if he wasn't so out of touch with things, the captain would feel better. And, although he was uncomfortable with the girl moving in with him, at least he wouldn't be so lonely. Steve certainly had misgivings about this whole thing, but he didn't have much of a choice.

Waverly had first introduced herself to Steve on a Monday. Two weekends later, much longer than Steve had expected it would take, the girl moved into his apartment. Her room was already furnished, as was the rest of the apartment, but it took several trips to the moving van to transport all her boxes to her room. Waverly had declined Steve's help, but the super soldier insisted. Once all the boxes had been unloaded, Waverly wiped sweat off her forehead and pulled her frazzled brown hair into a pony tail.

"Well, that was more work than I expected," She gasped. "What do you say we go get something to eat?"

"Great," Steve agreed. "Where to?"

"Ever been to McDonald's?"

Steve shook his head.

"Then this will be the start of your lessons." Waverly fished her wallet out of one of the boxes in her room. Once she was ready, she led Steve from the room.

"What's McDonald's?" He asked as he locked the door to the apartment.

"A fast food place." Seeing the confusion on the captain's face, Waverly added, "Fast food is like… food to go. It's a restaurant but you don't have to wait for your food to be cooked."

"Well how do they know what you want to eat?" Steve asked. He led his new roommate to the elevator.

Waverly let out a small laugh. "They have most of their food already prepared. That's the fast part."

"Sounds… appetizing," Steve said with uncertainty.

"It's not the greatest," admitted Waverly, "But it's all right in a pinch. I can't cook to save my life and after you helped me move, I'd feel bad asking you to make something to eat."

Once out in the street, Waverly took over the lead. It was a typical day in New York, busy as usual. Even in the 40's, New York was a hectic place. Steve felt at home on the sidewalks of the city, but looking around was overwhelming. Huge, flashing billboards dotted the buildings and huge, lavish cars prowled the streets. Waverly was explaining that McDonald's was just a few blocks down the street. Steve tried to listen, but there was so much going around him that he struggled to understand. Young people and teenagers stalked the sidewalks with wires sticking from their ears, connected to some kind of electronic device. They took no notice of their surroundings and, while Waverly maneuvered the streets with ease, Steve dodged around several youngsters. Other teenagers had their thumbs clicking away at cell phones. Supposedly, phones had something called a keyboard, which was like a typewriter. Steve still hadn't figured out his phone. Waverly told him they were texting, whatever that was. Even the adults seemed engrossed in this activity. Everyone from mothers with children swinging from their arms to men in business suits with briefcases had their thumbs pressed to their phones.

They had reached their destination. The building was bedecked in red and yellow and had something labeled a 'PlayPlace' attached to it. Steve followed Waverly through the automatic doors. She led him to the counter.

"What would you like?" She asked the captain.

Steve looked up at the menus hanging above their heads. Big Mac. McFish. Chicken McBites. Nothing sounded like food. Steve saw, in a corner of the lighted board, a picture of a cheese burger. "I'll just have a cheese burger," he said to Waverly.

"What do you want to drink?"

"They still have Coke a Cola?"

Waverly nodded. She stepped up to the register and addressed the worker. "I'd like two cheeseburgers, please. A small fry. A large Coke and a small root beer." The worker pushed some buttons on the register and read out their total. Waverly fished some money out of her wallet and paid for their meal.

Steve felt guilty. Waverly shouldn't be paying for their meal, even if it was her job to help Steve adjust. Steve was a gentleman, he should have offered to pay. Stepping up to the agent, he pulled his wallet from the pocket of his leather jacket. "I've got it," he said.

"It's all right, Steve," Waverly insisted. "My treat."

Their food was ready in just a few short minutes. It really was fast food. The worker handed their meal to them on a red plastic tray and Waverly led Steve to a booth as far from the PlayPlace as possible.

"Kids are sort of loud here," she explained. Waverly placed the tray on the table and took a seat. Steve slid into the booth opposite her. Waverly handed him his cheeseburger and pointed out which drink was his.

"I really should pay you back for this," Steve said.

Waverly shook her head. "It's okay, really."

"A lady shouldn't have to pay."

Waverly smiled. "Steve, it's not a date."

The soldier's cheeks flushed red. "That wasn't what I was insinuating."

Waverly shook her head and bit into her cheeseburger. After she swallowed, she gave Steve another kind smile. "It's fine. Really, it is. Chivalry isn't as big as it was in your day. Girls can pay for themselves."

Steve nodded and took a bite of his dinner as well. To his surprise, it wasn't all that bad. It was obvious the food was of the precooked, processed variety that was plentiful in the grocery store, but it wasn't totally bad. "That's just how out of touch I am," he said after gulping down some Coke. "It was unheard of for women to pay. It just wasn't polite."

"You missed a lot while you were asleep. Women have changed." Waverly let out a sigh. "Men have changed too. In the 60's, there was a wave called feminism. It was all a bit radical in my opinion but I agree with a lot of it as well. Women have become a lot more independent since World War II. We can pay for ourselves. We can even pay for our boyfriends and no one thinks it's a big deal. Although…'' Waverly trailed off.

"What?"

Waverly let out a dry chuckle that was void of humor. "Well, in the case of my boyfriend, I pay for everything. I mean, I don't care. It'd just be nice for him to return the gesture sometimes." Waverly huffed out a sigh before returning to her meal. "But that's not something you have to be worried about. Let's get back to you. Why don't you tell me how you've been doing so far? We can go from there."

Steve wasn't quite sure if it was just his old fashioned ideals, but the thought of Waverly's boyfriend taking advantage of the girl, like it sounded, made Steve feel angry. He could learn as much about the current world as he wanted, it didn't mean he'd have to like it. He would always stick by the values and ideals he was raised upon, but he'd still have to accept the way things were now. Steve took another drink. "Well," he said slowly. "I've been reading a history book. I know what happened and why it's important, but, imagine being frozen for seventy years. Falling asleep with the world one way, waking up with it another. I just can't wrap my head around everything."

Waverly nodded. "It must have been terrible for you."

Steve sighed. "It was. It is." The captain paused, his mind flashing back to his last conversation with Peggy. It was one thing to be upset with himself that he had effectively abandoned his unit and his country. It was another to feel the hurt and disappointment at leaving Peggy.

Sensing his despair, Waverly spoke up again. "How about you tell me what you like to do for fun?"

Steve looked up at her. Fun? He hadn't had time for fun in years… many, many years. Ever since the war had started, he had been set on joining the military. Then, he became Captain America and he used his newly acquired skills to defeat HYDRA. And then, he had been encased for seventy years. He racked his brain, remembering the days before the war, the days with Bucky. Bucky was big, strong, and athletic. As was the norm, he was involved in football like most high school boys. Steve wasn't at all athletic in high school, so he didn't make the cut, but he and Bucky were known to play with kids in the neighborhood. "I've always like football, even though I've never been very good. Now that I'm Captain America, though, I can probably make a decent tackle."

Waverly laughed. "We'll have to find you a team to root for, then." Another laugh. "I'm sure the Patriots would love to have you as a fan."

Steve nodded, though he didn't really know who the Patriots were. A football team, obviously, but for who, Steve didn't know. He thought back. He had gone to a movie every now and then. Waverly seemed pleased when he said this. Movies were apparently a popular pastime and were easy enough to do.

There was one more thing Steve always wanted to do, but had been too afraid to do. Dancing. He had agreed to go dancing with Peggy. Steve swallowed at the memory. "I guess there's dancing," he said quietly. "I've always wanted to go, but never have."

"Why not?"

Steve heaved a sigh. "Never had the right partner."

"Maybe we can find you one," Waverly suggested.

Steve didn't bother answering. He wanted Peggy, but he knew that was out of the question. He didn't even know if she was still alive, let alone if she remembered him. And even if she did, she would be in her nineties. Steve was still technically in his early twenties. Even if she still had feelings for him, and was still single, Steve knew a relationship with her was out of the question.

Steve and Waverly finished the rest of their meal in relative silence. Waverly dumped their empty cups and wrappers into a trash can and then led Steve back out into the street.

"So, what do you want to know about?" Waverly asked on their way back to the apartment.

"Why don't you tell me how to use this?" Steve pulled his phone out of his pocket. "I still can't figure it out. What the heck is texting?"

Waverly took the phone from Steve. It was a smartphone with a touch screen. Waverly had just gotten a smartphone herself and still wasn't quite familiar with all the new features the phone provided. She laughed. "Well, you and I are on the same page there. These smartphones are new to me too. But texting is simple enough." Waverly showed Steve how to begin a new text message. He struggled to remember the sequence of buttons. "And then you just type whatever it is you want to say."

"Why don't you just phone people?" Steve asked. He watched as Waverly typed a sample message that she was going to send from Steve's phone to her own. "And what does lawl mean?"

Waverly handed the phone back to Steve. "Texting is just simpler, I guess. And that isn't lawl. It's L. O. L. It stands for laugh out loud. Textspeak."

Steve nodded. "Lol. Okay. Got it." He pocketed his phone for the time being. Most of this new stuff seemed trivial to him. He turned his face to Waverly as they crossed the street. "How about we talk about something… not so…"

"Silly?" Waverly offered. "Sure. Shoot."

"When I took that plane down, F.D.R. was president. Who's the president now?" The soldier asked.

"Right now, it's Barack Obama," the agent answered. "But this is an election year. It looks like it's going to be him against Republican Mitt Romney. That's all I'm going to say on that. There's only a few things I refuse to talk about with people. Politics and religion."

"Why is that?"

Waverly sighed. "That's one of the things about society today. People are adamant in their beliefs but as soon as someone has a differing opinion, arguments start. My high school political science class was torture. A third of the class was republican. Another third were democrats. All our classes turned into debates. And not the good kind. The other third just didn't care. So I just don't like to talk about that kind of stuff with people."

"Well, I won't argue with you," Steve said. "We can talk about what ever you'd like."

By now the rather odd pair of companions had reached the apartment building. They entered the building and boarded the elevator. "So," Steve went on, "Do you think I'm still registered to vote after I've been asleep for seventy years?" He flashed a smile.

Waverly's head tilted back in a laugh. "You're freakin' Captain America. I'm pretty sure they'll let you vote."

Steve chuckled. "I would hope so." The soldier unlocked the apartment door and stepped aside to let Waverly in. "Oh! I almost forgot." Digging in the pocket of his coat, he pulled out another key. "I got this from the landlord. Since you'll be living here, you'll need your own key."

"Thanks." Waverly took the key from Steve. She took a moment to attach it to her existing set of keys while Steve shut the door behind them and locked it for the night.

"Thank you for dinner," Steve said, awkwardly.

"It's no big deal," she assured the captain. "Really, just forget it." Waverly let out a yawn. "I think I'm going to unpack a little and then go to bed. I have to report to Director Fury in the morning so I won't see you until sometime tomorrow afternoon."

Steve nodded.

"If you need anything before then, just let me know."

Steve nodded again. "Good night, miss."

Waverly rolled her eyes but Steve could tell it was in a playful manner. "I told you. It's Waverly. Good night Steve."

Steve nodded yet again and watched the young agent disappear into her room. The captain slid his boots off and placed them beside the door. He then slid his jacket off, remembering to take his phone out of the pocket, and hung it in the small closet between the front door and the entrance to the kitchen. Though it was now late in the evening, Steve didn't feel tired yet. Entering the kitchen, he remember his resolution to begin taking his pills around dinner time. He poured himself a glass or orange juice and took a pill from the bottle. So far, the pills hadn't helped much. Steve still had nightmares, almost nightly. He still found himself performing little rituals that eased the stress and anxiety he harbored. Like the leg shaking. He noticed when his mind was not fully occupied, the leg shaking began. Sometime it was toe tapping. Whenever the rituals became too cumbersome, Steve would grab his gym bag and head down the street for an intense work out. That always calmed him down. Tonight, though, Steve felt more relaxed than he had been in a while. He finished his orange juice and went into the living room. He had finally figured out the remote control so he turned on the television and found the History Channel. He had been watching this channel a lot. From the programs, he gleaned information that help him place himself back in time. The show tonight wasn't all that helpful though. It was called 'Pawn Stars.' Steve had learned that the title was a clever play on the phrase 'porn stars.' That was another thing about today's society that Steve just could not wrap his head around. In his day, sexuality was something one kept private. Sure, in the army there had been soldiers who had slept around in various cities they were stationed in. And there was that one woman who had kissed Steve out of nowhere. But that was nothing compared to how promiscuous young people were today.

Thankfully, though, this show had nothing to do with sex. It was about a family that owned a pawn shop. There were some interesting objects on the show every now and then; even some artifacts from World War II. Steve liked those episodes the best. Although, they made him feel extremely old.

Steve settled into his couch to watch the show. Though he didn't feel tired at all, the show eventually lulled him to sleep. The super soldier rested with his head propped up on the couch arm and a quilt draped over his upper body. Tonight, he slept nightmare free.