A/N: I know that inhalers where not invited until after the war but I like the idea of nervous Steve taking his inhaler
Also: Edited timeline a bit from fist posting to fit into my endgame. I am not an expert on WWII. But I want to me close to semi accurate/ minus the hydra thing
love feedback. please Review
Disclaimer: Marvel owns all the Captain America Characters except my own OC.
Else Jorgensen moved her last trunk into the bedroom closet and wiped her dusty hands on her apron. She should have asked for a discount on her first months rent purely on the state of her small flat. Dust and grime covered every surface. "Beggars can't be choosers," she chided herself. "Just needs a little elbow grease."
Else moved out from her bedroom to survey the rest of her apartment. The room is small but she believes she will can make it cozy and comfortable. Her new flat came furnished. There is a threadbare couch and sitting chair situated around the large radio sitting in front of the window to her balcony. There was a fireplace in the corner but her landlord claimed the radiator would provide more than enough heat to keep her warm in the winter. There is table with three mismatched chairs behind the couch caked in dust. Thankfully the appliances in her kitchenette appear to be in working order. Meager but she no longer required glamour and fancy things.
It was a hot summer day so she decides to opens the windows to let in a small breeze of musty New York air. Leaning her head out the window she can hear the sounds of the city traffic and the shouting of children playing in the alley behind her building. 'My building, my hjem.' The thought brings a smile to her face. It had been a long time since she had been able to call a place her home.
America is the land of opportunity. She didn't buy into the American dream. She had suffered too much to believe in anything but reality. Her reality was being an immigrant during a time of war. Her hometown no longer existed. The Nazis made sure of that. They destroyed everything, but they hadn't destroyed her spirit. Reality was starting over in a new place country.
She could be considered lucky. She had been studying at university in 1939 and when the Nazis war machine met little resistance in Poland and France she knew she needed to leave. She traded her mother's diamond broach to secure passage out of Denmark. She had escaped before the Nazi's invasion. She was weary of travel and ready to take a break. So in the sumer of 1940 she was happy to stop running in New York City.
Perhaps she could become another faceless resident of the city that never slept. She was no stranger to having to keep on the move but never when the stakes of being stagnate were so high.
"A fresh start." She had a habit of talking to herself.
She moved over to the radio and pulled out a record and placed it on the gramophone, a little mood music for her house cleaning. The overture of "Der Fliegende Hollander-the flying Dutchman' fill the small room. She closes her eyes and sways to the music of her favorite opera. She picks up a rag and sets to work.
Steve stood outside the door to the formerly vacant apartment that is directly above his. It had been hours of constant loud music and banging on the floors. He squared his shoulders and knocked on the door. He hoped he was making the right decision to approach his new neighbor. He would be respectful and direct, let them know that they needed to keep their music, god what was It they were listening to, at a reasonable level.
There was no answer. He knocked louder and eventually pounded on the door. The banging stopped and soon after the music was turned off. Steve took a deep breath ready to face this possible new threat. Standing at exactly five feet tall and just over ninety pounds the unknown was always a possible threat. He heard the chain on the door and the breath he was holding escaped him when he saw the most beautiful creature he had ever seen open the door.
She was stunning. She was taller than him, lets face it prepubescent boys were taller than him, and he had to tilt his head slightly to look her in the eyes. Her face was streaked with grime but there was no denying she was beautiful. Her skin was fair with a few freckles sprinkled across her nose. Her auburn hair was slowly coming out of her bun and clinging to her sweat dampened cheeks. Her eyes were blue and set symmetrically in her heart shaped face. Her cheeks and lips held a rosey tint. He was staring at her lips. What did she just say?
"Ja? Can I help you?" O goodness she had been talking to him and he was just staring at her lips.
"umm. Uh. Yes. Hi." A deep blush climbed up his neck and cheeks. He would have preferred an angry ape of a man to her. Then she smiled and she became even more beautiful.
"Can I help you?" Her voice was sweet with a slight accent.
"Yes ma'am. I'm Steve Rogers and I live right below you just downstairs. I guess that makes us neighbors." He held out his hand to her. She took his slender hand in her small one and shook it firmly.
"Godt to meet you. I'm Else Jorgensen." She dipped in a small curtsey than brushed her hair out of her face. Leaving a larger dirt smudge on her for forehead.
"Where are you from? You don't sound like you're from around these parts."
"No I'm not." She smiled "Denmark actually."
"Denmark, can't say that I've been. Does everybody listen to loud strange music in Denmark?" Steve blushed an even brighter crimson at his failed attempt to joke.
"Oo. I am so sorry, was I bothering you? I was just cleaning house and I needed a little company, Wagner seems to fit the bill in a pinch. He can't help it that his countrymen can't keep their hands to themselves."
"Wagner huh?"
"O yes Der Fliegende Hollander or how is it you say…the flying Dutchmen. I know opera isn't for everyone but it reminds me of home." Her smile was open and infections, her eyes so bright looking at him he couldn't help returning her smile like besotted school boy. He was besotted. She looked at him and not through him.
"I am truly sorry, not very neighborly of me. How can I make it up to you?"
"No need ma'am, I really was just wanting to introduce myself and welcome you to the building." He hated how is voice hitched. It was bad enough he was smaller than her, now he sounded like a fool too.
"That's godt. I'm a bit of a mess at the moment or I would invite you in for some tea." Her eyes sparkled when she saw the blush creep up his cheeks again.
"Not necessary. Well, I think I have properly introduced myself, so I will be going, leave you to your, your uh house cleaning." Else grabs his wrist as he turns to walk away.
"Is that really how you are going to leave? In the pictures a handsome American turns up at your door for a meet cute and he asks a girl to dinner. You just leave?" Steve's mouth drops open. Several questions raced through his head. Did she just call me handsome? What was a meet-cute? Is she crazy? A date? He swallowed back the lump in his throat.
"I…I…um…what?"
"Maybe my English is no good. I ask you than. Steve, I don't know anybody in the city. Would you like to dinner with me?" The corners of her mouth were slightly upturned in a soft smile.
"I…I…I"
"Ja?"
"Ja." Her smile is radiant when he says yes. A few minutes later when he is safely behind his door h hasn't completely processed what has happened.
Bucky is sitting on his couch reading a magazine. "You get that new neighbor to turn off that god awful ruckus?"
"It's the flying Dutchmen."
"A what?" Bucky finally looks up from his magazine. "Wow buddy, where's your inhaler?" As if being kicked out of his trance he pulls the single dose inhaler out of his pocket and gets a lung full of air. "What happened to you up there?"
Steve looks at the ceiling than back at his childhood friend. "I think I just got a date with a dame."
