This piece is a bit of an experiment for me, writing chapters or vignettes based around one of the many senses that humans possess. And I've been wanting to write something with Steve and Darcy because I love those two together so very, very much. As the summary says, these are going to be glimpses and short scenes between them, so there probably won't be too much of a detailed plot from here on out. Matter of fact, I'm sort of winging this entire thing, which explains the dodgy summary. But it's fun, and isn't that what matters?

Thanks for reading!

Chapter One: Olfactoception

Sense: "A system that consists of a group of sensory cell types that responds to a specific physical phenomenon."

It's common knowledge that we utilize our senses to discover the world around us. It's this combination of senses that lets us find out about the world, classify incoming data, form thoughts and perceptions about situations, and make those connections that, in the end, make us ultimately human.

If someone could reach into Steve Rogers' head and create his ideal vision of the perfect bookstore then the place known simply as The Bookshop came pretty darn close. A narrow store in the basement of an old brownstone that stretched back into the shadows, flickering lights that were making a valiant effort to cut through the dark and heavy air, aisles created from creaky and leaning wooden shelves overloaded with books both new and used, stretching all the way up so that the topmost books practically brushed against the low ceilings, and the sound of rustling pages one of the only sounds that echoed through the space.

Steve's eyes flicked along the titles on the shelves that were designated the history section. The titles he was seeing were new and modern additions, a subtle reminder that time had marched forward at a steady pace while he was asleep under the ice. Still, it was his world now (a second chance he had never, ever believed would be possible, to be honest) and it wouldn't do him any good not to get caught up on what he'd missed. While S.H.I.E.L.D.'s cultural immersion program, or whatever term they had come up with to call the crash course on 21st century life, was sufficient to get him caught up on many things, they still encouraged him to go out and learn on his own. This led Steve to The Bookshop with the intent of picking up some supplemental materials.

There was no real plan or guide for what sort of books he was looking for, just to find something that felt unfamiliar with the hopes of filling in the blanks. Okay, it may not have been one of his best plans, but sometimes it was fun just to wander and see what he could end up with, Steve thought. After picking a book about counterculture in the 1960s, Steve turned the corner into another book, and came upon the rather improbable sight of a young woman with her nose buried deeply in the pages of a book.

It wasn't just the position of someone a bit hard of vision trying to read the words in front of her. In fact, given the woman's position and the way her glasses were practically smashed up against the pages she probably wouldn't be able to see anything at all. The white plastic strings running over her chest and weaving their way up under her dark hair combined with the muffled music noises that seemed to be emanating from around her indicated that she probably couldn't hear anything either. Steve watched as she took a deep breath, inhaling through the nose and making her shoulders move with the motion of it.

He had a brief moment of thinking that he shouldn't be there watching that moment, but the thought shriveled, cocked up its toes, and died when the young woman's head turned, eyes flicking towards Steve. She seemed to freeze in place for a few seconds, then ever so slowly lowered the book away from her face, pulled one of the white strings out of her ear, and shot him a very sheepish glance. "I like how they smell," she said. The rest of the words tumbled out, as if she couldn't quite control the flow. "I know it's incredibly dorky of me, but there's just something about how old books smell. And no matter how many books I can cram onto my Kindle I still haven't found a way to replicate the scent, which kind of takes away from the whole experience. Sometimes, at least. Not always." The words petered to a stop and she snapped the book shut, tapping short fingernails on the bright green dust jacket. The cover may have had a horse on the cover, but he couldn't be sure.

"They're timeless," Steve blurted. "No matter where you go or how far you are from home, a book's gonna smell like a book." While he'd never actually thought about the implications in depth, he suspected that was exactly why he was so resistant to the e-reader Tony kept trying to foist off onto him.

She tilted her head to the side, looking over at him as a wave of dark hair fell in her face. "I never thought of it like that," she said, brushing the errant lock out of the way. "But it does make sense. New Mexico or New York, you can always find a book ready and waiting for you. You crack it open and there's that smell of dust and paper, and maybe just a little bit of time. If time had a smell, of course."

"What does time smell like?" Steve found himself asking. 'Okay, not one of the best questions you've ever come up with, Rogers,' he then reprimanded himself.

She wrinkled her brow and pursed her lips, glancing down at the book and then back up at him. "Tell you what," she eventually said. "Come get a coffee with me, and by the time we're done I'll have a better answer for you than time smells like a book."

"Uh…"

"I don't bite," she said, with a grin that implied biting could and would happen if it were welcome in certain situations. "I'm Darcy, by the way."

"Steve." He blinked quickly, trying to shake off the brief moment of knee-jerk panic. Sometimes it was hard to jump headfirst into the future, but going out for coffee with a bold dame who liked books wouldn't be a bad way to help him get used to the now. It didn't hurt that she was pretty too, with a figure consisting of curves and waves without harsh, sharp edges. The books and their timelessness would still be there later. Besides, she didn't seem to recognize him as Captain America, something which was becoming harder and harder to avoid the more time went on. To her, he suspected, he was just another fella wandering around in a bookshop, an idea which kind of appealed to him. "You know, I could go for a coffee."

"Awesome." She smiled widely then, full lips spreading to reveal smooth, white teeth. "I know just the place."

About an hour into the conversation, it came out that Darcy was the same person who assisted Jane Foster, had once tased a demi-god, and knew exactly who Steve Rogers was. When he mentioned that Thor had told him the story of his and Darcy's first encounter more than once her response was to grin widely, toss her arms up in the air, and proclaim: "My reputation precedes me!"