Steve is a pilot.

Well, he used to be a pilot, but in this day and age, he's going to need a hell of a lot more training before he tries to fly one of the streamlined monsters in Bruce's hangar (and he will, someday, just not someday soon).

Diana takes pleasure in describing the technological feat that is the Invisible Jet (I-Jet for short) as they take their seats in the plane, the interior of which resembles a miniature version of the headquarters he'd gotten a glimpse of back in the Batcave. While not entirely invisible, it possesses unparalleled cloaking capabilities, making it virtually impossible for the naked eye or radar to catch it. The more she explains, the more Steve smiles and nods, attempting to shake away his racing thoughts.

Maybe before Steve would have been more interested in all of the technical details, but all his mind keep rushing back to is what happened the last time he was on a plane. Come to think of it, the last two planes he piloted ended up in pieces and he almost died twice (this plane doesn't even need a pilot, and that's a whole other thing he has to wrap his head around). Steve buckles the belt across his lap, looks across the table at Diana, and stops nodding. He trusts her (and he should– she's two for two on the saving-him-from-plane-wrecks front).

The plane begins to move and Steve can't help but tense in his seat. Diana raises a brow at him, but Alfred's voice projects through the cabin before Steve can explain that he is a pilot afraid of flying. Thank you, Alfred.

"Hello, Miss Prince, Mr. Trevor, today's flight analysis projects minimal turbulence and an arrival time in Alberta of 22:41 local time. If you look to the East after takeoff, you'll see a spectacular sunset over the bay."

Diana presses a button above her seat and says, "Thank you, Alfred."

"My pleasure, Miss Prince. Should you need further assistance, I'll be monitoring the communication lines. Have a nice flight."

Steve stifles a short laugh, even as he nervously taps his fingers against the table in front of him.

Diana, eyes bright with intrigue, asks, "What?"

"A hundred years and you're still Diana Prince," Steve explains, as the plane moves faster and his heart rate does the same. "How do you get away with that? No one says you look a little young for your age?"

"Forging official documents has become somewhat of a hobby for me. I've lived in many places over the years, all over the world. No one has ever known Diana Prince long enough to suspect anything out of the ordinary. The photograph taken of us in Veld..." Diana looks down at the table for a moment before she looks back at Steve and continues, "Until very recently, that was the last time I was photographed in my armor. After the war, I became something of a myth. It was better that way. The world wasn't ready to acknowledge that I or others like me existed."

They've been over this, sort of, in the dead of night, when it was just the two of them talking about all of the things that, to Steve, happened in the blink of an eye but to Diana? A century of horrors, she'd called it, and he can see the weight of living through it in her eyes (and not for the first time, he feels guilty; for crashing into her paradise, for bringing his world's problems to her, for leaving too soon). One day, he'll ask her what happened to make her turn away from the world for so long, but he's popped their bubble of happiness too many times this week with his constant, innocent questions taking far darker turns than he anticipates.

"Right... so, this has been on my mind," Steve begins, redirecting the conversation towards (hopefully) lighter topics, "Superman, Batman, Aquaman, Cyborg, The Flash; everybody's got a stage name. What do they call you?"

"Before I answer that," she starts, a present, wry smile replacing the far off look on her face, "what do you think they should call me?"

"Oh, I don't know," Steve says, placing a hand on his chin before he offers, "Godkiller?"

"Godkiller." Diana shakes her head, shortly laughing in disbelief. "Now that would be something."

"Alright, not Godkiller," Steve concedes. "The Amazon? Fits the theme of the rest of the team. Diana, Princess of Themyscira? That's a little wordy."

"Just a little."

"What do they call you then?" Steve asks again.

Diana purses her lips before she explains, "After the attack on Gotham and Metropolis, the press took to calling me Wonder Woman. It stuck– even within the League."

"Accurate, appropriate, alliterate," Steve acknowledges, nodding. "I like it."

"I do, too," Diana says, smiling.

She unlocks the belt across her lap and stands, and Steve is suddenly reminded that they are on a plane and in the air and not in an underground headquarters anymore. His smile slips. When had they gotten into the air?

"Where are you going?" Steve asks, undoing his own seatbelt with haste.

"To watch the sunset over the bay," Diana says plainly, holding her arm out for him. "Care to join me?"

Steve is out of his seat in an instant, and he feels more at home than he has in years when he takes Diana's arm and says,

"Lead the way, Wonder Woman."