Author: Black Dragon on the Rocks/animealam
Rating: T
Pairing: None so far, mentions of one sided Steve/Peggy
Summary: The Universe stared at the boy for what seemed an eternity to him, only to change into a decrepit, dirty alley, and that was the last thing Steve saw before loosing consciousness. The small frail boy banished in a flash of blue flames. Be warned VERY AU Young Time Travelling genius tech savvy Steve.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers, I'm just borrowing them. I'm using a good number of the movie dialogs, even if I added bits and pieces to some of them. So if something looks familiar they are obviously not mine, and belong to their respective owners.
Warnings: NOT SLASH, AU, Completely totally AU, Time Travel, Younger Steve, Violence, Adoption, Smart Steve, Technopaths, Technopath Tony, Technopath Steve, Canon Character Deaths, Minor Character Deaths, OOC-ness, there are quite a lot of movie dialogs which I decided not to change but I did add my own twists and turns to make them a bit more interesting.
Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Thor, Nick Fury, Phil Coulson, Maria Hill, Sarah Rogers, mentions of Bucky, mentions of Peggy Carter, mentions of howard Stark, mentions of Colonel Phillips, mentions of the Howling Commandos, Jarvis, Pepper, Happy, Rhodey
Timeline: Pre Avengers, Captain America: The First Avenger, Avengers, Post Avengers. I use the Marvel Cinematic Universe Timeline in Wikia for all date purposes.
Author's Note: This is quite a long chapter, but I saw no way to break it properly. I also did some basic corrections to the previous two chapters, maily removing a few keys and correcting spelling and/or grammar.
Kawerp: Thanks for the comments and suggestions. I did remove most of the keys, and added the disclaimer, which I tend to forget to add. I've been following both your stories since the beginning, and love them to bits, so I was happy to see you read one of mine.
So if you guys have not read her stories, go read them, they have wonderful character development.
starryeclipse: Wow! Longest review I've ever gotten, and I'm glad you like what I've written so far. Thanks for the review and you comments. You have some very interesting ideas. As to Tony's presence, he won't feature for a couple of chapters, so you'll have to wait and see where I'm going with him... And Bruce too.
Total size without notes: 6,175
Keys:
"Speaking aloud."
'Thoughts'
'Name: /Mental interfacing between technopaths and/or tech\'
Aftermath
When he regained consciousness Steve found himself in a simple hotel like bedroom, feeling sore, bruised, and as hungover as the day he decided to drink one of Bucky's whiskey bottles to see what the buzz about getting drunk was all about.
It was the first and only time Steve ever got drunk. This was before he participated in Project Rebirth, so alcohol did affect him. He had been so drunk he had giggled at everything, cried, and had actually revealed he was a time traveller who was born in the year 1999. Thankfully no one believed it.
Steve had also been so drunk he could not stand, saw double, and he had been so very ill the next day. To make things worse, Bucky had no pity of him. The jerk scolded him for what felt like an eternity, then spent the whole day making as much noise as he could. Steve swore never to drink again.
He did not follow through with that promise, but with the Super Soldier Serum in his body, alcohol did not affect him anymore. Steve learned instead to appreciate the taste of quality drinks when they were available, and... He did win a few bets for the Commandos by drinking a few unsuspecting victims under the table.
According to the electronic clock on the night table by the bed, it was around noon the day after he 'awoke' in the future. The moment he remembered what happened, Steve had curled up on the bed miserably and stared at nothing. He was not giving Kraft the satisfaction of crying again, specially because the bastard had actually been happy to collect his tears.
Steve stayed practically unmoving on the bed two whole days. He did not drink, or eat anything, not that he felt hungry. Quite the contrary, he had actually spent a good amount of time dry heaving whenever he thought about what was done to him. Steve was terrified Kraft and those two agents would return, and render him completely helpless again. He feared they would do... THAT to him again.
His mind was refusing to put a name to what was done to him, and thinking about IT was out of the question. Unfortunately, Steve could not forget. What he could do instead was lock those memories at the back of his mind, and pretend for all he was worth IT did not happen. Because that was the only way Steve was going to be able to function.
It was evening of the second day when Fury himself came, there had been other agents before, but Steve had ignored them all. The Director had practically bullied him out of the bed, and into the shower (where Steve had nearly scrubbed himself raw, not that the Super Soldier Serum let it show), then led him to the cafeteria so he could eat something.
Steve had only eaten since it was expected of him, and the Super Soldier Serum needed fuel, or he would start losing muscles as he had practically no body fat to lose. He could not afford to be weak while in SHIELD's hands. But eating even a fraction of what he needed was hard because he was not hungry at all.
To make matters worse, Steve almost upchucked the meal right there and then, as well as nearly had a panic attack (which he stopped only by sheer bull headedness) when he saw Wilkins walk by. The bastard had the gall to leer at him, and make some rather suggestive gestures to remind him of... THAT.
Fury's back had been to the agent, so he did not notice more than the fact Steve 'suddenly' lost what little color he had. He had to pull on all his acting experience to appear somewhat normal as well as unaffected, and Steve knew he had not quite pulled it off. Thankfully it seemed the Director blamed his condition on grief, shock at finding himself nearly seventy years in the future, as well as his still very clear distrust of SHIELD and its agents.
While Steve forced himself to eat, Fury informed him they had found him a quiet, and out of the way place where he could have some time to assimilate what happened to him. They called it The Cabin. He would be alone there, as well as away from any modern city. Steve nearly had a panic attack for the second time in less than an hour. A place like The Cabin would leave him vulnerable and at Kraft's mercy.
He adamantly refused to go to The Cabin. Steve insisted a place in New York City, any place, was fine with him. He told Fury he rather have the opportunity to observe how things were in the future, and try them himself. Steve could see his refusal surprised the Director, but the man did locate him an apartment in Brooklyn.
The apartment Fury found for him was one of their many safe houses. If Steve was staying in New York City, then he would need to be at SHIELD's New York offices every morning to receive a few 'Living in the 21st century' lessons. He could agree to that, even though he did not need them.
If Fury had noticed how Steve kept his distance from him, and any other male member of SHIELD coming within his personal space, the man did not mention it. The Director himself drove him to his new home, and showed him the very basics of the microwave, the phone, and the TV. In the morning at eight agents Lozano and Johnson would pick him up. They would show him how to use the subway to get to SHIELD in Manhattan.
Life outside
After what Kraft did to him, Steve found SHIELD was surprisingly accommodating. This led him to believe the mad doctor had indeed gone against the Directors' orders, as well as the fact Fury wanted to recruit him. It would not have been a bad option now that he was an unemployed super soldier instead of an unemployed child prodigy.
Unfortunately Kraft was still there, and Steve could not trust he would be safe. The mad scientist had already gotten to him behind Fury's back, less than an couple of hours after he had been denied permission to conduct experiments on him. For this reason Steve could not trust SHIELD. It also let him know the Director was not as aware of the goings on in his agency as he believed.
Fury wanted his skills as a soldier, and perhaps his leadership ones, but there was more to him than that. Steve had two Masters under his belt, and frankly he wanted to add a Biochemistry degree, perhaps one in medicine as well.
After his experience in the 1940s he realized those were important areas of study as well. They would have certainly made his life easier if he had known enough about them to make himself something for his illnesses. Then there were still the PhD's to obtain in his chosen fields.
The Super Soldier Serum intrigued him as well, specially because he needed an explanation as to how he managed to be in suspended animation for sixty-six years and not age. He now needed to know what exactly the Super Soldier Serum did to his body, and how it remained working.
Steve started his visits to SHIELD's New York offices for a very rudimentary acclimatization the next morning. Those visits suited Steve's plans so he did not initially protest much. The agents though, grated on his nerves. They had been so condescending, treating him like he lacked any intelligence simply because he 'supposedly' was from the past. Frankly it took all he had not to start bashing heads.
It was the third of his 'supposed' acclimatization lessons, and Steve's patience had finally reached its limit; not that he had ever been a very patient guy. Lozano was about to explain the telephone, appliances, and gadgets when she stopped and simply told him very slowly, in a tone one would use to speak to someone with a severe mental handicap.
"I guess we will have to start at the very beginning Captain, you see, almost everything in this modern times uses electricity. But of course, being from the forties I don't believe you have heard of it." She did not even try to hide her condescending tone, while her partner snickered.
"Is this a joke to you agent Lozano? Or to you agent Johnson?" Steve glared at them, and the anger in his voice was evident. What did they think he was? A cave man from the last ice age?
"No, of course not Captain Rogers, we're just doing our job in acclimating you to our modern world," Johnson said placatingly as he realized they might have gone a bit overboard, although he was not sure what had set the soldier off.
"We are only trying to help you by showing you what is now available..." Lozano began but Steve interrupted.
"I don't believe you are the adequate persons for the job then," he sneered at them, "because clearly you have no clue what you're talking about. I come from the forties, NOT the middle ages, or worse the Cretaceous period, and if you don't know what that is, look it up on the Internet."
"How dare..." Lozano bristled insulted, although she could not help looking a bit confused, as did Johnson. She did not want to admit having no clue as to what the Cretaceous period was. Lozano did not get to say more because Steve interrupted her again.
"I dare. How can you attempt to teach me history, as well as how this world operates when you don't even know the subject? Did you even bother to do research on what you're supposed to teach, or me for that matter? Or did you just arrogantly come here believing me an uneducated idiot?
"For your information, electricity has been in use in New York City since the beginning of the twentieth century, and by the 1930s there was electricity in most houses. Telephones were not far behind.
"As to appliances, I repaired them for a living before enlisting. I invented and patented a few which are still in use now." He upped the glare when both agents gaped. "Your computers are nothing I did not expect.
"I met Alan Turing during the war." Back then it had really taken a lot not to start fanboying or geeking out, but he did manage... Barely. "We would meet whenever our schedules allowed to discuss the future and possible uses of his A-Machines." At their confused looks he could not keep the disgusted expression on his face. "He's considered one of the fathers of modern computing.
"Alan was one of the persons I researched on the Internet with a bit of help from a civilian." This was a lie, as he had not needed to do the research since he already knew Alan's fate. He also did not need anyone to 'teach' him how to use the gadgets. "This person taught me to use the cel phone, the tablet, and the laptop SHIELD provided for me, and which you did not even bother to explain.
"I've had enough, these... 'lessons'," and he made air quotes for emphasis, "are over. I'll acclimate on my own." He stood up and made his way to the door.
"You can't leave, Director Fury's instructions are for you to take these lessons!" Johnson told him.
"And who's going to stop me?" Steve snapped. "You?"
"You need the security code to leave the room," Lozano said smugly.
"Do I really?" Steve asked raising an eyebrow, she nodded. "Then watch me."
Steve assessed the door for a moment, it was more for privacy than security, so it was not reinforced. Then he connected with the access panel, which was more than willing to provide him with the code to open the door, as he was the first human to ever talk to it. He thanked it, and appologized because he was going to break the door it was guarding.
Two powerful kicks had removed the door from its hinges. The first dented it, and the second did the job, leaving it only connected to the wall where the lock was. Steve did not even have to use his full strenght to do that. He stepped out of the room while Lozano and Johnson gaped.
"By the way, the security code is 748675. I happen to have very good hearing agents."
For a spying agency they made the mistake of letting their access panels keyboards beep. Each key had a different tone, anyone with a decent ear for music and a good memory would have no trouble learning their access codes. He had not been paying attention, otherwise he would have learned the password earlier, instead of having to ask the panel.
"Good afternood, it has definitely NOT been a pleasure meeting you, and I hope we don't cross paths again."
He left the room, but connected with the security cameras and located the videos of his 'lessons'. He copied and uploaded them to his new cloud storage account. They might come in handy later on, specially if Fury tried to get him back into the lessons. Steve then erased all evidence of his presence in the system. No need for SHIELD to know what he was capable of.
Stopping the lessons left him with quite a lot of free time, which Steve decided to do something about. Too much time to himself, and his traitorous mind attempted to revisit some of the worst moments of the past two years. Specially Bucky's death, the crash, and... IT.
The agents had been the ones to provide him with clothes, a crappy bug infested laptop, tablet, and a cell phone, equally bugged. They were also the ones who took care of equipping the apartment SHIELD provided for him, as well as the necessary IDs, credit, and debit cards so he could live on his own. Those two had 'conveniently forgotten' to teach him how to use them, not that it was a problem for him.
The apartment SHIELD got him was surprisingly two blocks from his home in Brooklyn. Steve could at least try to see his mother when she went about her day, and let her see him so she would not worry about him; even if he could not risk speaking with her. He also took advantage of the many cel phones in New York City to send her at least a message daily, so his Ma would know he was doing fine, but was still unable to approach her.
Steve was no longer the little frail boy he had been, but he knew she would recognize him when she saw him. He realized he actually looked a lot like his mother, and had inherited his father's height and build. The Super Soldier Serum had clearly healed him, made good use of his genetics, and improved them. The blue eyes were his mother's as well, as were his determination and stubborness.
Unfortunately the apartment he had to live at was bugged, as were the gadgets SHIELD provided for him, and even the damn clothes. So could not even try to call his mother from there. Steve had practically no privacy at all. They had placed both cameras and mics nearly everywhere in the apartment. At least the bathroom was free of cameras, but still, who needed to hear what happened in the privacy of a bathroom?
His bedroom only had mics as well, thank heaven. It would be even more creepy to know they were watching him sleep, or if he had been so inclined and feeling up to it, when he brought company for the night. Not that he would, specially not after... Kraft.
Steve was annoyed, and not just a little angry. What did they take him for, a terrorist? So he decided he was going to mess with SHIELD's collective minds. Bucky used to say he could be a vindictive little shit if he was riled enough, and SHIELD had crossed the line.
He had originally planned on doing just a few out of character things, but nothing too big. Perhaps just pass as more adept at adapting than was reported, or being better at using technology than expected. Although, was it really out of character if what was reported about him was idealized?
Steve had accessed his file, and had been surprised by the amount of information it was lacking. There was nothing about his work before enlisting, except for what he did for those advertising agencies. Nothing about working as assistant on several important labs, or being an invertor with several patents. His work with Howard on the HYDRA weapons, or designing the Howling Commandos' gear was not mentioned either.
The file he read was actually the sanitized one the USO, and later the SSR used for their war propaganda. The one used for the documentaries, and those awful movies he made. The only insubordination mentioned was his rescue of Bucky and the 107th. It had not been the only one.
Phillips used to say he was a six feet two, 240 pounds pain in his ass, because he would not follow orders if the collateral damage implied many civilian lives. He would change the plan to minimize casualties as much as possible. There was really nothing about who he was as a person, or even what he was capable of doing in that file.
He was human after all, and he liked to have fun with his people. Steve got hurt like them as well, he had had his bad days like any other soldier, and since he was thirteen, Steve could not have a 'normal' conversation with young women (unless it was Peggy) to save his life. He stuttered, blushed, stammered, and overall made a fool of himself.
Steve had been known to prank people, along with Bucky and Jim. They knew he could snark with the best of them, and he was banned from playing poker by Colonel Phillips himself. He always won, and ended with practically half the company's allotted chocolate bars. Who could blame him? Really, his metabolism demanded lots and lots of calories.
He had strong morals and beliefs thanks to his mother; but he was no saint. Steve drank during the war even if alcohol did not affect him. It was not forbidden back then. He could appreciate good scotch or brandy, and actually enjoyed the taste of a good beer. Steve had smoked as well. Whatever he looked outside, he was still a teenager, and peer pressure did get to him at one point, but he did not like smoking so he never took to the vice.
After one particularly bad mission in Italy, the Commandos cooperated and paid a woman to make a man out of him. They knew he could not get drunk, and frankly he had been rather messed up. Steve had protested and argued, but it... had helped take his mind of things. Still, it was not something he had indulged in often despite his age. He was, perhaps, a bit of a sap; but he wanted to find the right woman.
He had also had his share of brawls (before and after he enlisted, and even before he went back in time). He hated bullies plain and simple. The brawls he got involved in during the war were usually to support his team. He had come across quite a few people who had objected about Gabe's, Jacques', and Jim's presence, or to protect a woman's honor. So he really had not been the saint they had painted him to be. He had simply been a regular guy.
But SHIELD had managed to annoy the heck out of him with their surveillance. The three neighbors on his floor were SHIELD agents (there were four apartments per floor), and there were a couple of them living in the building across the street with direct view to his apartment. All that besides the electronic bug infestation in the apartment, clothes, and gadgets as well as the fact he was being followed whenever he went out.
Steve 'fried' the mics in his bathroom and bedroom. SHIELD did not need to know what he did in there, whether he farted, slept, snored, cried for his lost friends, or even chose to bring someone home. Which he would not do, but that was besides the point. The fact remained they were invading his privacy.
He also had all the neighbors gadgets and appliances acting up randomly making sure it could not be connected to him. Steve selected a pop/rock radio station, as well as the latin one Mrs Guzman from across the hall at home liked to listen to, and had either one or the other on practically 24/7 at a rather loud volume. Not enough to call the manager, or the cops, but enough the others heard it.
Then Steve 'accidentally' hard formatted both his laptop and cell phone, as well as reset the tablet to factory settings. Meanwhile the washer from the neighbor across the hall flooded the apartment, the TV of another was stuck in the cartoon network (it would not turn off, and the volume was deafening), and the iron of the other shortcircuited the whole apartment.
With the laptop out of commission, Steve went to Pete's Electronics Repair Shop. It was only a block away, and a place he had liked to spend time at on his good days before he was sent to the past. Pete could always use some free help, and he was a very nice guy.
Steve upgraded his laptop himself with Pete's 'assistance', and on SHIELD's budget. Then he installed the latest Linux stable release, and the apps Pete suggested (not that Steve needed it, but it was in case the agents asked), plus a few others more adequate for experienced programmers. Steve also got his phone configured again, and the tracker on it removed. To end he began taking 'lessons'.
The next morning the first thing he did was buy art supplies, Steve really had missed properly sketching and drawing. It was something that relaxed him, let him express himself, and forget about his problems, if only for a little while. He also managed to visit three art galleries.
In the afternoon, after he indulged at a Japanese food buffet, Steve then went to the park near his apartment where he knew the Parkour, as well as the skateboarder crowd gathered. He had been interested in both activities, but due to his ill health he had had no hope of ever practicing them.
With the Super Soldier Serum he would be able to, and Steve planned on learning. It was also enough out of character to mess a bit with his minders. Steve spent the rest of the afternoon observing, and studying the movements, surprised he had actually been using some of them during his fights.
Back in the forties he had learnt some fighting techniques, and something that was similar to Parkour. Probably a precursor. He also got to speak with some of the Traceurs (what the Parkour practitioners were called) who had approached to see his work and were impressed with his sketches. They suggested adequate clothing and the same happened with some skateboarders. He was invited to join them the next afternoon.
Steve decided to go shopping in the morning for the suggested clothing, and since he was at it, he would buy a more modern wardrobe. Frankly what Johnson and Lozano chose for him was atrocious. Yes he got used to the forties fashion, and there were some very nice things to wear. But really, those two had either terrible taste in clothes, or did it just to annoy him.
The next day after a restless night due to nightmares about the ice and the war, Steve decided to postpone shopping for a bit, and chose to work instead on the laptop coding. He wanted something he could run to hide his real internet use. Something just in case someone, namely SHIELD, was messing with his WIFI and trying to see what he was doing.
The end program ran in the background, and surfed the net, in particular the Wikipedia for info about WWII, and world history afterward. He also left a few Trojans and worms floating around that would only attack known SHIELD IPs, and those of his neighbors and the spies in the building across from him. They were just to annoy the heck out of them, but nothing that would cause real damage.
Once the program was running, and Steve was sure it was secure, he was able to reacquaint himself with the projects he had been working on before he was sent to the past. He checked his clogged inbox, and visited several of his preferred forums to catch up.
Steve did abstain from participating in any discussions as there was no way yet to explain why a twelve year old had the mind of a fifteen year old and the body of someone at least twenty. That was a mess he was not looking forward to sorting.
The second day in his apartment was productive, and it kept his mind off Kraft. He ended it with a marathon of Doctor House' first season, and fell asleep on the couch. Nightmares awoke him in the early morning, around seven, so he at least got around four hours of sleep.
He changed into some excercise clothing and went for a 'light' morning run. He only ran fifteen miles. His tale actually stole a bicycle to keep up with him. After a shower, Steve went out in search of breakfast.
Then he went shopping for clothes, some groceries, and cleaning supplies for the apartment. He probably bored the heck out of his tail. Since he was already out Steve also bought himself a skateboard, and the necessary gear.
In the afternoon Steve went back to the park and joined the Parkour crowd. He allowed himself the chance to simply forget about his immediate problems, and had a lot of fun. Back during the war he had discovered his body learned easily, and took advantage of it. Soon he was matching a few of the Traceurs with more time practicing. His afternoon tail was not too happy to have to follow him through rather difficult routes.
Steve also got the chance to start learning how to skateboard. It was not as easy as he initially thought, but truth be told, he took to it like a duck to water after a few tries. Steve felt confident enough to skateboard his way back to the apartment, although he was not yet ready for the many tricks he had seen. His tail cursed him practically with each step the man took.
Rolling from one place to the other, avoiding people and obstacles was an enjoyable challenge, so Steve decided it would be his main mode of transportation. His tail was probably going to quit after a couple of days, or buy himself a skateboard as well to keep up. He counted that as a well done job.
The following days Steve balanced his activities. He went sightseeing, to the library, and to as many museums and art galleries as he could get to. For most of this he used either the subway, his skateboard, or a combination of both. Until one of the many agents brought him a vintage Harley Davidson bike, on which he spent a whole morning doing maintenance, and cleaning it of bugs. He used the bike when he wanted to go beyond Brooklyn's boundaries.
He always made time for some Parkour though, so if he could not join the afternoon crowd, he would go for a run in the mornings. In a week Steve had already had three different tails for each shift, and his neighbors looked rather rumpled and haggard. He was alternating the torture from the appliances from hell.
Despite his many activities during the day, the nights were difficult to say the least. Nightmares of Kraft were even worse than those of the ice. He was really glad the serum allowed him to go on with little sleep, but remaining at that sterile apartment after waking up from a nightmare was terrible in its own way.
Steve ended joining the boxing gym located a block away from his real home. He had to pay extra for the chance to use the installation after hours, but to him it was a matter of his mental sanity. Because at least there Steve had things to punch and kick when things got to be too much. He was also going through punching bags like one does socks, but since he was paying for them the manager had no complaints.
As much as he wanted to deny it, Steve knew Post Traumatic Stress Disorder was part of his life now, and for the forseeable future. Also, while he had finally gotten back the most important person in his life, he had lost so many good friends, and a brother in all but blood.
He needed help, there was no denying it, but Steve did not trust SHIELD's therapists. Perhaps later, once he did not feel like a criminal who needed to be watched over, he might accept the help, or find someone else. His Ma knew several because of her line of work, so she might know who he could trust to help him.
At night he wanted to go home so badly, to set aside his teenage male pride for a moment, and simply let his Ma hug the daylights out of him. Then they would go through their bad day routine, with her sitting on the couch, and him with his head on her lap while she carded her fingers through his hair. They would watch a movie, or some cartoons, and simply be together comforted in the knowledge both were still there.
Steve could not go back home, as he had yet to completely shake his tail. Whoever was following him always found him despite having checked all his new clothes for trackers and removed them. Steve was not willing to expose his mother to SHIELD. He feared they might try to use her to get him to do whatever it was they wanted from him.
Since he was no longer attending the lessons, he had to report at SHIELD every other day, which he did to avoid being confined to the Cabin. While there, Steve had already had several arguments with some of the other scientists who wanted to run tests on him.
A good number of those test went past intrusive, and into outright cruelty and torture; Steve was sure Kraft was behind them. He had refused, and broke the arm of one of them when the man got too handsy, and tried to pull him towards one of their labs. Thankfully Fury was backing him up, but Steve was not sure for how long.
By the two week anniversary of being out of the ice, Steve had all of his minders, plus a few at SHIELD in for a loop. His visits to report to the New York City office's served as his way to mess up with them. He was acting so unlike what they expected that most people were utterly confused and could only stare.
Of course Steve was bound to get stared at if he skateboarded his way to Director Fury's office. Then went back out at top speed down the stairs of three floors, while the man demanded loud enough to be heard on the first floor Who was the motherfucker who introduced Rogers to skateboarding?
It had been fun though, and a way to let out the teenager he truly was. Because he had had to grow up fast, and become a responsible 'man', from the moment he found himself alone back in 1941. Bucky had done his best to allow him a semblance of a childhood, but his salary was not enough to support the both of them. Besides, Steve had needed for people to believe him an adult in order to participate in Project Rebirth, so he could not act like the kid he truly was.
His wardrobe was by then completely adapted to the 21st century, and Steve was often wearing jeans, or cargo pants, when not wearing sweats. Which he could see the agents at SHIELD who knew about him thought completely unexpected, and way too out of character. Although, if they had truly done their homework, they should have known he was extremely adaptable. It was in the SSR's evaluations after all.
Back then, despite his size, Steve had always managed to blend in when not in either his Captain America suit, or his dress uniform. It should be expected for him to quickly adopt the dress code he felt most comfortable wearing to adapt to his new environment.
Another thing he was doing, and which he knew was puzzling his minders was his interest in biochemistry. He had taken some books on loan from the library, and gone through them at his usual pace, which was much faster than average people were used to. Then came his penchant for dismantling things and put them back together again, and making them work better.
He had gone through all the appliances in his apartment, and the buildings' central heating during his sleepless nights. Then he had also fixed three cars, and two motorcycles belonging to a few neighbors (not the SHIELD guys though). He had bought himself one of the best tool kits he could get his hands on, plus everything he needed to repair electronics.
Steve had also nearly given his tail a heart attack the first time he went clubbing. He had done it only three times actually. He had been curious about modern clubs, as Steve had been to a few with either Bucky or the Commandos back then, but he never learned to dance the 1940s styles.
He liked modern dancing, and knew how, although he did not think he was any good at it even if it was less complicated. So Steve took advantage of having an ID saying he was twenty-six to see what it was like.
The music and the dancing were OK, but 21st Century women were a bit more than he could deal with. The first time he actually returned to his apartment with a rather bruised ass having lost count of how many took advantage of being in a crowd to pinch it. The other two times went a bit better though.
Teenage pride aside, his self-esteem was not ready for that kind of heavy flirting, but he did not think it would ever be after Kraft. To add, Steve was never that adventurous when it came to regular women, he had very little experience with that side of life. He was too awkward, too shy, too used to being the sickly kid, too much of a wallflower, and being in a war had not helped his social graces any.
The last clubbing experiment, and the nightmares, were what had him in the gym past midnight, and beating up punching bags like there was no tomorrow. He felt lonely and isolated. He missed his 1940s friends, his home, and his mother a lot. Normally no self respecting sixteen year old would admit to missing their mothers, but frankly he had been through hell and was not normal. Never had been actually.
He saw her earlier in the day, and she had seen him. For a moment Steve almost approached her when he saw the look of immense love and pride in her eyes. His tail became rather obvious then, and Steve had walked away at a fast pace to keep the man from noticing how much they looked alike.
Steve was punching the bag for all he was worth while having some flashbacks to missions during the war. The explosions in particular were bothering him that night. Who knew? Perhaps the loud bass, or the strobe lights at the club had triggered them.
Then of course there was the crash, Steve was not sure if he could manage getting on board a plane after that experience. Because, while it was sixty-six years for the rest of the world, for him it happened only a couple of weeks ago; and to make things worse, there were the memories of his time under Kraft's control.
Steve could not help it, he kept punching the bag over and over until he finally sent it flying across the room, broken and spilling its contents. He panted trying to calm himself and got another punching bag to start all over again.
