Chapter 4:

LUNA'S POV:

I'm sitting on Steve's couch, back stiffer than wood, and my eyes as wide as Steve's when he comes running up out to investigate my scream. I'm shaking violently, and I've never been so scared and sad in my life.

"Hey, Luna, are you alright?" Steve asks, placing his hand on my arm.

My speechlessness continued, and my body only got stiffer with his touch. He looks me straight in the face and talks to me like I'm dead or something.

"Luna, I need you to talk. You need to loosen up, just go back to sleep. It's alright, its okay, go to sleep." He coos.

He swings my legs up and over the end of the couch, so he can sit beside me. His hand is on my shoulder, and his eyes burn into me, full of concern. For lack of words, he looks worried. I'm still frigid, but now I'm trying to loosen up and shake it off. His touch seems to melt my nerves, and I can move again.

"I'm good. Sorry I woke you up." I explain.

"I wasn't sleeping. I usually don't." he replies.

"Oh. Care to watch some late night infomercials?" I giggle.

"Why of course, ma'am." He teases back.

Steve doesn't strike me as the joking type, so the response shocked me in a good way. He fishes through the couch cushions for the remote. When he finds it, he switches on the TV, and finds something at least slightly entertaining to watch. He settles on some TV show rerun, and I assume the show is off the air now. The main character cracks a joke, and I laugh. Steve isn't watching the show, he's watching me. Not that I hope he's watching me, but it was nice.

Now, I may seem weird about the whole guy thing, but in my defense, I've never had a guy like me, and the only guys I know are Fury and Clint. So, it's absolutely marvelous to have a guy be attractive, and look at me like I am too.

A song that Clint had played me once ran through my head. It was about a boy who saw this girl and then fell in love instantly. I wonder if that actually happens in real life, or if people just sing about things they wish would happen. Maybe Steve could tell me things about the current world.

"Hey, are you up to date on the current fashions, music, tech, etc.?" I ask.

"I'm from the 1930s Luna. Do you think I know?" he says sarcastically.

I blush and shake my head. I don't know how to approach him. He's fun, yet serious; he's cool, yet fierce. HELP!?

STEVE'S POV:

I think we're both stuck in the same situation. I'm a man out of my own time, and she's a girl who's never been part of hers. We're both clueless, we're both lost, and we're both lonely, I can tell.

"What are you going to do?" I wonder aloud.

"I have no clue. Hopefully, I'll get a job, and maybe an apartment, I don't really know though, because SHIELD is probably looking for me. I'm not even sure how I'm going to get clothes without being recaptured." She says, looking hopeless.

"I can help you. Don't feel like you need to leave right away. I get lonely here all alone."

She smiles. For a prisoner of sorts, she has straight teeth that sparkle in a whole other shade of white. Her lips are delicately pink, like she's never worn lipstick. They look so soft, and I'm tempted to run my thumb across them, but think better of it. We just met after all, and I barely even know her name.

"How old are you?" I pester.

"I'm seventeen." She answers. "Eighteen in January. What about you?"

"Well, if you don't count my years in the ice, I'm 27." I reply.

Her eyes dance around the room, exploring every inch of me and my home without even turning her head. The smoky blue orbs tease me with fluttering eyelashes and glances at my lips. She wants me to kiss her, she does I just know it. It drives me crazy. I'm 10 years older than her. But does it really matter? Age is only a number after all. As long as she's not three and I'm not fifty, it doesn't seem like a crime. It sure doesn't feel like a crime. My heart hasn't beat like this since Peggy. The thought of her draws a close to my "feelings" for Luna.

"So, you live alone?"

I nod. I don't really know who I might live with, I don't have many friends that are, well, alive. I explain the concept to her, and she apologizes as if it was her fault, and I say it's fine as if I agree. The whole process of 'I'm sorry' and 'it's okay' is quite the cliché. Like, 'Oh I'm sorry your dog died' as if there was something you did to cause the animal to, you know, die.

LUNA'S POV:

While I'm investigating the house from my cozy warm spot on the couch, I catch sight of a clock. It shows the time. 2:00 AM. We must be nuts. As tired as I am, I hope we don't fall asleep.