In Which Steve Reflects
Most people didn't take into account of the fact that to Steve Rodgers, the second World War had only ended about a year ago for him. That he had lived through the Depression. They seemed to over look the fact that he had lost his best friend, a woman he had wanted to spend the rest of his life with, and the comfort of all he had ever known. Sure, they saw that he was hopelessly clueless when it came to technology and popular culture, but they didn't seem to register what that really entitled to the person they saw as unshakable and un-corruptible.
The sleepless nights.
The dreams of flash fire and blood and bits of bone.
Remembering the steady ache of being hungry while the rest of the world starved with you.
The faint feeling of sweating and being covered in mud and hearing the gun fire of the enemy.
Or the fact that he woke up in a world that was nearly the opposite of everything he had held to be true. He was a good man, he knew, perhaps not the strongest man or best man, but a good man nonetheless. He felt that he didn't deserve this. But it wasn't as if he could do much to change his situation. So he lived with it the best he could. The damn moment of seeing the symbol of everything he held dear being destroyed by someone he didn't even consider a close friend, and the young dame that was very symbol of this new, strange age of the twenty-first century seemed to be the last straw of his temper.
"You can't blame her for what happened."
Of course, considering how much Steve wanted to be alone, the second most effective person of this world who could get under his skin had to come in and lecture him. Steve did not turn to look at Tony Stark, instead he focused on the steady fall of his fists against the old leather punching bag. The billionaire, self named playboy and philanthropist sighed irately.
"Look, Dacry is a good kid. She was about to be hit by dangerous chemicals, and she had a reflex. Considering all the crap that happens, that should be a good thing."
Again, Steve didn't even answer, but his punches did increase.
"She's really torn up about it. She's crying and she doesn't really cry as a rule, Cap."
Steve tried to squash down the feeling of guilt at the thought, but knew for once, he had every damn right to be angry.
"Fine. Be a dick. But I'm telling you right now, you're going to regret not talking to her. I mean, the ragging crush you have on her is going to make you want to talk to her, and the whole silent treatment is going to suck on your part."
It took a second for what Stark said to register, and Steve stopped swinging, his punching bag hitting him a good wallop as he spun around, nearly sending him crashing to the floor.
"What?"
He half expected to see Stark smirking, but the technically younger man had one of the most serious faces he had seen on him since the Battle of New York.
"You heard me. You have a crush on Darcy Lewis."he said simply.
Steve gaped at him. Then he did smirk.
"You're so clueless that it's cute."
He then patted him softly on the cheek, and left the gym. But not of course, before he shouted over his shoulder:
"Get your head out of your ass!"
Steve could only really stare after him, jaw on the ground.