Steve/Hermione

Steve tries his hand at online meeting. It goes about as well as can be expected.

"This," Steve said, pointing accusingly as the screen of his phone displaying the Tinder app. "Is not for meeting dames."

"Course it is," Tony replied with a shrug. "Met plenty on there."

"I mean, it's not for meeting," Steve tried again, face growing hotter. "Going out for a drink, or a walk in the park. Getting to know them. It's just…"

"Sex. Yeah," Tony said as a matter of fact, then frowned at him. "Ah. I thought- Okay, my mistake. I'm sure there's a better app out there for… talking." Tony paused, looked back at him. "You mean talking, as in having a conversation, right? Not like dirty talk or-"

"Tony!"

"What? I don't know what kink you're into. It's all fine nowadays. Whatever floats your boat. Whatever tickles your pickle. Whatever rocks your socks. Whatever-"

"I'm leaving," Steve said with a tired sigh.

"No, wait! I'm sure there an app out there for the elderly! Slow and Steady, or Wrinklr, or-"

The elevator doors thankfully closed, shutting him out. Tony could be such a dick sometimes. But maybe Steve was just meant to be alone. Anyone he ever grew attached to always ended up torn away from him anyway.

"Captain, if I may?"

Steve looked up with some reluctance, but he couldn't bring himself to be rude to Tony's AI just because his creator was being an insensitive jerk.

"Yes, Jarvis?"

"I took the liberty of deleting the Tinder app from your phone, and replaced it with one that will be more to your taste."

"Did Tony put you up to this?"

"No, sir," Jarvis replied immediately, sounding mildly affronted.

Funny how human a machine could sound. Jarvis had never been malicious before however, so Steve thanked him and promised to give it a try. Just… not now. The last couple of "dates" he had gone on had simply been too atrocious to risk it again so soon.

It took him a few weeks of feeling like the loneliest sod in the world, sitting on the park bench alone, drinking a coffee alone, with no one to share it with. Even the sunset was beautiful, but the unearthly pinks and oranges did nothing to lighten his heart. It was beating healthily despite how hollow it felt, which only made him feel worse. Steve had always yearned for someone to love, but his wish died with Peggy all those years ago, and now that he had finally let go of her memory, he felt lonelier than ever. Everyone else seemed to manage this dating business just fine. Even Tony. Was he at fault? Was he being difficult? Maybe he just needed to try harder.

So, despite his misgivings and horrible past experiences, Steve turned his phone on and pressed the screen for the new app Jarvis had installed for him. The logo, a C and a 9 formed the shape of a white heart on a simple black background. Okay, he'd bite.

It was very much not like the other dating app. In fact, he wondered for a while if maybe Jarvis had gotten it wrong. No selfies or other pictures, no description of any sort in fact, nor any personal information, not even his gender. All he had to do was press on his hobbies in a list, then complete it by picking his favourites of each category he had picked. Books, movies, artists and sports in his case.

A little box popped up, informing him he was number 156782 and he would now have access to profiles of people matching his interests, for love or friendship. That surprised him at first, but it was a relief actually. No expectations, no pressure. It seemed to be a way to simply find people with similar interests.

Steve clicked on a random profile, number 664170, who had matched him almost perfectly in sports and movies. It could be a man for all he knew, and it would be nice to go watch a game with someone who was actually into it. He tried another whose only interest seemed to be art oriented and that would be really neat as well to just hang out at a museum or go sketching out in the city with another person. It was a gamble to be sure, but he would give it a try.

Steve was meeting up with number 390710 today and was optimist he would be having a nice day with whoever it turned out to be. The sport enthusiast turned out to be a lady called Joan, and they had become pretty good friends despite supporting different teams. The art lover was in fact an art student named Robbie, who knew a hell of a lot more than him in general on history of art, but who Steve had been able to coach to improve his technique and perspective on his pieces.

Today, like the last two times, Steve only knew the time and place of the meeting since that's all the app would allow its users to exchange. They would have to decide the rest on the spot, but since this profile was the book-lover, he had a pretty good idea of what they would be doing. The trick was finding a place where not too many people hung out, or it was difficult to find their match in the crowd. It was almost mission impossible in New York, and could lead to some awkward situations, but Steve had decided that if he wasn't ready to make a fool of himself in his quest for love, then he didn't deserve to find it.

So, when he approached the meeting point, he was kind of stunned to find a dame wearing a white shirt with the profile's number printed across her chest in black. He couldn't help his grin as he approached her.

"Hi. I'm 156782," he said, offering his hand.

She looked up at him, eyes wide.

"Steve," he added when she still hadn't taken his proffered hand.

"Oh, erm, hi. I'm Hermione. It's nice to meet you."

They shook hands a bit awkwardly.

"I like your shirt. It's very practical," Steve said, hoping to break the ice.

She looked down at her chest and blushed.

"Yes. I had a few problems finding my matches on my first tries. Going up to people to ask them if they're number so and so gave them the impression I was selling my wares."

"Selling your…" Steve repeated in confusion.

"A sex worker," she deadpanned. "I got arrested."

Talk about a misadventure. It wasn't funny. Steve shouldn't even think about laughing, but there he was, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Oh, go on, you can laugh," she said. "The first person I met on C9 was a cop, so he got me out of there before I could get processed."

"Are you telling me you're friends with a cop just in case I'm a creep?"

"Maybe," she said with a teasing smile. "But you're not, are you? You're Captain America," she finished, voice lowered as she glanced around for evesdroppers.

"That obvious?"

"Do people not recognized you?" she asked, disbelief evident in her voice.

"You'd be surprised. Take off the uniform and most New Yorkers don't look at you twice."

"They're not the most observant bunch," she agreed, watching people as they hurried passed them, eyes glued to their phone, earbuds shutting out the world, hailing cabs, catching buses… "Ha! I guess you're right, just-Steve. I was afraid we would have to avoid public places today, but it looks like that won't be a problem after all."

So they went to a few bookstores, both new and second-hand, then they stopped at a coffee shop and got to know each other. They talked a lot. Steve was surprised he even had that much to say, as he had always considered himself the quiet sort, but Hermione was a good listener and, aside from books, understood things he thought she should not. However, she didn't open up easily. Talking about books and her new life in New York, no problem, but asking about her past made her clam up, so he didn't insist. It was only their first outing after all, but he did hope to see her again very soon. They exchanged phone numbers, which was promising.

And then, they began texting. It was just a polite thank you for the day, had fun, goodnight and good morning kind of messages at first. Then they made plans to meet again for movie and dinner over the weekend, and their exchanges became more personal after that second meet up.

Later that week, he got into a scrape with some evil robots which Tony swore were not his, and Hermione asked if he was okay, if he needed anything. Having someone ask him instead of simply assuming he was fine because he was Captain America made his heart flutter the way, it used to when he was sick.

She was the only one to ask. She was the only one who seemed to care.

I could use a hug.

Steve held his breath after he pressed the send button, having no clue how she would react. They were just friends. Good friends despite having only met up twice, but it felt like he had known her for much longer. And friends hugged, right? An incoming text had his heart thumping like mad.

I've been told my hugs are breathtaking.

That was a good sign. A new text followed right after.

Meaning you can't breathe. Not that they're extraordinary. I wouldn't want you to get your hopes up for nothing.

Steve chuckled. She must have friends who looked like his old self, all skin and bone, if that was the case.

I doubt that applies to me. Super soldier, remember?

In that case, I'll pick up some dinner and drop it off at your place while I'm at it.

You're not going to let a poor, injured soldier eat alone, are you?

Fine, dinner for two it is. It will cost you exactly one hug.

Does that mean I get two?

Greedy.

Steve sent her his address, then caught himself making himself presentable and stopped. He didn't want to be too obvious. They were just friends. What did it matter if his hair wasn't combed neatly, or if he was wearing an old shirt. Just because he had suddenly realized he wanted to court Hermione didn't mean she would welcome the attention.

An eternity later, his doorbell rang.

"Hey," he said trying to sound casual, but not having a damn clue how to do that now that he was so aware of her.

"Hey yourself," she returned, handing him the paper bags. "I hope you like Italian."

Then, before he could turn around or put the bags down, she hugged his middle with fierce determination.

"I'm glad you're okay," she said against his chest. "Watching the news footage was… painful."

"It was, but I'm feeling much better now that you're here."

Hermione let go of him and he could have sworn she was blushing, but his entrance was dimly lit and she scurried past him, making herself at home as if she was used to dropping by. Steve suddenly wished he had put more thought into making his small apartement more inviting, but in his defense, he never imagined he would be entertaining a dame at home anytime soon.

"Sorry. I'm not very good at…" he waved his hand around the blank walls and spaces. "Decorating."

"Thought an artist would be good at that sort of thing," she said, back turned as she watched through his window. "The view is nice though. Good for people watching too."

Steve could only agree as he stared at her reflection in the window. She seemed sad, so he wondered if she was thinking of the people from her home country, those she never talked about. Suddenly, she looked up, and their eyes met briefly in the reflection. He turned away, flustered, as if he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, so he was startled when he felt her arms close around his middle once more

"What-" he began

"You owe me a hug, remember?"

"Anytime," he said.

She needed time to settle into her new life, to make new friends, to forget or mourn those she had left behind. He hugged her closer. He knew exactly what she was going through and would give her all the time, and hugs, in the world.