There's a little more AU concerning characters in this; mention of character death, but only briefly. I'm also acknowledging the differences between the comics and the films in terms of Steve's birthdate. The comics say 1920 but I'm using the films 1918 date in this fic. Some of the maths might not be accurate, but I'm not too concerned with it.
Chapter 3- What It Means
As soon as Steve entered Kurt's apartment, he immediately saw that his interior designs skills were impeccable and assumed that his fashion design skills were similar. He couldn't wait until the day he saw Kurt's clothes in personal, for Steve thought that it would show him Kurt's personality in the most detailed way. Things that people created showed more about how they were than how they presented themselves. Steve himself sketched portions of his life in still-image form, partially to remember them more vividly as time progressed, but occasionally he just wanted to express how he felt about them. Emotion was portrayed in everything artistic no matter if you intended it to be or not. Steve saw the posters around Kurt's room and frowned, confused as what must be modern culture adorned almost every usable space.
"Nice place," Steve commented.
Kurt smiled. "Thanks. It was pretty cheap compared to what else we were looking at. Would you like something to drink? I imagine life-saving leaves you pretty parched."
Steve nodded gratefully. "Some water would be lovely, please." Kurt was always charmed when Steve showed his politeness.
After Kurt poured Steve his water from the refrigerated jug and grabbed himself a Diet Coke, they sat on the couch with each other. Steve sat awkwardly and Kurt crossed his left leg over his right, a tell that signalled that he was comfortable. Steve began unconsciously analysing Kurt's body language as he had started to do recently. Times had changed a lot and the more comfortable he could, the better his life would be.
"So," Steve began, sipping his water, "where did you grow up?"
"Lima, Ohio," Kurt answered promptly. He was glad to get all of the Lima talk out of the way. It was relatively sombre and explained a lot about Kurt's current attitudes towards life. "It was a pretty small town, narrow-minded people and all that. Being different meant that you couldn't sneeze without it being flagged up as a life decision."
Steve nodded. "I know what you mean. I grew up here, in New York, and—."
"You mean one of the most progressive cities in America," Kurt interrupted coldly. He hadn't meant to be, but still, it had slipped out. He would apologise later.
Steve sighed. He understood Kurt's hostility as he thought Steve had been raised in progressive New York rather than more than seventy years prior to their current discussion. "Now, yes." It was now or never. Steve made the decision to reveal everything. He could trust Kurt, he knew that already. He hadn't revealed 'Captain America's real name, something that many people craved. "What I'm about to say, you might not be ready to hear. But I think you deserve these answers. It explains a lot about my behaviour."
Kurt frowned, suddenly curious and more bemused than ever before.
"I am ninety-seven years old, Kurt."
Kurt simply snorted. "No you're not, don't be stupid."
Steve laughed. "Biologically, I'm thirty-one years old, but technically, I'm ninety-seven. I was born Steven Rogers in July nineteen-eighteen."
"You're serious?"
"Completely. I know this is a lot to digest, but if you could just hear me out, please."
Kurt put a hand on his knee. "Steve, I'm not freaked out by this or anything. I was just amazed that you're ninety-seven yet you look…like that."
"That's part of it. I'm not going to bore you with the long details, but I'll give you a summary. I tried to enlist for the Second World War, but I was rejected because of my physical health problems. All my life I was bullied and beat up because I was frail and headstrong enough to go back for me. I didn't agree with what they were doing to me, simply because they could. So I wanted to take down the Nazis, I mean I really wanted to. But they wouldn't let me. I was approached by a scientist who appreciated my spirit and had an idea about how I could participate in the war."
Kurt listened intently, fascinated by the story of how this youthful, beautiful man could have possibly been born seventy years ago.
"He had been working on this serum," Steven continued, "which would change a person. Enhance them and give them qualities of a super soldier. Enhanced strength, speed, basically increasing my muscle function. Before that, I was this short, thin pretender. I thought that I could be what the country needed, but I wouldn't have helped. Not until the serum was injected."
"Surely they needed more than fighters," Kurt reasoned.
Steve shrugged. "It was a desperate time. Hitler has his agenda and we needed to stop it anyway we knew how. We would use force. In the end, that's how we won, partly."
Kurt nodded, understanding. "Okay. But that doesn't explain how you're here now."
Steve swallowed. "One of the efforts to divert a missile from New York ended with me piloting a plane. My only option was to fly it into the water.
"My body was encased in ice. I woke up seventy years later, alive and in a completely different century."
Kurt realised that it did explain everything. The speech, the old-fashioned values, his understanding (or lack thereof) of everyday things that Kurt took for granted. "So you have no idea what you've missed since the forties?"
Steve nodded. "Practically. I know some things that my friends have filled me in about, but I'm virtually clueless. I don't know what any of your posters mean. Times Square is one huge enigma."
Kurt was sitting next to him now. "You still have your mask on."
Steve hadn't realised. He had been so used to having it on that he was just accustomed to it now. "Oh, right," he said. Slowly, he slid the mask off his face and blinked.
Kurt took in the sight of Steve without his mask on. Those sharp, intelligent blue eyes that peered back at him, showing Steve's purity and valour, but hiding his ghosts in the mist. He admired the strong jawline that made Captain America so aesthetically alluring.
"You're staring," Steve pointed out.
Kurt shrugged absently. "Well, you're beautiful."
Steve scoffed.
"I bet people tell Captain America how beautiful he is every day, right?"
Steve nodded silently.
"Well, Steve Rogers is beautiful, too. The mask dims the sapphire shine of your eyes, so I prefer you without it."
Steve blinked away the tears he knew to be approaching. To hear something so redeeming from someone who owed him nothing, but simply knew him for who he was, it was refreshing and emotional. "I don't exactly look like you. You are angelic."
Kurt would have rather not go into that particular topic, so he deflected it. "This isn't about me. I haven't been recently shoved into a new millennium with a secret superhero identity. You could use the self-reflection time. I get the feeling that you spend way too much time thinking about other people."
Steve exhaled through his nose. "Being a nationally adored superhero will do that for you."
"You don't enjoy the recognition," Kurt guessed.
Steve shook his head. "I enjoy the feeling of having helped people. Very much, actually. But all of these people that know only my alias and nothing about me, they don't help. They obsess over Captain America, some even make him their new creative muse. I miss being ordinary. Do you know what I mean?"
Kurt smiled sadly. "I don't. I've grown up feeling sequestered from normal life. For a long time, I was the only openly gay person in the town. That alienated me from being ordinary, but I was extraordinary in the bad sense. I was a freak in their eyes.
"Here in New York, I'm experiencing a new outlook. People are like me, they aren't going to ostracise me anymore. Well, some do, but it seems to be a minority. I'm just starting to feel ordinary. I guess we're on opposite ends of the spectrum."
Steve put a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "You're not ordinary, Kurt. I apologise if this ruins your hope of being like everybody else, but you're not."
"I'm not?"
"No. You're special. I can already tell. This is my second time meeting you and I feel it. An aura, if you will, that tells me that you're never going to be like the rest of the people in this city. Because you're so much more than they are. You have so much more to give and you should embrace that. Plus one of my friends may have…uh…Giggled you."
Kurt bit his lip in confusion. Then he realised. "Oh, you mean Googled?"
Steve clicked his fingers. "Oh, yes! That's what he did. Sorry I'm pretty clueless about what he actually did. But he just kept telling me information about you."
Kurt narrowed his eyes. "What do you know?"
"Well, you sing, which I would love to hear someday. I have a sound in my head based on what I think you sound like but I don't think it'll be accurate. You were in a singing group in high school. You won a national championship senior year. You graduated from…NADA?"
"NYADA," Kurt corrected, smiling at Steve's effort to know him. "New York Academy of Dramatic Arts."
"Sounds fancy."
"It really is. I learned a lot from there, including that I don't really see myself as a performer."
"You see yourself as a clothes designer?"
Kurt nodded. "Not originally, though. I've always had a thing for fashion, but I've only recently saw myself doing it forever. My first line of designs means that I'm getting off to good start."
"I'm sure you are," Steve agreed.
They chatted for a while about their hobbies and other things, Kurt explaining his in more detail for Steve, including his posters.
"The Wicked one is from a Broadway musical. Although it's based on a book, it's a prequel to The Wizard Of Oz."
"I saw that!" Steve's face lit up, making a connection from his old pre-frozen life to his modern revival. "It was great. They made a prequel?"
"Yes. Oh, it's lovely. I'll take you one day. It's my favourite musical."
Steve gradually tuned out of Kurt's conversation with him and suppressed the urge to ask for a kiss. As Kurt's lips spoke so passionately about the things in his life, Steve imagined how soft they would be against his. He hadn't kissed anybody since Peggy Carter before he was frozen.
His first kiss had been his best friend Bucky at age sixteen. Both boys were exploring their sexualities and their respective attractions to each other. It had been an amazing experience to kiss Bucky, but they had both agreed to remain best friends (and help each other when the opportunity presented itself).
While Steve had been attracted to Peggy, he hadn't really felt anything when he kissed her. He thought he would, but he hadn't.
And then he had heard that she was dead.
He felt grief, as he figured was natural, but it wasn't like he had lost his loved one. It was like losing a fellow soldier, for that was what she had been.
Looking at Kurt felt different to looking at Bucky or Peggy, it was deeper; like he was seeing something for the first time. Given the plethora of firsts he had been wrestling with since his awakening, Steve wondered what kissing Kurt would be like if looking at him brought so many different feelings rushing through him.
"Steve?"
He blinked. He had definitely zoned out while Kurt was speaking.
"I'm sorry, that was rude of me. I just got lost in my thoughts."
Kurt raised a brow. "What are you thinking about?"
Steve swallowed heavily and ran his tongue across his teeth. "Honestly?"
"I'd prefer that, yes."
"I was thinking about what it would be like to kiss you."
"You…you were?"
Steve clicked his tongue. "You sound surprised."
"I guess I am," Kurt said. "I don't get gorgeous guys wanting to kiss me a lot of the time."
"You don't?"
"Now who sounds surprised?" Kurt chuckled.
Steve raised a hand. "I will gladly admit to my surprise at your statement. I thought you would have men fighting each other just for a chance to kiss you."
Kurt blushed, possibly harder than he had ever blushed before. "That doesn't happen, no. But…you can kiss me."
Steve's head snapped up. He hadn't really expected to want him to kiss him. "You sure?"
Kurt smirked. "Maybe it's a 21st century thing, but if you're single and a beautiful man tells you that he wants to kiss you, you let him."
Steve chuckled, blushing that Kurt thought so highly of him. He tipped Kurt's chin up so that their eyes met, fire cracking in the space between them. Steve brushed a thumb over Kurt's cheek and smiled as his eyelashes fluttered quickly at the contact.
"You're so beautiful," Steve whispered, his face moving closer to Kurt's. He felt Kurt's warm breath on him and slowly pressed his lips to the younger man's, proving that it felt better than he had imagined.
Kurt shifted in his seat slightly and fed his hand through the short hair on the back of Steve's head, pushing the two closer together. Steve nibbled slightly on Kurt's bottom lip and Kurt suppressed a moan, not wanting the kiss to end.
Both men were in heaven, their lips joined with such fire that they were unable to quench the burning in their hearts.
Simultaneously, Kurt and Steve broke apart, flushed with plump, swollen lips and uncontrollably smiles on their faces. Their eyes shined with passion and longing for more.
"That was better than I imagined that it would be," Steve said, smiling.
"Definitely," Kurt agreed, too lost in the best kiss of his life to say much more than that.
"Do you have plans tomorrow?" Steve asked abruptly.
Kurt smiled and shook his head. "No, what did you have in mind?"
Steve ran his finger along Kurt's thigh. "I want to show you what I do."
Kurt pulled a stray hair back into its meticulous place. "I've seen that, already. Twice. And I'm very grateful for what you do."
Steve shook his head. "I want to you show the inside of what I do."
A deep breath.
"I want to show you the Avengers."
