Chapter 3: The Awkward Get To Know You

Disclaimer: I own a lot of books, quite a few movies, and a large dog, but, tragically, not Marvel.

Secondary Warning: Thank you so so much to everyone that is following this! I'm glad you thought it worth your time at all. School is still kind of a thing, but my updates are kind of random. I'm super psyched to continue writing this and I just hope I can do the story and characters justice. This chapter is kind of filler, but adds context and character. Next one is the week between the end of Captain America: The First Avenger and The Avengers. As usual, praise and criticism alike are welcome.


After introducing ourselves, Fury hustles Steve back to HQ to be debriefed and tells me to follow. I think he forgot I ran because I am quickly left alone with no vehicle. On second thought, I'm sure he did remember and just wants to make me walk. I sigh and start to head back. Once there I stop at the main desk again to figure out where I'm supposed to go.

I end up outside an office unsure whether I should be knocking or not. With a shrug I decide to knock twice before just walking in. I push open the door to find Fury sitting behind a massive desk with Steve sitting across from him in one of the two chairs available. Steve glances over at me briefly before turning back to Fury who completely ignores me. Jerk.

I strut over to the available chair and plop into it gracelessly. I hate debriefings. They are so boring. This one has potential though as Fury and Steve go over every last detail of his last mission that ended with him taking a nosedive into the arctic. However much I wish I could pay attention, though, my brain has other ideas. No my brain wants to do math. Depressing math. Well all math is depressing in my opinion, but this math is extra depressing. Like, how long was Steve frozen in years, minutes, and seconds? I jump off that thought train asap. Morbid. I can't imagine freezing in icy water is much fun. I happen to agree with Robert Frost on the whole preferring the world to end in fire thing even if it was metaphoric or symbolic or whatever the proper literary term is. Okay it's gonna bug me if I can't figure out which word it is. Okay definitions. A metaphor is a figure of speech in which a word or phrase is applied to an object or action to which it is not literally applicable or a thing regarded as representative or symbolic of something else, especially something abstract. While a literary symbol is used to signify ideas and qualities by giving them symbolic meanings that are different from their literal sense. They kind of overlap, don't they? Ugh, it's been so long since I've taken a literature course. Maybe I should sign up for some new classes online or something. It'd keep me occupied at least. Besides what's the point of having a brain if you don't plan on using?

"Agent Greene," I vaguely hear Fury try to get my attention, but I ignore him because I am busy trying to figure out what classes I want to take. I've always like history and literature, but what else?

"Ma'am." I jump when I feel a hand lightly touch my arm.

"What?!" I exclaim. I look between them. Fury looks vaguely annoyed while Rogers looks mildly concerned. What a wonderful combo. I glance at the clock on the wall. Holy bejeezus it's been hours. What have they been talking about for so long? How have I been this out of it for so long? "Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts. What were you saying?"

Fury just gives me a hard look. Maybe today is the day I get shot. I won't let him intimidate me. I meet his eye…. And immediately regret it. Fury may not ~scare~ me, but even I gotta admit he is a tough cookie. I'm tempted to just tap out before the true staring contest can even begin, but my mama didn't raise no quitter. I raise a singular eyebrow at him and wait for him to fold. He doesn't of course, but neither do I so I guess it's a tie.

"Greene, I have a mission for you," he says to finally break the silence as he continues to do battle via stare.

"Sir?"

"I'm assigning you to watch over Captain Rogers." I blink. Dammit, he wins.

"Watch over?" I question before Steve can.

"Yes."

"Um…," I start.

"That's not necessary, sir," Steve declares.

"Um, why? Is he in trouble? Did I miss something while I was in La La Land? Does it need to be me for any reason? No offense Captain! I just mean, S.H.I.E.L.D. has better agents that could help you. As you've seen, I'm kind of spacey at the best of times. Not that I'm making excuses to get out of this, I swear. Uhhh, look I'll help, of course, if you need anything, Steve, but really Fury you barely trust me to take care of myself so why me?" It started as valid questions and dissolved into babble. If that doesn't describe my entire life I don't know what does.

"Captain Rogers is fine, Greene. And I know it isn't necessary, Captain. However, Greene could help you adjust to your new life. The world has changed a lot in the past seventy years."

"Plus I have a spare bedroom and can cook," I jest while rolling my eyes. Fury nods.

"So it's settled," Fury decides and gets up.

"But, wait a second, I really don't know how much help I'll be-" I start as Steve and I also stand up.

"I'm glad we agree," asserts Fury as he opens the door for us to leave. We share a confused look and walk out in a haze. The door closes behind us before we snap out of it.


I don't know what to do and I'm only two seconds into this "mission". I couldn't even face my own grief for like a year, how am I supposed to help Steve freaking Rogers? He literally just woke up into a world where basically everyone he knew is dead and Fury stuck him with me. Oh, how cruel the Fates are to this poor man. He deserves better.

"So," I start as I turn to him, "It appears that you're stuck with me, Capt'n, no matter how bad my qualifications are."

"Somehow, I doubt that you lack the needed qualities. Besides, you only have to ensure I don't die of starvation or from the elements," he assures me with a tiny little grin. Ah he has a sense of humor. Weird. You never expect a national hero that you read about in history books to be, well, a normal person. All the facts make you forget that these people lived, loved, laughed, and experienced all the other lovely human emotions. Right now, though, he reminds me of Dog.

"You make it sound like you're a pet," I tease him naturally.

"I've always been told I'm remarkably similar to a dog," he plays along. Hey! I was just thinking that. We're thought mates!

"Well lucky you, I have another dog for you to play with back at my place," I chuckle. "Anyway, are you hungry? I'm starving and unlike you I've eaten within the last seventy years."

"I could eat," he responds with a slightly bigger grin tugging at the corners of his mouth even as his eyes get a smidgen sadder. Aw he kids to hide his pain.

"Whatcha want to eat," I ask as I lead the way to the elevator.

"I wouldn't mind a burger and fries," he responds.

"I know just the place," I grin widely.


I park my bike in front of the diner and kick the kickstand down. Steve lets go of my waist and gets off as quickly as possible.

"Sorry again about the inconvenience," I laugh, "If I'd know I'd be transporting people I'd have taken my car this morning."

"It's no problem, ma'am," he stutters slightly as a blush crawls up his neck.

"Seriously, Steve, just call me Eve. My name is literally just a part of yours so it shouldn't be too hard to remember it," I tease him with a smile and lead the way into the building that houses the 50s themed diner.

"Hey, Mary," I greet the blonde, 20-something waitress as the bell on the door chimes overhead.

"Hi, Eve," Mary beams back while smoothing her vintage dress and grabbing some menus. "I see you brought a friend," she adds while very obviously looking Steve over causing me to roll my eyes, "Booth or table?"

"Booth works fine," I respond as Steve glances around the place. She leads us to an available booth complete with tabletop jukebox, hands us the menus, and promises to be right back.

I crack open the menu to the shake and malt options before speaking again.

"Sorry, this place is as close to the forties as I could think of on short notice," I tell Steve while mentally deciding that today is a double chocolate shake kind of day while also thinking about the differences between the three main kinds of chocolate. Cause there is dark, milk, and white chocolate which is weird cause white chocolate isn't technically even chocolate while dark chocolate is just nasty. I've made the mistake of biting into baking chocolate one too many times and now I just don't trust dark chocolate at all. "I'm a decade off, but I can verify that everything on the menu is delicious."

"I take it you come here often," he comments as I start messing with the mini jukebox.

"At least once a week. I love this place. It reminds me of the place my family goes to for dinner on Saturday nights," I confide as "Mr Sandman" by The Chordettes starts emanating from the speakers. I did say I was sentimental, didn't I?

"Well at least the food hasn't changed too much in the last couple decades," Steve comments while looking over the menu.

"Well about that actually…" I start with mock apprehension.

"What? Don't tell me you young folks have managed to mess up food," Steve plays along.

"I'm afraid it's become mostly just bad fast food chains. Then there are the restaurants dedicated to making the weirdest food," I stage whisper like it's a dirty little secret.

"Like what kind of strange food," asks Steve suspiciously.

"So, ya see, there's somewhere in America that makes chocolate covered bacon and that's not even the half of it," I tell him primly. He pulls a face. He really is a cutie.

"No thanks, I'll take a raincheck on that. Forever."

"So many strange deep fried things too, like, deep fried butter," I continue with a giggle.

"That's…"

"...disgusting? Revolting? A recipe for a heart attack?"

"Something like that, yeah," he replies with a grin.

Mary returns then to take our order. I let him order first and then order myself an absurd amount of food cause I am really hungry. As Mary leaves to put in our order and get our drinks I consider what I should tell Steve about next. I'm worried about him. He's just been through a lot and he's acting… way too normal. I'm afraid that if I stop talking he might, I don't know, go into shock or something. I'm suddenly distracted by the jukebox when it starts playing "Blue Moon" by The Marcels. Impulse and habit kick in and I start humming/singing along. I look back at Steve to see him giving me a strange look. Bewilderment maybe?

"Sorry," I mumble as a blush spreads over my cheeks. I'm an awkward mess in social situations. I have no idea how to talk to a guy, let alone one straight out of the forties. Even if Steve is being remarkably normal. So I force myself to breath and smile. Fake it 'til you make, as my mama liked to say. "I just really love this music. I get nostalgic sometimes. My parents were born in the fifties and played this kind of music all the time while I was growing up. It bugged my older siblings, but I never got tired of it," I tell him candidly.

"How many siblings do you have," he continues conversationally.

"Six. Four brother and two sisters. I'm the second youngest with only my brother, Harry, younger than me."

"Wow, big family. Do you get to see them often?"

"Ummm," I bite my lip nervously, "not really. They all live pretty far away and I actually haven't seen them in a long time. Enough about me, though, what about you? I mean, I've been reading about you since I was a kid, but history books never get it right I'm sure."

"Reading about me?" he reiterates while Mary puts down our drinks in front of us.

"Mhm," I nod while taking a sip of my shake.

"Why?" he asks looking dumbfounded.

"You're a national hero, Captain. You and the Howling Commandos took down Hydra, not to mention you're the world's first known superhero. Didn't Fury mention any of that? Or all the medals you were awarded posthumously, or so we thought it was posthumously anyway? I just assumed I missed that part of the conversation. At least tell me you guys scheduled a press conference."

"Press conference? Why?"

"To tell the world you're back, of course! I figured Fury would push for one. I was gonna offer to talk him out of it for you. He offered to do one of those for me, but I refused. I wanted to be normal again. You can do that now, if you want. Don't let S.H.I.E.L.D. get ahold of you unless you want to work for them, okay?"

"I'm sorry, you lost me."

Before I can even try to explain our food is ready. Huzzah for Mary and foods! I thank her profusely before she leaves us to dig in, which is exactly what I do. I haven't eaten in over twelve hours and my body isn't happy about it. Steve follows my lead and we eat in silence for a bit. Then I decide to try to explain myself better. It's hard with my brain constantly pulling me in million directions, but I try.

"I have a proposal," I announce, "While you eat I'll try to start making some sense, sound good to you?"

"Sounds good."

"Alrighty, so as I said you're a national hero. For obvious reasons like you're awesome and kicked a lot of Nazi ass. America is very proud of you, Steve. We made monuments dedicated to you, you have countless museum exhibits, though the best one is in the National History Museum in D.C., and you're in all the U.S. history books. You and the Howling Commandos are legendary, dude. So naturally, the world would be very interested to learn that you somehow survived the crash. I just assumed that Fury would be trying to get you to go public and do a press conference and morning talk show stuff. It's almost guaranteed to get out eventually either way so I thought he'd want to get out ahead of this thing and just do a grand reveal. Guess I'm wrong if he hasn't talked to you about it. Or maybe he's just giving you a break to regroup and recharge after everything. Don't know why he'd dump you with me for that, but Fury works in mysterious and secretive ways, so I'm always lost when it comes to him. Am I making any sense?"

"Yeah, it's… a lot to take in, but it makes sense, I guess."

"Okay, is there anything else you want to know? It'll take awhile to get you caught up, but I can answer any immediate questions you have."

"Well, I know we won, but how'd the war end," Steve requests after deliberating over what to ask first.

"You're in luck, my dad was a WWII nut," I begin before launching into the full explanation.

By the time we finish lunch I've glossed over the basics in modern U.S. history.

"Wait," I blurt randomly in the middle of talking about Obama, "You like have nothing to your name, but the clothes on your back. We need to go shopping. Let's go."

"You don't have to do that," Steve insists as I get up.

"But I want to," I tell him. "It's no big deal, I got plenty of the moneys. Besides I can't let my houseguest live in only one set of clothes."

"You sure? Is it really a good idea for me to stay with you? I know what Fury said, but it's not exactly proper," he mentions hesitantly.

"I'm sure. And, Steve, it's the 21st century, so no one cares about who stays with who. If it really makes you uncomfortable we can tell anyone who asks that you're my brother." I tell him.

"What about your family? Wouldn't they care?"

"As I said, I haven't had contact with my family in years and even if I did they wouldn't care. We had a constant stream of my sibling's friends staying with us for weeks at a time when I was little," I shrug while paying our bill.

"You don't even talk to your family? Why?" Steve questions as we walk out the door and head towards my bike.

"Long story," I sigh as I get on the bike. I hand him a helmet and motion for him to get on. Then we had for the nearest mall.