Rain
In the next few days, Steve realized that Eleanor had become a regular part of his life. At the same time though, she had been a completely different part of it, with almost no connection to his superhero alter ego or his slow integration to the 21st century. She was just there for support and brightening his days. Someone to look forward to seeing every Thursday, and to miss every other day of the week. As Sunday came around, Steve could hardly do anything without thinking about her, instead, flipping his book over to the side where he only put stuff she talked about.
Star Trek.
It was the first thing on the list after all. He rolled over to the edge of his couch in his pent house apartment on the 57th floor of Stark tower. Two floors below Bruce Banner's and one below Clint and Natasha's shared quarters the room was rather quiet. The only time he could hear voices was when Thor, a floor below him, decided to yell at an electronic of some sort, still thinking that all could talk like JARVIS. He was much further behind than Steve was in understanding the uses for the hundreds of creations and renovations that Tony had put into their new home.
Scrolling down the screen on the television to search, he finally found the first episode, the premiere aired in 1966 but stationed in the year 2265. Finding the button for play, Steve sat back with his notebook in hand, prepared to see what it was even about.
The Monday following, there were three things on Steve's mind. What was Kirk going to get into in season two, the fact that Peggy's would be closing that afternoon, and that running in the rain outside in New York was a pain. People had their umbrellas out and ready to stab others in the eyes, and the aggressive nature of people who worked in New York and pushed their way through crowds made his morning run much more difficult than it should have been.
After changing and watching three more episodes of Star Trek, Steve figured he couldn't go another day without seeing Peggy's one last time before the doors were locked forever. The clock hit four and he fought his way back into the streets with an umbrella of his own, only to be opened once he hit the park and was half soaked.
Walking to Peggy's after doing so with Eleanor the previous week was effortless. The rain that dripped off of the edges of his umbrella and the trees seemed to express the sinking of his own heart as Peggy's last imprint on the world would finally close its doors. When he reached the street it was on, he found it nearly empty. The tourists from the previous week wouldn't venture this far in this weather it seemed. They were all too aware of how dangerous New York could get in the less touched roads when the weather got bad.
One person walked on the other side of the street with a suitcase and disappeared in a building, but apart from that, the street was lonely. Steve's swift movements slowed as he stared at the lights inside Peggy's. They had already been turned off.
Unnoticed until he got close enough, he realized that there was one other person standing before the red steps and doorway. Her hair dripped off her back and what he assumed was originally a light green dress had turned to more of a black with the water weighing down on it. The lack of an umbrella was explained with the box in her arms, covered in a plastic that kept the water from soaking down the cardboard, but the amount of time she had been standing there still gave way by its still soggy corner. From ten feet away, it was easy to tell that Eleanor had not been standing out there for a short amount of time, her shoulder's shook and he could hear her occasional sniff from where he was standing.
Her reddening eyes continued to stare into the glass of the building though, unwavering and not noticing the rain as it picked up. The unconscious shiver that raced through her body did not seem to affect her when the wind blew the bottom half of her dress.
She couldn't stand out in the rain much longer Steve realized, finally taking the last few steps forward to meet her. Reaching out he let his hand touch her shoulder. Her skin was ice. But her attention shifted to him and her red eyes met his own. She bit her lip before breaking out in another sob, her body squeezing in on itself and her fingers tightening around the box she held.
"Shhh." Steve pulled her closer to him, taking the box from her hands and setting it on the step under the umbrella, feeling the rain patter his own skin as he wrapped her into his arms. Had no one else noticed her standing here?
"I-I-I just… F-f-f-f-f-five years and h-h-he's gone a-and wh-wh-what am I gonna d-d-do?" Her stutter mixed between her tears and her shivering, but she didn't seem to realize how cold she was.
"We're going to walk back to your home. And get you into warmer, dry clothes." Steve paused and rubbed her back when she shook, trying to transfer his own body heat to hers. He felt extremely out of his element and could understand the references to women crying that Tony had made weeks ago. Her heartbreak made him want to cry as well. "Because, Eleanor, Eleanor? Hey, can you look at me?"
Her eyes rose to meet his own, and she tried to get her air back and gather her strength once more, pulling herself together slowly and squeezing her arms around herself tighter.
"Because Peggy and Mike don't want you crying yourself sick outside their shop. They want you—they want us to move forward and find something bigger for ourselves." She nodded and put her head into his chest again, shaking a bit harder. After a second thought, she pulled back and wiped her eyes and ran a hand through her hair, almost black from soaking in the water.
"O-O-o-ok-kay." She whispered. Her foot stepped back and she looked down toward the box on the step.
Steve beat her slow-moving body to it, handing her the umbrella instead. It wouldn't help either of them much at this point, but it was better than allowing themselves to continue in direct contact with the water falling from the sky.
"Lead the way. I've got this."
She didn't even take a second to protest before doing as she was told, moving at a pace beside him and obediently holding the umbrella high enough for him not to have to bend over to fit in. They walked for a few more minutes before she said anything, her voice still shaking with her shuddering teeth. "S-Sorry. God, you're soaked. Sorry. I-I can-"
From a mile away Steve could hear her next words, and he cut in before she could get them out. "It's okay Eleanor, I've got it. Keep leading."
She nodded her head and continued walking. The click-clack of her short heels on the ground in front of them was the only communication expressed between them. She'd point the direction they needed to go. After about ten or so minutes of walking, the area seemed to get more and shadier. The apartments were small and there was hardly a public thing without spray paint marring its normalcy. The homeless were seemingly in abundance under the bridge they walked over, and the occasional men they passed had their pants nearly around their ankles.
Eventually, though, they found themselves standing in front of a two-story building, where Eleanor pointed at the stairs. Her teeth still clacking together, she was able to murmur the number of her apartment. "214." It was at the end of the hall at the very top. She had taken down the umbrella when they got under the cover, and her arms moved immediately hugging herself. When they came to the entrance, she blinked at the door for a few seconds before looking at the box in Steve's hands.
He watched her lift the lid of the box up for a second and slide her limber hand in, pulling out the small brown handbag that she brought with her whenever they went out to eat. She dug around in it for a second before grabbing a chain with keys, unlocking the first lock with one, the second with another. She opened it and looked to the chain on the inside that kept it closed. It was locked.
Steve wondered if she had a roommate, but she shifted her body and reached both hands up, fiddling with the gold chain before unhooking it from the wall it pressed onto. The door opened generously and she stepped in, leaving the way for Steve to do the same.
He shifted the box in his hands and slipped off his shoes beside her own, keeping his eyes on her as she padded her way over to the small table between the kitchenette and what looked to be her living room. In a way, the small living space reminded him exactly of what he used to live in on his own after his parents both passed. Her apartment was much cleaner than his ever was growing up, but it was still minimalistic. A painting here, a stack of books there. She cleared the table, putting the small collection of candles she had onto the counter of the kitchen and moving the tablecloth away.
The captain set the box down in the designated area and then looked at her. Just as she had been when he first saw her earlier that day, her small form slumped as she held herself and shook lightly looking down and away from him rather than at him.
"Go take a shower and change." She glanced at him and then moved toward the kitchen, not really listening to his words. "Eleanor." She stopped. "Go get into something warm, I'm fine."
After a blink, she nodded her head and moved back toward the entrance way, taking a right in one of the doorways and shutting the door lightly behind her. Steve made his way back to the front door, by which he glanced out and around before shutting it and locking all three locks, finding the place where the golden chain hooked on.
The captain then walked into the kitchen and moved about, finding the hand towels and a pan. He set himself about making hot chocolate on the old kitchen stove like his mother had done for him when he was a kid. The sound of the shower turning on made him relax. At least she was doing what he told her to.
It took about twenty minutes before the shower turned off, and another five before the door she had gone in opened. He heard her feet stop and walk over to her door, the chain ringing as she touched or moved it. Then her steps got closer to him, and she peaked her head around the corner.
Steve, in his near dry shirt, sat at her counter on one of the small wooden chairs stirring across the way something in her pan. She stared at him for a few seconds, taking in the scene before watching him stand and walk around the counter. He took the spoon and poured whatever he was stirring into two cups, and then grabbed her package of mini-marshmallows and scooped out half a dozen for each cup. Once the pan was set into the sink, he walked around with the mugs in his hands and handed her one.
She seemed to fall out of her daze when she took it, putting her hands around the cup and savoring its heat. She wore stripped sweatpants that bagged around her feet and an equally comfy looking sweatshirt that had the name of some school or another on it.
"Thank you, Steve." She said after a moment, lifting the mug up to smell its contents and taking a small sip. A shaky shy emitted from her mouth as she stared at the marshmallows bobbing up and down in the drink.
He watched her for a few seconds longer before taking his spoon and eating out a white puff from his Hot Chocolate. "Any time."
With the ever-cautious rise of her shoulders, she made eye contact with him, pushing a small smile onto her face and running a hand through her still drying hair. She walked around toward him, glancing at the clock as she moved by it.
"I'm so pathetic. Sorry, you had to see that."
"Eleanor." It was still hard for him to understand, her necessity in demeaning herself when she had the least amount of reason. "It's okay. I'm just glad that I decided to find you before you stood out in the rain much longer. Heaven knows that you'll probably catch a cold if you haven't already." Almost as if expecting him to lecture her, she looked toward the carpet under the stool she sat on. "What would I do for lunch on Thursday if you were sick?"
For the first time that night he heard her laugh, leaving his own gut reaction to smile as well.
"What would you do?"
"I'd hunt you down with a thermos of chicken noodle soup."
Her eyes began to regain their sparkle when she looked to him, shaking her head back forth with fondness. "I don't think I'd put it past you." Her eyes scanned across her apartment, eventually falling on the box.
The Avenger looked at it closer. It was no bigger than the average moving box, and it hadn't been particularly heavy either. The corner almost ended up ripping off, much to his relief he was able to get it placed on the table before it did. The exterior was a general cardboard brown and the lid was slightly higher on one side.
With ever so light footsteps she made her way to it, flipping off the lid and looking at the things that were inside. One by one she began to take out various pictures and put them into stacks. Steve couldn't tell from where he sat what the pictures were of, but when she finished her stack she carried them over to him.
"I- I don't know how many of these you have, but I spent Saturday going through what was left of the photos that Sophie didn't want." She pulled one of the larger one's out of the bottom of the stack and slid it across to him, letting him get a good look at the group photo of him and some of the soldiers he had worked with. The classic sempai look made him shake his head with fondness.
"I don't have any." She slid the stack to him. On top was a framed photo of Peggy herself in her army uniform a soft smile on her face that made his heart squeeze with long lost attachment to her features. Her confidence reached from the photo and grabbed anyone looking at it. When he finally set it aside, he found just a jumble of candid shots of her, and group shots of his friends in the war. Once he saw the picture of Mike, he realized who, exactly he was. "Smokey. Mike was Smokey. He was in my select party, in command after my barber quartet. He was just one big kid."
Eleanor's grin reflected in her voice, a bit of melancholy to it, but a general happiness to her aurora, "I always thought of him as a little boy in an old man's body." Her hand went to the next photo of the Barber Quartet, Mike, and Steve holding drinks up. Bucky even sat next to him. "He was fascinated with the smallest things, like the colours of my buttons on my shirt, or the Jenga game I brought to Thanksgiving dinner, even when he was absolutely terrible at it."
"Jenga?" To continue her stories, that's what he really wanted her to do—he wanted to hear what the man had been like later in his life.
"It's a block game, where everyone takes turns taking out blocks and putting them on top. If the tower falls over during your turn then you lose, but everyone else wins. Mike didn't have the steadiest hands. I have the game…" She looked toward the bookshelf on the left side of the room "… somewhere…"
The soldier pointed at the picture she had in her hands. "That's Bucky. He was my best friend and lived just a street away from where Peggy's is at. And these four made up the Barbour shop Quartet. They usually drank me out of my pay, but they were the loyalist men I've ever known."
Pointing at one of them she said, "Mike used to talk about him, he passed away just a few years ago actually."
Tall, skinny, and unmistakably black was man she had pointed to and Steve laughed at his memories. "Yeah. That's Gabe Jones. He spoke French and basic German. Everything he said turned into a joke. But Dernier—him-" he pointed to a shorter man beside himself in the photo "only spoke French, so what we couldn't make out on our own, Gabe translated in terrible English."
"Vous parlez français?" Eleanor smiled at him, asking if he spoke French.
"Oui, mais c'est très petits français." Switching back to English, Steve chuckled and flipped through more pictures. "These are great."
"They're for you. To keep. I have a few others of just Mike and me. But those are the ones that I thought you'd want."
"Yeah. Yeah, Definitely."
The Duo sat for another hour passing stories about Mike and Steve's past friends, occasionally asking questions to keep the conversation going, and never losing the reminiscent smirks and scoffs.
Eventually, the hot chocolate ran out, and the marshmallows were digested, but long before then, the two sat next to each other on the counter shoulders touching as they shifted the photos and looked at them from different angles, talking about the good quality, and altogether good time the people within them were having. When the clock rang at 6:00, Eleanor jumped, almost out of her chair in surprise.
"Oh! Wow. It's dinner time. Um… I can fix something-"
"You don't have to-"
"I want to." She maneuvered herself around him and to the kitchen, running the water over the pan he used for hot chocolate and putting it into her dishwasher. "Do you like… hmm…halibut?"
"I said yo-"
"Yes or No Captain Rogers."
"Well… yes."
She took out two huge fish from her fridge and set them down on the counter, getting out two pans and starting the stove once more. "I'll fry them. But if you're so opposed to me fixing dinner, you could go to my fridge and prepare a salad or clear the table."
In the end, Steve did both.
At Seven, his phone rang, causing them both to jump as 'MY MILKSHAKES BRING ALL THE BOYS TO THE YARD' Blasted out mid-song. When Eleanor realized where it was coming from, she howled in laughter, practically dropping out of her chair as Steve, blushing bright red fumbled with it to answer.
"Hello?" He asked, watching as Eleanor covered her mouth trying to quell her giggles, falling unsuccessful in the next few seconds.
"Hey, Steve. It's Tony. Where are you? Pepper was wondering if you'd be home for dinner."
"Oh!" Smacking his hand to his forehead, Steve shook his head. "No. I'm eating dinner now. Could you tell her thanks though? I must have spaced it."
"If you say so. What time will you be home?"
"When I feel like coming home."
"Whatever you say Cap. Just don't be out past midnight or-"
Despite the manners he was raised on, Steve hung up on Tony before he could say anything else, blowing air out of his nose to calm down his annoyance for the man. When his attention turned to the brunette, still covering her mouths and shaking with giggles, it was impossible not to let the pink colour return to his face. To shield himself from the embarrassment, he put his hand over both of his eyes—the result ended up being the opposite of his intended though.
"My- Steve!" She heaved for air.
The groaning acknowledgment was something on the lines of "I know." The next thirty seconds that followed included him eating more of his fish, and her slowly gaining back the air and calming her giggles to a minimum. When the moment Steve thought he could finally explain himself came, he thought out his words carefully. "Tony—Put that on there when he gave me the phone, but he never told me how to change it…" He paused. " I couldn't remember what you told me to do so I gave up"
"I'll do it." She put her hand out and looked at the phone, fiddling with it for a second before finding a song she thought was better, setting it as his ringtone.
"Wait—What are you changing it to?" Once he seconded guessed, she laughed, hitting the play button.
"There ain't no sweet man worth the salt of my tears~" she sang along with the 1929 trumpet. Again, Steve felt the blush creep on his cheeks.
"I can't believe you even know that song."
"No one else will though." She laughed and played with his phone a bit more. "Now look. See? You press this at the ringtone you want, and then you put it as 'set all.' After that, it should be the only thing that plays. Unless you want someone to have a specific song, then you press add for contact. Like…hmmm." She scrolled through the songs for a second before searching for one herself. "Here. Champs Elysées—I'm going to put that as mine because I know French."
"So if you call me, the French song will play, and if anyone else does, it'll be the 'Salt of my tears'. Unless you can show me you understand and change it?"
"Okay. Here." He took his phone back and shuffled through the songs, realizing there were very few that he actually knew.
"You can press that Search button." She watched upside down and finishing her food as he worked his way through the dynamics of his phone.
"Okay." She watched as he typed in Duke Ellington, finding a list and eventually choosing 'Take the A-Train' and playing a clip. His eyes seemed to light up as he held down the buttons and repeated what she showed him how to do. When the confirmation came up, he set it down with a 'hmph' of accomplishment before digging in to finish his meal.
"Does, um, Mr. Stark do that a lot?"
"You can call him Tony. Though, sadly, he does it more often than I would like." She laughed. "Once even, I was downtown at a cafe, and I had forgotten to put it on silent or vibrate and right in the middle of it all…" he trailed off and watched the lady in front of him choke on her water in giggles again.
From then on, most of what they talked about was light and friendly and laughs were numerous. Together, they rinsed off the dishes and put them into the dishwasher, and shared some of her cupcakes from days before. As it always did when they were together, time seemed to fly by and the clock hit ten. Despite it still being a relatively early hour, Steve could see Eleanor slowly nodding off where she sat. They had taken out Jenga and she had shown him the ropes of the game, after losing two out of four, they were playing their final game.
Her fingers were so much smaller that it made fitting them into the tower easier for her than for him. At the same time though, she seemed to hold her breath, and only let it go when her block was safely on the top. After four previous games though, Steve had developed his strategy of making it as unbalanced as possible and crossing his fingers she'd make the final mistake.
They were getting down to the nitty-gritty though at that point, and Steve placed what he questioned to be the final block on the top. The whole tower swayed back and forth for a few seconds, and then seemed to stop, balancing on a single block on the bottom unevenly. Eleanor put her finger close to the tower, not yet touching it before it seemed to sway again. She stopped and shifted her seat, narrowing her eyes at the other side. When she did lightly push on one of the blocks, the tower shook again and she pulled back and stared at it.
Steve laughed, and the tower fell. He pointed at her and called out "You lost!"
Likewise, she put her finger into his face. "Didn't even touch one!"
"Did too!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Did too!"
"Did not- wait." Steve growled when he realized what she did and grabbed at her finger, not able to hold his pout when she squealed with laughter. He looked up at the clock and let out a breath. "Eleanor, I've gotta head back to the tower."
Much like he did, she looked to the clock and let her eyebrows raise. "Woah. It's that late?"
"Yeah. Here, let's put this away."
Following his lead, they carefully put the blocks back into their rectangular box with small grins. When they finished, and both stood, something unidentifiable was different. She grabbed a shoe box from below the counter and put the pictures that she had grabbed for him into it, sticking it into a plastic sack and handing it to him. They both made their way down the small hall and to the front door.
Next to the door, there was a small bench that he sat on to tie his shoes. Eleanor stood against the wall after unlocking her door and watched him finish lacing them up into neat bows.
"Call or text me when you get back to the tower, so that way I know you didn't get murdered on the way."
"I doubt they could if they tried" Steve chuckled, taking the box from her hands and smiling down to her "But I will."
"Thanks. For… Y'know. Today. I'd probably be still standing out there if you hadn't shown up." She pretended to kick the dirt off the entrance way matt.
"I guess I'm glad that I showed up then."
"So. Um. Thursday? Off of 58th?" it seemed as if her meek personality was making an appearance.
They agreed before she took a step forward and wrapped her arms around his back. Not needing a second reason, Steve hugged her back, resting his lips against the soft texture of her head. "Lock the door after me, alright?"
"I'm too paranoid not to. Be safe on your way Steve. It gets dangerous on this side of town, especially in the dark."
Reassured, the captain nodded his head and stepped out. The rain, at least, had stopped falling from the sky and he could see the occasional star between the clouds. "I'll be careful. Goodnight Eleanor."
"Goodnight Steve."
He made his way down the stairs before looking up and seeing her wave. He waved back and watched her shut the door. His fantastic hearing let him know when it was locked. When he was positive, he began his way down the street that he had walked with her. The puddles next to the sidewalk were huge, and some of the dips in the sidewalk gave way to the muddy water. Compared to downtown, it was much more rundown.
Passing an ally, he could see the three huge men staring at him from behind their cigarettes. The looks they gave him sent the hairs on the back of his neck poking up. Sketchy. That's the word that Tony probably would have used to describe the neighborhood. It seemed to be the place that tourists would find themselves getting mugged or in just bad situations.
Eleanor lived here too. He suddenly realized why she always spoke about leaving work so early in the evenings. Rush hour was probably the safest time as any for her to join the masses in heading home.
As he got closer to the city, the nightlife seemed louder. Mondays, while the first day of the week was often still considered a part of a weekend for most of the tourists entering New York and making their way to Times Square. With the masses, Steve had an easier time masking himself in their rush. His feet carried him around people at a slow pace, allowing his mind to wander to the girl he had left in her own apartment.
In the few weeks he had known Eleanor, he was attached. Something in the back questioned his actions. Was he becoming too attached to her? What was he bringing her into? At the same time, he didn't want her to leave, nor did he want to leave her. The humbleness that she had toward not only him, but everyone she encountered. A polite raise of her lips and a nod of her head at the people she made eye contact with proved that she was hardly a North Easterner by heart.
Crossing the street, he saw a rather small party of four looking at Stark Tower in all its beauty. They still had to get the letters fixed on the top floor, the A stuck out without its companionable letters. Tony was still debating the idea of making it the Avenger's Tower instead, changing the name and calling it HQ. It was practically Headquarters anyway for most them. The small group stared at him as he climbed the stairs and he couldn't help but give a small smile and wave when he used his key card—something he still couldn't understand fully, for access to the building after hours. The door swung open and closed after he entered.
Making his way to the elevator, Steve pulled out his phone and dialed the number of the girl he was thinking about.
"Steve?" Her voice seemed more tired over the telephone.
"Hey, did I wake you up?"
"No… well… yeah. I fell asleep against my couch though, so it's 'kay." Her yawn seemed to echo through the telephone. "You made it?"
"Safe and Sound. Have you got everything locked up?"
"Tight and with safety locks. I've lived here for three years Steve."
He sighed, thinking about the men just blocks away from her apartment, frustrated with their suspicious nature. "Just want to make sure."
It was a laugh, but it was a tired laugh. "Go to bed Steve."
"You go to bed too."
"Okay, just this once, I will."
"Sweet dreams Eleanor."
"don't let the bed bugs bite-"
"Bed bugs?"
There was a moment on the other line before she said anything. "Later. I'll explain later. Sweet dreams Steve."
"Whatever you say Ms. Moore. Night."
"Night."
His phone clicked off and he stared at the picture of her covering her face with a small smile, walking through his apartment toward his rooms. It was quiet, and he already was looking forward to Thursday.