The classic 1940s Harley motorcycle glided into the parking lot of the high school, Steve fashioning a leather bomber jacket from the World War II era over a slightly undone plaid button-up shirt.
Because Steve, was, well, Steve, he failed to notice all of the heads he was turning.
But, for now, that wasn't important. It was a new school, and the only thing on Steve's mid was figuring out where the hell he was headed for each of his classes.
"Holy shit," Steve heard a prideful voice mutter, "who is that guy?"
"Not sure," was the response, "but you could top that bike, if that's what you're worried about."
"Nah," the prideful voice responded, "that bike is vintage. No way I could top that."
Steve grinned, and picked up his pace. In his new, US-Military-enhanced body, though, fast was fast. And walking fast meant that he ran into someone, both of them dropping their books like complete klutzes in the middle of the hall.
"Oh my god," Steve dropped to the floor, "I am so sorry! I-"
"Hey, it's not an issue," a voice like silk responded. Steve threw his head back up to see a red-headed girl in skin tight jeans and a leather jacket.
"I-I-I-" He was speechless, and turning red. He shoved his head back down again, resorting to collecting his books.
The girl stood up at the same time Steve did, pushing her hand out in front of him. "I'm Natasha Romanov. Don't think I've seen you around before-I know everyone here."
"I'm, uh, Steve Rogers," Steve murmured. "Thanks for, uh, helping me with the-y'know-books."
"It's not a problem, really," she responded. "Let me walk you to class." Just as she said that, a spiky-haired guy in a t-shirt, jeans, and converse came up from behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist, kissing her head.
"Hey baby," he breathed into her hair.
"Hey, Clint," she responded, kissing the guy on the cheek.
"Who's this?"
"Oh, this is Steve Rogers," Natasha responded, "he's new."
"Hey," Steve tried to flash a clever grin, holding out his hand.
Clint smiled right back, shaking Steve's hand with a firm grip. "Where you headed, Rogers?"
Steve flinched at the use of his last name to address him, his memories of the US Military volunteer program fresh in his mind. "Please, call me Steve. I'm on my way to a chemistry class."
"I know where that is," Clint said. "Follow me!"
Halfway through the school and around a corner, Steve said good bye to Natasha and Clint and walked into the class.
It was all full, aside from one lab bench in the back that was completely empty. As Steve made a beeline for the open seat, the teacher stopped him.
"Class, this is..." the teacher paused, hoping for Steve to say his name.
"Steve Rogers," he finished, pulling at his collar on his shirt (which, though unbuttoned, felt like it was choking him), and headed to the back of the classroom to sit down.
Right in front of him was that prideful voice again. "He's the motorcycle kid! The one from the parking lot!"
His friend sitting next to him, the same guy as at the parking lot, nodded. "Yeah, it is. Hey, be friendly! Turn around!"
The prideful voice turned around. Well-kept and goateed, the kid looked like he belonged in a college class. "Hey, kid," he started, "I'm Tony Stark. Nice to meet you."
Steve grinned at Tony, acknowledging that he heard him. "Hey, Tony, I'm Steve." Of course, Steve knew that he would have to put as much effort as possible into learning the material he had missed-since it wasn't the beginning of the school year-and fast, but once the lecture started, he knew that would almost be impossible.
Tony continually glanced back, checking to see the reaction on Steve's face at the long and confusing lecture on how various chemicals balanced out others, and other random chemistry facts. When Steve got too confused, Tony slyly got up and shifted to the empty seat at Steve's lab table.
"Y'know," he muttered to Steve, "I'm not a huge chemist, either. I'm much more into physics. But I can try to help you."
Steve gave Tony a thumbs-up on the table. "Thanks. I started thinking I shouldn't be in this class, but I guess if I have a willing tutor..."
Just then, the bell rang. And Tony Stark stopped his original lab partner to talk to him, with Steve at his side.
"Oh, hey, by the way," Tony motioned to his friend, "this is Bruce Banner. He's a total medical science nerd, so..."
"If you really need help in chemistry," Bruce interrupted, "I'm your guy. Not this idiot," he pushed tony back jokingly, "who thinks he knows everything."
"Well, no one knows everything," Steve mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.
As they started walking out into the hall, Stark grinned. "Correction. Not everyone knows everything. I'm one of the few exceptions."
"Right, I forgot," Bruce punched Tony in the arm, "you're Mr. Perfect."
Tony pushed back his hair and grinned. "Yes I am."
