The First Avenger
Muse: Quick and probably inaccurate in terms of 40's slang (like two words but still.)
~.~
It's the crash that always comes as a surprise to Stiles, like he can't understand how after all this time the Doctor is incapable of properly flying the Tardis. Then again, and if he listens to whatever Derek would say in this situation as truth, the Tardis manages herself while merely taking hints from the Doctor when she feels like it. Stiles doesn't really understand how the Tardis is alive, but she is. Derek says you can almost hear the beat of her heart if you listen closely and if you're lucky enough to have supernatural hearing.
He collects himself from the cold steel floor and wobbles towards the control panel where the Doctor, who had managed not to fall over in the crash, smiles brightly. "We're here!"
"Yay." Stiles mumbles. "But where is here, exactly?"
"New York 1940-" The Doctor looks into the pseudo television screen for the appropriate details but Stiles can care less about the specific date. It's the 40's which is incredibly exciting and its New York.
The last time Stiles had been in New York it had been for his Great Aunt Helen's birthday. He'd found the city filthy and cloistered wondering how so many people can live in one place and not find themselves rushing out into the world. While it had been nice, all the lights and places to go to keep yourself occupied, to Stiles it had felt so far removed from home as he could get. New York in his time was an alien place. Maybe New York in 1940-something would make his opinion of the place better.
He changes, gets laughed at because he looks like a newspaper boy complete with hat ("News boy caps are cool.") and with the Doctor leaves the safety of the Tardis in a filthy alleyway. He can smell the rot of the trash and can taste the damp in the cold bitter air-
-and there is a small boy being beaten up by a grown man. The kid isn't backing down, hardly breaks a sweat and there is determination in his blue eyes, something Stiles has seen before and is very familiar with.
He steps forward, is pulled back and glares at the Doctor.
"Fixed point." He says just before a man dressed in uniform punches the aggressor. The boy-who Stiles realizes is a small grown man, takes the uniformed army officers hand and grins. "Now, before they notice us..."
New York in the 40's is better than Stiles could have ever imagined. He wonders about the vortex manipulator he's left at home with Derek. He'll bring the overgrown pup with him next time, have a date in old Manhattan. Derek would fit just fine.
He's in Hell Kitchen (he loves that name, Hells Kitchen just sounds so...so dangerous!) when he sees the small man again. He's got a fat lip and a bit of a bruise blooming at his jaw but otherwise, he's as right as rain. Someone who is obviously used to getting tossed around.
He grins at the guy and introduces himself (because, hello, kindred spirit anyone?)
"Hey, I uh...I saw what happened back there in the alley." He sticks his hand out as soon as he's in front of the guy. "That was awful. I should have done something."
"It's fine." Small guy winces but takes Stiles proffered hand anyway. "Ankle-biter like me needs to cream someone every once in a while."
They both laugh at the joke and its nice. Stiles thinks that maybe he's making a friend out of this person who seems so incredibly small and frail and yet has such personality.
He hears the Doctor call for him and he knows it's time to go. Oh well, he thinks, at least I can come back. Maybe I'll see this guy again.
"Crap gotta go. Oh! Yeah, rude of me not to introduce myself properly before. I'm Stiles by the way, Stiles Stilinski." Stiles grins. "And you are?" It would be a lot easier to drop in on the 40's to see this guy again if he gets a name.
"Steve Rogers. Well I guess I'll see you around."
Stiles isn't sure if he's still breathing or if he's in complete shock. After Steve's gone Stiles has to all but stumble towards the Doctor, whom he hands off of for dear life. "Was that...that was..."
"Yes."
"Oh my God..!"
"Steve Rogers, hell of a man when I met him."
"But thats...you know him...when?"
"2012. May I think."
"That was...oh my God that was Captain America!" Stiles stares at his hand, the one which he used to shake Steve's and he feels automatic electricity. He wonders how long he can go without washing it.
"It certainly was."
Later, back home, Stiles will rifle through his father old boxes, things his dad hadn't been able to part with from the grandparents place. There is a scrapbook with old cards, collectors edition pristine and mint-Steve Rogers is in full uniform as far removed from the tiny body he'd worn when he and Stiles met.
He smiles brightly, dresses in his best jeans and shirt, plucks his news boys hat off the bed. The vortex manipulator has never seemed so cool now that Stiles has somewhere he feels he needs to be.
It's a week before Steve Rogers will be enlisted and a while before he's given the experimental serum which will transform his body. It's a longer while before he become the infamous Captain America.
Before all this however, Steve Rogers finds himself bumping into Stiles again and inviting him out for a drink.
~.~
Muse: ...what the heck did I just write. No excuse for this at all. Sorry!