AN: So, I've decided to switch between Steve's and Clint's POV from chapter to chapter, at least until I get the story set up a little bit. For those of you who've read Loki's Match and know Waverly's back story, this chapter might be a little boring for you, but I had to set Waverly's character up as well. To my Loki readers, her back story is going to be a little bit different in this story, but not terribly so. I don't think I have anything else to say about this chapter... I'm not sure if I like it but oh well... Thanks to all who've reviewed/favorited and to those who are following me! You're awesome! I hope you enjoy.

I own nothing.

Chapter Two:

Alarm clock buzzing, Waverly suppressed a monstrous yawn and opened her eyes. Six in the morning had come far too quickly for her. She rolled out of bed, slamming her toes into one of the many boxes that still littered her room. The young agent stifled a swear. Hopping on one foot and massaging her stubbed toes, Waverly bounced across the room to one of her boxes of clothes that was sitting, still packed, in her closet. She dug around in the box for a moment, locating her fluffy pink bath robe. Wrapping it around her, she crossed to another box that contained her toiletries. Armed with a towel, soap, and shampoo, Waverly left her room and entered the small bathroom across the hall.

She hadn't shared a bathroom with a man since she moved out of her brother's apartment. And quite frankly, she wasn't eager to share one again. But, she was surprised when she entered Steve's bathroom. It was fairly clean, only a few misplaced objects here and there. The toilet lid was even down.

Waverly carefully cleared a spot for her bathroom necessities in the medicine cabinet, then undressed for the shower. With the warm water raining down on her, Waverly began to scrub herself clean. Though she was concealed by the shower curtain and the bathroom door was locked, she couldn't help be feel a little uncomfortable about showering in Steve's bathroom. Well, technically, it was her bathroom as well, but still. She hardly knew the captain and he hardly knew her. Waverly remembered when Fury had brought up this assignment. She had argued until she was blue in the face about moving in with Steve, but Fury was insistent. To hear the director tell it, Steve was completely unable to manage in his new apartment. So, Waverly had no choice but to accept the terms of the assignment. Clint hadn't been too thrilled, though, but Clint had always been annoyingly overprotective.

Massaging her scalp, Waverly had to admit that for the first night, it hadn't been so awkward. Steve was clearly shy around women, but he was kind and polite. Dealing with his old fashioned customs might be a challenge, but to the super soldier, they weren't old fashioned. Waverly would have to get used to some of Steve's mannerisms. She wasn't here to change the captain, just help him find his place in this new environment.

Finished with her shower, Waverly turned off the tap and wrapped herself in her towel. She quickly dried off, then slid her robe back on. Waverly crossed quietly back into her room. She didn't want to wake Steve. She knew, from Fury, that he had trouble sleeping so if he was still asleep, Waverly didn't want to be what woke him. The SHIELD agent hung her robe on her door knob, and then wove her way around boxes to the closet. She dug once more in the box of garments and pulled out her SHEILD uniform. It was irritating, really. She wasn't an agent like her brother or Romanoff; why did she need to wear a jumpsuit like they did? She pulled the leather garment up her legs and thrust her arms into the sleeves. Waverly was authorized to carry a gun, just for safety precautions, but she was no more a true SHIELD agent than her mother was. Well… that might not be entirely accurate. Waverly had never known her mother. She hadn't known her father either. Clint had said they died when she was very young, so the archer had taken to raising her. It didn't make sense to Waverly. Clint was only about twelve years older than her. How could a twelve year old kid raise his baby sister? Waverly never questioned her brother, though. He was the only one she had, so she accepted what he had told her. Though, when she was in high school, she snuck into one of the SHEILD computer labs and used their files to try and figure out who her parents were. She got in some serious trouble for that. So did Clint; after all, he was the one who gave her the security code to get in the lab in the first place.

Thinking about her parents made Waverly uncomfortable. The whole story of how they died and how Clint raised her was fishy enough, but when she thought of her parents, she couldn't remember a single thing about them. And Clint never told her anything. It just felt very strange, but Waverly had learned to not ask questions. The agent sighed and zipped up the jumpsuit. She buckled her belt around her waist and checked to make sure her hand gun was concealed safely in its holster. To finish off her morning routine, Waverly pulled her still damp, shoulder length hair into a pony tail, brushing her bangs to the side of her forehead. All that was left to do was to put on her boots and her identification badge, but those were out by the front door.

Waverly quietly left her room and walked into the living room. She started when she saw Steve asleep on the sofa. His mouth hung slightly open and he was gently snoring. The History Channel was playing softly in the background. Well, Waverly thought, at least he's asleep. Waverly was extra careful as she entered the kitchen and poured herself a bowl of cereal. Chewing as quietly as possible, Waverly watched Steve as she ate.

It must be so hard for him. He has no one. Everything he knew has changed. Steve rolled over on the couch, as if aware that Waverly was watching him. His back was now to the girl.

Waverly glanced over at the clock on the microwave. 6:30. She had half an hour to get to headquarters. Better get a move on. Traffic in New York was madness. The agent placed her bowl in the dishwasher, vaguely aware of how unused it looked. Steve must not know how to work this either. I'll have to show him when I get home. Waverly left the kitchen, wondering how she would explain some of today's typical tasks to the soldier. So many things Steve was unfamiliar with came naturally to Waverly. Like using a cell phone; the agent didn't think twice when using the device. Frowning, Waverly became aware of how hard this assignment could be. When Fury had first come to her with the idea, she thought it was all a bit silly. Now, she was worried she wouldn't be able to do the job justice.

There wasn't time to doubt herself now. She had to get to work. Waverly pulled her combat boots from the closet. Well, they weren't really her boots. They had been her brother's when he was maybe sixteen. He had given them to her when her feet had grown enough to fit into them. Still, she had to pull the laces as tight as possible or her feet slipped in and out of the leather boots. Every once in a while, if she didn't take the time to lace her boots properly, she wound up with blisters on her ankles from all the rubbing.

Finally ready to go, Waverly let herself out the apartment and shut the door gently behind her.


As usual, SHIELD headquarters was alive with activity. Waverly gained access to the small, unassuming building in lower Manhattan by swiping her identification badge at the door. Once inside, a thumb print cleared her to the lower levels of the building. Finally, a retina scanned allowed Waverly entrance through a large metal door. The door slid open, revealing the deep, winding passages of the massive SHEILD headquarters. Most of the operation was hidden in these tunnels, far underground, away from prying eyes. Waverly massaged her watering eye as she walked the familiar path to Fury's office; she could never get used to the sting caused by the retina scan. The door to the director's office was closed, so Waverly knocked.

Fury's deep voice answered. "Come in."

Waverly pushed open the door and entered the director's office. She had since gotten used to all the electronics in Fury's office. He had the typical desk and chairs and even a bookcase and filing cabinet. But the SHEILD director also had three computers, a touch screen planted in the surface of his desk, and so many other blinking and whirring devices, it was a miracle the director could hear himself think.

"Good morning, Agent Barton," Fury stated. He closed a window on one of his computer screens and leaned forward in his high-backed leather chair. He rested his elbows on the edge of his desk, steepled his fingers, and balanced his chin on the tips of his fingers.

"Good morning, sir," Waverly responded. She took a seat opposite Fury's desk.

"How are things with Captain Rogers?"

"I've only been living at his apartment for one day, sir. There's not much to tell."

Fury raised his eyebrow. "I gave you this assignment a month ago."

"I understand," Waverly said, keeping her voice level, "But with all due respect, sir, I was a little busy putting together Steve's file to hand over to Agent Colson."

"Steve?"

Waverly suppressed an eye roll. "I'm living with the man. I think we can be on a first name basis."

"Right." Fury leaned back in his chair. "So what have you been doing with the captain, thus far?"

"I'm there to help him adjust. I've been answering his questions. Explaining things to him. He was asleep for seventy years. He's still a little overwhelmed. He's still dealing with the post-traumatic stress and the fact that everyone he knew is gone." Waverly's voice held a hint of annoyance that the director chose to ignore. Waverly respected Fury as much as any of the other agents did, and she trusted the director's decisions, however, she felt Fury was too eager to rush Steve back into the world. Waverly wasn't entirely sure that was the best course of action. "Director Fury, I know you want Steve to be the founding member of the Avengers, but he's nowhere near ready to lead a team of super heroes. You gave me this assignment. You told me to do whatever I could to help Steve adjust. Things need to be taken slow. At least for now. Just imagine how hard it is for him."

Waverly watched as the director processed her words. Waverly could hardly imagine Fury understanding the feelings of others, let alone the emotions of a soldier from World War II; the director hardly showed any emotion himself aside from anger. Eventually, Fury's brow unfurrowed and his gaze softened. "All right, Agent Barton. Do as you see fit."

Waverly nodded. "Thank you, sir."

"I will want weekly reports, on everything. How he's adjusting, his mental status, everything."

Another nod from the young agent.

"The doctors are still worried he may succumb to suicidal thoughts or obsessive compulsive behaviors to combat the stress."

"I'll keep an eye on him, sir. He's in good hands."

"He had better be." With that, Fury dismissed Waverly.

Waverly gave Fury a respectful nod, then left his office. Trekking back above ground, Waverly grumbled to herself. That meeting had lasted maybe fifteen minutes. Did she really have to get up at six in the morning just to tell Fury things were okay? Well, Fury had expected her to have been living with the super soldier for a few weeks by now. Waverly should have had more to report on. Next week, she'd have a full report for Fury. But how interesting it would be, Waverly didn't know. Today I taught Steve how to use a cell phone. Yeah, Fury will be thrilled.

Back in the bright sunshine, Waverly walked across the street to the parking garage where her car was located. She hated driving in New York, and if it was up to her, she wouldn't even own a car. But SHIELD agents, with guns swinging from their hips, often got strange looks on subways or in taxis, so Fury strictly prohibited the use of public transport.

Waverly's car was on the second level; a bright red Chevy Cobalt. It had been given to her, as nearly all of her belongings had been, by Clint. It was a sixteenth birthday present. The car was used, but in very good condition. Needless to say, Clint made enough as a SHIELD spy and assassin to fully support his sister through her youth. Waverly opened the car with the press of a button and climbed inside. She buckled herself in and started the engine. Making a mental note, Waverly decided to take Steve for a drive in her car sometime. They had cars in the 40's, but nothing like the vehicles of today; what with all the new features, gizmos, and do-dads. Waverly pulled into the busy New York street and joined the crawl of commuters going about their daily drives.


It took Waverly half an hour of idling along, honking the horn, and dodging bicyclists before she was back at the apartment. The drive having put her in a bad mood, Waverly's irritation was only increased by her growling stomach. Her bowl of cereal seemed ages ago. Grumbling to herself, Waverly unlocked the apartment door and swung it a little too forcefully open. The door banged against the wall, and Waverly hissed out a swear.

"Bad morning?"

Shutting the door back, Waverly jumped at the sound of Steve's voice. The agent swiveled around to find Steve seated in the kitchen, a plate of pancakes in front of him.

"A bad drive." Waverly answered. At the smell of Steve's breakfast, Waverly's stomach growled audibly.

"Would you like some?" Steve asked. He pushed the plate towards the center of the table as Waverly sat down across from him.

"Oh, no." Waverly held her hands up and shook her head. "They're yours."

"I made extra. Please."

Waverly gingerly took a pancake from Steve's plate and ate it plain, no syrup or anything. She was just glad to have something to eat. "Thanks," she mumbled around a mouth full.

Steve's nose scrunched up at Waverly's lack of manners and one of his fair haired eyebrows disappeared into his bangs.

Waverly gulped down the food. "Sorry," she said. "I'm used to living with Clint. Manners don't matter so much to him."

Steve's face softened. "It's okay. I've seen worse."

"I bet you have."

Still rather unfamiliar with each other, the two finished their breakfast in silence, with only Waverly commenting on how good the pancakes were and Steve mumbling a modest 'thank you.' When the pair had finished eating, Steve rose and took his plate to the sink.

"Oh, wait," Waverly said, also standing. "I was going to show you how to work the dishwasher."

"I think I've got that figured out," Steve said.

"Then why don't you use it?"

Steve huffed out a sigh and shrugged. "It just seems weird to me, some of this technology. Like people just don't want to work for anything."

Waverly leaned against the counter and opened the stainless steel door of the dishwasher. "I can see how you think that. A lot of stuff we have today is just for lazy people, in my opinion. But I couldn't live without a dishwasher." The agent reached over and took the plate from Steve's hand. She slid it into a slot in the dishwasher's bottom rack. "This is more for convenience. Tell me this, when you were in high school, you went to school, came home, had some chores, but that was it right? Your dad worked, mom stayed home?"

Steve nodded.

"Things aren't like that anymore. Most of the time, moms and dads work. Kids are involved in a lot of things outside of school. Sports, clubs, some have jobs. I started working for SHIELD when I was a junior." Waverly crossed to the sink where Steve had placed the skillet, mixing bowl, and other dishes he had used to make his breakfast. Waverly picked up as much as she could, and placed the dishes in the dishwasher.

Steve grabbed what was left and mimicked the girl's actions. "So, this is because people simply don't have the time to stand at a sink for ten minutes and wash?"

"Pretty much." Waverly said. The dishwasher wasn't near full but she decided to turn it on anyway, to make sure Steve knew the proper button pushing procedure. "Now, while this is running, we're free to go do something else."

"I guess that make sense." Steve said. Waverly watched as he leaned against the counter opposite the dishwasher. His blue eyes were concentrated on the appliance, watching as steam issued from behind the closed door. Seeing him standing there, transfixed by such a simple part of everyday life, made Waverly realize just how old Steve was. He was like the great-grandparents of her friends from high school; the ones who didn't understand all the "new-fangled" gadgets of this generation. But, to someone who didn't know his story, to most of the world, Steve looked like a typical twenty-something guy. He had neat, short hair, sharp features, big muscles. Waverly had to admit that Steve was attractive as any other guy his age. But the way he dressed, the way he talked, he'd never fit in. Waverly wasn't worried that Steve would be made fun of for his old-fashioned ideals, she was just worried he'd be lonely. This assignment wasn't supposed to last forever. If she could accomplish anything, Waverly just hoped she could help Steve make a few friends; especially some outside the scope of SHEILD.

"How 'bout I go get changed and we go to the mall?" Waverly asked the captain, pushing herself off of the counter.

"Um, sure." Steve answered.

"Cool." Waverly exited the kitchen and headed towards her room. "I can show you my car, and while we're at the mall, maybe get you some clothes to help you fit in more."

"Waverly, they had cars in the 40's."

"Yeah, but not like mine." The young agent turned back to face Steve and shot him a mischievous smile. "Clint taught me how to drive. You're in for an eye opening ride."