AN: Thanks to all the reviews and favorites so far! Um... I don't have too much to say here... there was something but I can't remember... Oh, if anyone is interested, my other Avengers story, Loki Match, now has a cover photo of a drawing I did of Waverly. It's not the best but... At the end when Steve is telling Waverly about himself, I based that loosely off of the back story of Steve from the comics. I hope you enjoy!

I own nothing.

Chapter Three:

Steve sat in the passenger seat of Waverly's car. He had ridden his motorcycle into battle, parachuted out of a plane, zip-lined onto a speeding train, and crash landed Red Skull's jet. Riding with Waverly through the streets of New York was by far the scariest thing he had experienced thus far. It wasn't that the girl was a bad driver; things just had changed since Steve was last in a car. Steve clutched the handle of his door as the car whizzed around another sharp turn. Waverly had finally maneuvered out of the main city and was driving along not so busy suburban roads.

"You okay?" The agent asked. She took her eyes off the road to glance at Steve.

"I'm fine." The soldier answered. "Just… um… did driving laws change while I was out?"

Steve relaxed a bit as Waverly slowed the car to stop at a red light. He looked over at her to see she was smiling. "You don't like my driving?" She asked.

"It's just… fast."

Waverly let out a laugh. "Sorry. I like driving fast. Cars are faster now-a-days. Speed limits are higher. Plus, my car's a stick shift; you gotta drive cars like mine fast."

Steve nodded. "Right." He looked back out the window as Waverly took off again. Her small car sped past what the girl called a minivan. Finally passing something called an SUV, which looked somewhat like a fancy military Jeep, Waverly pulled the car into the parking lot of the mall. Waverly parked the car and released herself from the seatbelt. Steve followed suit. One the pair was out of the car, Waverly locked it with a click of a button on her keychain.

"So, this is the mall?" Steve asked.

"Well, it's a mall." Waverly answered. She led Steve through the automatic doors of the building. "It's one of the smaller malls around here. I figured the malls in the city would me a bit crowded and loud."

"I've been asleep for seventy years," Steve said, smiling down at the girl, "I'm not afraid of people and loud noises."

Steve noticed Waverly's cheeks flush the slightest shade of pink. "That's not what I meant," she said. "I thought it would just be easier to get you used to some stuff."

Steve said nothing but followed the girl into a clothing store. The store was dimly lit and a strange musk smell hung in the air. Music was playing but Steve had no idea what kind of music it was. The person singing, if you could call it that, was mostly just mumbling words and the bass thumped loudly in the background. A sign above the entrance indicated that the store was called 'Hollister.'

Milling about the shop were young men and women around Steve's age as well as teenagers and a few children who looked no older than ten. Scanning the room, Steve's first impression of the store was that it contained clothes that seamed suitable for roaming the beach. Steve followed the SHEILD agent to the back corner of the room.

"Any of this look like something you'd like?" Waverly asked.

Steve watched as she pulled a shirt down from a shelf. She unfolded it and held it up for the captain to see. Steve raised an eyebrow. The shirt was a bright pink with a stiff collar and the store's logo on the left side. Steve shook his head. Waverly folded the shirt back up and pulled down another. This one was a pale blue and button down. The logo was rather small and not very noticeable. It wasn't too bad. Steve took the shirt from Waverly and held it up to his chest.

"This one is all right."

Waverly smiled and reached for another. Fifteen minutes later, the pair had gone through maybe thirty shirts and Steve had only found three that he liked; the blue button down, a crisp white t-shirt, and a red, long-sleeved cotton t-shirt. Waverly had tried to convince Steve to try some shirts that weren't so plain and old-fashioned looking, but the soldier had declined. Steve had listened while Waverly explained the styles of the day, showing Steve the types of clothes her brother and her boyfriend wore. They just didn't appeal to Steve's taste.

Steve slung his three shirts over his arm and followed Waverly to the other side of the room where the pants were located. Here was yet another rack upon rack of ridiculous looking clothing. Steve declined a pair of shorts that were pink and yellow plaid. He said no to a pair of jeans that became narrower the closer they came to the ankles. And when Waverly held up a pair of jeans with more holes and rips than actual fabric, Steve actually laughed. The girl had finally convinced Steve on a pair of jeans that simply had a faded pattern on the front sides and a pair of khaki dress pants.

As the pair walked to the registers at the front of the store, Steve actually noticed something that he rather liked. He told Waverly to hold on and wove his way through racks of shirts. On a small display near the fitting rooms, Steve found a soft, brown leather jacket. It was fashioned after the style of a World War II fighter pilot's uniform. Steve found a jacket that would fit him and slipped it on her his blue, V-neck t-shirt. Turning back to Waverly, the soldier said, "I'll take this too."

The cashier rang up their purchases and Steve's eyes widened when the bleach blonde girl read out their total. "A hundred and forty dollars?"

"Yeah," Waverly said. Steve watched as she pulled plastic credit card from her purse. "It's not too bad. At least your jacket was on sale."

"I can't ask you to pay for all this," Steve said.

"It's okay." Waverly handed the card over to the cashier. "SHEILD gave me an allowance to buy you anything you might need. Clothes fall under that category."

The cashier handed Waverly back her card. Steve watched while the girl bagged up their purchases. Steve could never remember spending so much on clothes in his life. In fact, during the war, he remembered wearing pants that were slightly too small because he had donated much of his wardrobe to help displaced European citizens. This all seemed a bit frivolous to the war veteran. Steve sighed as he took the plastic bag from the cashier. Still, if this was what would help him find his place in the world, Steve knew it had to be done. He couldn't sit in his apartment forever, and quite frankly he didn't want to. There was still so much injustice in the world. As soon as Waverly completed her assignment, as soon as Steve was comfortable with the world around him, he'd suit up again. He'd jump back into battle and right the wrongs that plagued the world.

Steve followed Waverly to the mall's food court. Here was another new sight. A variety of restaurants lined the walls; everything from pizza, deep fried anything, gourmet ice cream, and Japanese sushi. People roamed between the food stands, sipping beverages from plastic cups. Waverly wound her way between the tables. Steve followed. Setting his bag in an empty seat, Steve dropped down into a plastic chair across from Waverly.

"They have a Japanese place here?" Steve asked. He could still remember the fear that all of America felt after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. He remembered the animosity and the prejudice against Japanese-Americans. Steve didn't buy into all of that; but he still remembered it.

"Yeah," Waverly said slowly. Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Why do you ask?"

"During the war," Steve said, "People didn't trust Japanese-Americans. They were all placed in internment camps."

Waverly nodded, comprehension dawning on her face. "Ooh, right. Yeah after the government realized what big asses they were being, the descendants were compensated."

"That still doesn't make it right," Steve said.

Waverly shrugged. "I know. That's the thing about today's world. Money runs everything. If there's a problem, throw money at it 'till it's fixed. What do you want for lunch?"

Steve scanned the food court once more. "Pizza is fine with me."

"Okay, we can split a small one. To drink?"

"Coke."

Waverly nodded and stood up. Steve watched Waverly take a few steps towards the pizza place before she turned back. She dug around in her purse for the credit card from SHIELD. "Why don't you do it?"

Steve sighed. "Okay." He took the card from the agent and headed to the pizza place. He stood in line behind a mother with her three rowdy children. When it was Steve's turn to order, he stepped up to the counter.

The cashier didn't even look up from the touch screen when he asked, "How are you sir? What can I get you?"

Steve's eyebrow jumped up his forehead. The cashier couldn't have been older than sixteen. His tone was flat and he leaned against the register with a bored look on his face. Back when Steve was his age, it was unheard of for adolescents to act so disrespectfully; especially when one was employed in customer service.

"I'll have a small pepperoni pizza," Steve said. "And a medium Coke."

The cashier, his dirty name tag indicated his name was Mike, pressed a few buttons on the screen. "Anything else?" The kid finally looked up at Steve. "Whoa, dude. Are you on steroids?"

Steve chose to ignore Mike's last comment. He did realize that he wasn't finished with his order. Waverly needed something to drink. Steve thought back to their meal at McDonald's. He was pretty sure Waverly had ordered a root beer. "And a medium root beer."

Mike huffed at being ignored and jabbed another button on the screen. "Whatever, man. Your total is 13 dollars, 53 cents."

Steve held out the credit card. The cashier looked at it, then at Steve and raised an eyebrow. "You swipe it dude." Mike pointed down at a small square screen in front of the register.

Steve looked down at it. A picture indicated that he was supposed to hold the card a certain way and then swipe it across the little machine. Steve did as indicated. The screen flashed and then brought up a white box. Steve looked back up at Mike.

"Now you sign," Mike said as if speaking to a two-year-old.

Steve picked up a plastic pen attached by a wire to the device. He scrawled his signature in the white box.

"Press done." Mike drawled.

As the words left the teen's mouth, Steve noticed a small yellow box pop up above his name that said 'done.' He clicked on it with the pen.

The register whirred and a slip of paper issued from the machine. Mike tore it from the register and handed it to Steve. "Just step down there and your order will be ready."

Steve followed the edge of the counter down to an area where other young workers were handing over plates of pizza and cups of soda. Steve waited until a young woman called out, "Small pizza! Coke and root beer!"

"That's mine, ma'am." Steve stepped forward. The girl handed him his meal, looking oddly at him.

"You're welcome."

Steve nodded. "Have a good afternoon." Steve left the girl gawking awkwardly at him and made his way back to the table where Waverly sat waiting. He sat down and placed the pizza between them. Then, he handed Waverly her cup. "I got you a root beer. I hope that's all right. You forgot to mention what you wanted."

Waverly smiled. "Oh! Thanks. Root beer is fine." The girl took her cup, and then the credit card, and eagerly dug into the pizza.

Once Steve and Waverly had both scarfed down a slice of pizza each, the captain wiped his face with a napkin. "So," he said, "I still don't feel like I know you very well. How about before you tell me more about… everything… you tell me about yourself?"

Waverly gulped down a mouthful of root beer. "Okay." She stayed silent for a moment, eyes focused on the ceiling, tongue between her teeth while she thought. "Well, you know Clint is my brother. Let see, I've never met my parents. Clint said they died when I was little, so from what I can remember, he raised me." While Waverly paused to think of something else, her purse clattered around the table top. "Oh! Excuse me." Steve watched the agent dive into her purse to retrieve her vibrating cell phone. Waverly slid her thumb across the screen and put the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

Steve tried not to eavesdrop, but with Waverly only feet from him, it was hard not to overhear her phone conversation.

"Yeah. Yeah I know – Look, I know we had plans but I told you something came up. I can't just ignore it, this is my job. Okay fine. Yeah. You too. Bye." Waverly pushed a button on the phone and returned the device to her purse. Looking back at Steve, she said, "Sorry about that. That was my boyfriend."

Steve nodded.

Waverly's cheeks flushed pink and she dropped her gaze to her lap. "He doesn't always understand that my job has to come first and I can't exactly tell him I'm a SHILED agent." From her tone, Steve could guess that the girl was embarrassed to admit this, but at the same time was longing to talk about her boyfriend problems. Her next sentence confirmed Steve's suspicions. "I don't mean to bother you when this. It probably sounds stupid. But it just helps to vent sometimes. I can't really talk to Clint about this stuff. He's scared away every boyfriend I've had since high school. He doesn't really know about Riley."

"Riley's your boyfriend?"

"Yeah. He's great. Just… has a temper sometimes."

Steve shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "That's unfortunate."

Waverly shrugged and shook herself. "Don't worry about it." She looked back up to the captain and gave a sad smile. "What were we talking about?"

"You were telling me about yourself."

"Oh, right."

Steve listened as Waverly told him about her interests and hobbies. She told him about her relationship with Clint, but steered clear of her relationship with her boyfriend. Once the pair finished their lunch, Steve felt like he knew the agent a lot better. As they walked out back to the car, it was Steve's turn to talk.

"Tell me more about yourself."

Steve thought for a moment. Most of the stories he could tell Waverly, most of his memories were painful. But if he was going to be sharing an apartment with her, she should know about his life as well.

"My parents died when I was young as well. I don't remember much about them. I went to college to study fine arts, but when the war started, I wanted to join the military. I tried five different times before they finally let me in."

"How come?"

Steve chuckled. "Well, I didn't always look like this. Before they injected me with the serum, I was a good five inches shorter and eighty pounds lighter. Muscles didn't exist on my body before my transformation."

"Hard to imagine you a scrawny." Waverly laughed.

"I was. My best friend, Bucky, he was more the kind of image you thought of when someone said soldier. We grew up together." Steve sighed. "He was like a brother to me."

Steve's voice dropped off and he became silent. He was thankful Waverly could read his emotions enough to let the subject go. When the pair reached the car, Waverly broke the silence.

"Why did you want to be Captain America?"

Steve looked up at her and met her eyes. "I don't like bullies."


On the way home, Waverly suggested stopping at a grocery store a few blocks from the apartment. Steve agreed, his mind wandering back to his nearly empty refrigerator back home and the bare cabinets. Ever since his first trip to the store, he hadn't been eager to go back. So now, Steve followed Waverly through the aisles as she pushed the metal shopping cart.

Steve had grown up not exactly poor, but not rich either. His family lived modestly and only bought what they needed. It was a little odd watching as Waverly pulled things off the shelf that weren't entirely necessary for sustenance; cookies, ice cream, soda pop. They reached the produce section where Steve did much of the picking.

"God, I feel so unhealthy now," Waverly said as Steve placed a bunch of bananas into the cart.

The soldier laughed. "Skinny girl like you? You've gotta eat more than cookies and ice cream."

Waverly snorted. "Sadly, no. I just have a high metabolism."

Steve began dropping apples into a plastic produce bag. "High metabolism? I age at slower than any human on this planet. I slept for seventy years. In ice. You think your metabolism is high?" Steve laughed. "I can't even get drunk. My body burns off the alcohol."

"Can't get drunk?" Waverly waved a hand. "Yeah right. I bet I can out drink you."

Steve placed the apples in the cart and raised both eyebrows in surprise. He let out a snort of laughter. "Even if I wasn't Captain America, I could out drink you. You're so little, I bet you'd be drunk after one beer. Besides, you're twenty, too young to even drink."

Now Waverly was the one laughed. "With Clint as my older brother, I learned how to hold down my alcohol. He's let me drink with him before."

Steve's look of surprise transitioned into a look of disapproval. The soldier had become used to drinking and the ill effects of alcohol from his time in the army. He didn't think of the beverage as horrible and inappropriate as he did growing up. But the thought of Clint allowing his younger sister, who was legally underage, drink with him… Steve just couldn't imagine being comfortable with that idea. If he had a sister, especially one who was underage, he'd never let her drink, no matter how "acceptable" society deemed the activity.

The pair was just finishing up their shopping when Steve jumped at the sound of a girlish shriek. He turned to see a young woman run down the aisle and throw her arms around Waverly.

"Waverly!" The girl exclaimed. "It's so good to see you." The girls parted and held each other at arm's length.

"Sarah, wow, I haven't seen you since high school!" Waverly said, her face in a huge smile.

The girl named Sarah released her friend and looked over Waverly's shoulder. "Wow, is this your boyfriend?"

Both Waverly and Steve blushed lightly at this question. Waverly let out an awkward laugh. "No, no. He's my…"

"I'm her roommate."

Sarah nodded, unconvinced. "Well," she said turning back to Waverly, "If your roommate ever wants to go out sometime, I'm available."

Waverly rolled her eyes and pulled Sarah a little ways down the aisle. Though the girls spoke in hushed tones, Steve could still hear them.

"Look, Steve isn't your type."

"Have you seen him!" Sarah whispered, gesturing at the soldier. "He's gorgeous. Of course he's my type."

Waverly smacked her friend playfully on the arm. "You really haven't changed since high school." Her tone was irritated but Steve saw a small smile on her face. Waverly pulled her phone out of her pocket. "Give me your number. We'll need to catch up sometime."

Sarah opened her mouth.

"Without Steve," Waverly stressed.

Steve watched while the girls exchanged numbers. A few short minutes later, Waverly had said good bye to her old friend and rejoined Steve at the cart. "Sorry about her," the agent mumbled.

"It's fine." Steve said. It wasn't the first time he had experience a woman throwing herself at him. Still, that didn't make the experience any less awkward. "By the way, you can call me a friend," Steve went on. His voice held a hint of playfulness. "I think we can call ourselves friends. You're really the only person I talk to regularly; besides the manager of the gym down the street."

Waverly responded by rolling her eyes playfully. "Okay Steve. We're friends."