CHAPTER EIGHT

( THE MOON LANDING )

THE CLOCK ON the wooden desk flips it's large ivory numbers to read a quarter past nine. The clicking of a pen is the only abrupt sound that can be heard in the office, aside from the soft hum of music. Quinn sits at her desk with the lamp on, tapping her foot against the linoleum floor to the beat of the music playing. She skims over the sheet of paper in her hands, not a single comprehensible word on the page, just codes for the stitch in the upgrade she said she'd look over for Jack.

She clicks the pen top down as soon as she finds something that could lead to a possible error in the system and circles it in red ink before returning to tapping her foot to the beat. There's a knocking on the door that takes her off guard for a moment, then her heart settles into a steady beat as she realizes what - who - it is. Tonight she's actually expecting company. She crosses the office to open the door to the department and is greeted by the appetizing smell of takeout food wafting into her face. Her stomach gurgles as she smells the air.

"I'm glad you're here," she chirps. "I thought you weren't going to show up at first." Her mouth starts watering as the scent of takeout makes it's way into her nostrils again. She props open the door to let Steve through, taking the warmth of the food away from her. "I asked you what you wanted, you said Chinese," he points out. "There's no Chinese in the canteen."

"I appreciate it," she grins, directing him to her desk, placing the plastic bags they were in with a crinkle on the top of the pale wood. She hadn't eaten since one, she was famished. It didn't dawn on her that she hadn't eaten that much until he asked her what she wanted via text (she was proud). Since then she's been craving for her food to arrive, even chomping on the base of her red pen to send away the hunger in her gut.

"Can we eat before the lesson, or can I at least eat during? I don't want to seem rude or anything. I just haven't eaten in a while," she asks him for his opinion as she opens up the bag of takeout, letting a humid puff of air out of the bag. She waves her hand in front of it, pushing away the steam. She looks over to see his hands stuffed in his pockets, slightly smiling. It makes her chest feel tight but at the same time, she feels flustered. "I don't care," he simply states. "Eat before if you haven't eaten in a while," She pulls out Dustin's chair from his desk and pats the grey cushion, indicating that he can sit down. He carefully sits down, pulling the chair closer to her desk as she divvies out the food.

"Chopsticks or fork?" she questions, holding up the crimson packet of chopsticks and a fork with a napkin in a plastic film. He studies the two for a split second and then confidently says, "Chopsticks."

Quinn tosses him the package with a scoff. "Show off," she says under her breath with a playful eye roll. "What do I owe you?" she asks as she hands him the white folding container of sweet and sour chicken. His brows furrow as he takes the container in his hands, he meets her gaze as she begins pulling out her wallet from her purse. "Don't worry about it." he shrugs off, unwrapping the chopsticks and digging into his food.

He watches as she digs through the bag and finds the receipt, looking for her order. Once she finds it she reaches into her wallet and pulls out a generous amount of money - more than what the receipt says as she tries to calculate the tax. He reaches a hand out and places it over the wallet, catching her attention. "It's really okay. This one's on me," he encourages his statement with a small smile. Something inside of Quinn clicks as watches the smile cross his face.

She can't quite pinpoint the right emotion but whatever it was it makes her flustered. She places the money back in her wallet with a sigh. "Fine but I buy the next meal," she warns him, earning a chuckle. She snaps her fingers catching his attention, he's a bit taken back as she points at him. "I'm serious," she emphasizes, her stare is deadpan. He nods his head slowly in agreement, a confused look on his face. "It's the twenty-first century. I can pay for my own food,"

"I'm being chivalrous,"

"That's something a lot of people don't do in this day and age," she counters back, finally sitting down in her chair and popping open her container of food. The smell of the lo mein makes her mouth water. "There are no gentlemen in this century?" Steve questions just as she takes a large bite of food. It takes her a moment to respond as she quickly chews the noodles. "Few and far between," she notes after she gulps down the bite.

Steve hums as he takes a bite of his food along with Quinn. He nods his head as he takes in the information. "Who says I'm not one of them?" he questions. Quinn tilts her head to the side as she thinks about Steve and what defines a gentleman. "I suppose you could be, you come from the time where people were the most gentlemanly, but then again I don't know you that well," she quips, wrapping another group of noodles around her fork. "I'd say we're becoming fast friends," he declares.

"Are we friends?"

"Is this not what friends do? Eat and talk?"

"I'd say we'd have a student-teacher relationship, but if you want to be friends we could be friends," Quinn provokes him with a smirk. He smiles as he shakes his head at her antics, grasping on to a piece of chicken with his chopsticks. "Student," Quinn indicates to him by pointing to him, in a low voice. "Teacher," she points to herself. She repeats this three more times to get her point across, as he begins to chuckle lowly.

"All right teacher, what are we learning today?" he inquires, brushing off his hands on a napkin and pushing aside his sweet and sour chicken. She hums as she finishes her bite, reaching into her desk drawer. "You need to address me formally, by the way, it's miss Cruise from now on," she teases. "And you're stripped of your title of captain, you're now just Student Rogers,"

Steve rolls his eyes playfully and nods his head. "Yes, miss Cruise," he drones out, crossing his arms across his chest. She pulls out a thick little book, with an astronaut on the cover looking down at the Earth from a satellite, and gives it to him. There are different colored tabs for footnotes coming out of the sides of it, making Steve's lips press into a thin line at how many there were. "We're going to the moon today," she beams.

"Magnificent Desolation," he reads off the cover of the book. Quinn moves in closer to look at the cover of the book, she carefully takes it out of his hands. "This book is amazing," she brags as she points to the cover. "Please tell you at least know who that is."

Steve's brows knit together as he tries to figure out the answer. It's hard to see if there's anyone within the astronaut suit since the black helmet hides any human features. He quickly glances at her, seeing her eyes light up with excitement as she waits for his answer. He's going to disappoint her with his answer. He studies the figure for a few more moments trying to put the puzzle together but it's not clicking for him.

He hands her back the book, shaking his head. He sees her eyes falter a bit in disappointment but she tries to mask it with enthusiasm in her voice. "That's okay, that's why we're here," she chides, as she points to the astronaut with a polished fingertip. "This is actually supposed to be Buzz Aldrin, I don't think that's an actual picture of him in space, but as you can see he's also the author of the book," she explains, watching Steve take out his small notebook from his back pocket and write down Buzz Aldrin's name.

"He's the very first person to ever step foot on the moon. I actually have a clip of the moon landing that I'll show you, but he's the guy that says 'This is one small step for man and one giant leap for mankind' as he's taking the first steps on the moon. Are you actually writing this down?"

"Some parts," Steve sheepishly admits as he picks up his pen again. "'Quinn really likes space'," he reads aloud as he writes it down in his notebook with a sly smirk on his face. She pushes his arm playfully telling him to stop. "I do like space. Reminds me of how small we are and makes me really wonder what's out there-"

"Aliens, war," Steve cuts her off in a monotone voice while leaning on his elbow, earning a slight glare from her. "Sorry," he apologizes for bursting her bubble. "Continue,"

Quinn sighs before she delves into the book. Steve nods his head as he listens to her explain the moon landing, he feels as though he's going to be here a while as she gushes about how good the book is. However, he can't help but find it charming the way her eyes lit up as she talked about space. If only space were as kind as the words that were coming out of her mouth as she explained the history behind the moon landing, the cold war, how people think the moon landing was faked.

This lesson seemed a bit more planned than the lesson they shared at the monument, that was a spur of the moment meeting. Quinn had even mentioned that what they were learning that day was basic knowledge. He has somewhat used what he had learned a little within the little time there was between lessons.

"Do you have any questions?" she asks after the clip of the moon landing stops. It had been an hour since they had started talking about the event, both of their positions have changed from their upright postures to more relaxed. Quinn's feet lay perched up on the flat of her desk, while Steve sits in his chair backward, his head resting on his arm on the back of the chair. He shakes his head slightly with a smirk.

"I have a lot but, I think I can figure out the answers in the notes. You're not going to quiz me, are you?" he questions in a tired voice. Quinn shakes her head. "I'm here to help, not to traumatize you with tests like in school," she informs him. "Besides you're a big boy, I think you can figure some things out on your own." She earns a tired chuckle from him, making her smile as well. "Is there something, in particular, you wanted to learn by the way? I want to cover it in case I miss it,"

"I'll let you know when I can think of something," he says, rubbing his eyes. They sit in silence for a moment, both not wanting to acknowledge that they're tired. Quinn couldn't go home just yet, she needed to stay a little longer. "You'd have fun with Tony," he says, breaking the silence between them. "Stark?" she questions for clarification, watching him nod his head lazily. She snorts at the thought her and Tony Stark actually getting along. "A bit conceited for my taste," she states.

"Tony? Conceited?" Steve jokes, earning a tired chuckle from Quinn. "Tony Stark, the billionaire playboy," Quinn says listlessly with a bitter tone in her voice. Just to be compared with Tony Stark makes her feel useless. Tony was smart but he also had money, whereas she was here trying to take advantage of overtime just to get by. "Speaking of playboys," she starts looking over at him with sleep filled eyes. "Do most women act like Kara when they're around you?"

"Who?"

"Kara," she points up at the main office where they had stood earlier in the day. "The receptionist."

"Oh," he hums out. "How did she act?"

"I don't know," she shrugs, sitting up from her lounged position. She flips her hair over her shoulders repeatedly, giving him a goofy smile, causing him to laugh a little. "Ditsy? she clarified. Steve rubs his forehead as he tries to recollect the events as to what happened earlier. His lips tug into a thin line as he thinks. "Most of the time," he answers rubbing his chin. "You didn't act-" he reinterprets the hair flipping as best as he could, causing her to grin. "-Like that?"

"I was prepared to staple you to death,"

Steve nods his head as he recalls their unorthodox meeting a few days ago. "Still an option?"

"Still an option," she confirms as she grabs her stapler and unclicks it. He pushes her hand down as she lets out a tired giggle. "I used to not be able to talk to women," he confesses, earning an insulted look from Quinn. "Am I not a woman?" she questions, fake offense lingering in her voice. "You are, you are," he backs down easily once again, too tired to even think of a comeback.

He could tell that she was tired, so was he. "Ready to go?" he questions her, getting ready to stand up. Quinn's eyes falter as he suggests leaving. "No, I have to stay here," she informs him, grabbing the shock cuff that she had been working on, preparing to work on it as soon as he leaves. Instead, he gives her a concerned look. "Why are you here all the time?"

"Personal," she answers in a curt voice, she eyes him defensively. He's hit a soft spot, he easily backs down. "You should get some sleep," he tries to convince her. She nods her head at his words in agreement. "I should, but I can't," she informs him, determination flooding her voice. "I made a promise, I have to keep it," she gnaws at her bottom lip as she thinks of her mother, trying not to cry in front of Steve.

"You should go through, I need to actually do some work," she instructs him, patting him on the shoulder. "I'll be here tomorrow if you wanted to stop by, same time," she assures him with a soft smile. He yet again purses his lips as he stands up, getting ready to leave. Before he turns to leave, he slings his jacket over her shoulders, surprising her. She looks up at him confused.

"I'll be back for that," he declares, pointing to the leather jacket strewn across her. "It's incentive. Keep it safe," he instructs her. She smiles softly up at him, tugging at the jacket on her shoulders. "I will,"