Out of Time (Stasha)

[Steve Rogers]

Location: New York City
Date: 5/21/1943
Time: Afternoon

They'd been chasing a criminal who'd been rumored to have access to time travel. Steve should have believed it was possible, he'd thought they were dealing with a teleporter, like the blue man who lived in upstate New York, one of the X-Men. As it turned out, that wasn't the case, this man, Immortus, did indeed travel through time.

It was an odd situation from the very start, as SHIELD had requested that the Avengers track him down and deal with him. Again the Captain should have known something was up, Fury usually preferred to deal with these sorts of things on with his own resources. Things had appeared to be going smoothly anyway. Iron Man had pinned Immortus into a back alleyway, Steve and Natasha went to detain him, that's when he used his technology.

And here they were, in the past. Steve could tell just by the architecture of the buildings and the cleaner smell in the air. He scampered over to Natasha to check on her. Luckily, they hadn't been separated, but he had no idea if the time jump had an effect on her or not.

"Tasha," Steve pulled her up a bit, she was breathing, that was good, "Come on Tasha, wake up."

Knowing her, she was just fine, but they'd caused quite the ruckus, anyone could be checking on them in a matter of moments. As soon as she was up they needed to move, figure out what year it was, find out where Immortus went and hold him down until he took them back to their proper time period. He was already lost enough adapting to the 2010s, he couldn't go to another time period already.

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

Natasha blinked, realising she was propped up in Steve’s arms, and a faint smile curved her lips.

“Did we win?”

She tried to stand, her head swimming groggily. Things were fuzzy for the moment, but that was nothing she wasn’t used to; she’d probably hit her head. Experienced fingers immediately moved through her hair, searching for any tenderness, but the only injury she found seemed comparatively minor.

Swaying on her feet, she grasped Steve’s bicep to steady herself as she darted a look left and right down the alley.

“Where are we?”

She knew her way around New York fairly well, and she didn’t recognise the buildings around her. Either she’d been hit harder than she thought, or Steve had carried her a ways away from the fight when she’d gone down; her memory was a little blurry around the edges, too. All she could see in her mind’s eye was Immortus, then… nothing.

Standing up straight, she breathed deep, willing the clouds out of her mind. She blinked, looked around, saw nothing familiar. Nearby music played, a tinny sort of sound that drifted through the air; it was a big band sound, but the quality left something to be desired. Her eyebrows knit tightly together, she felt the first flares of panic at the back of her throbbing head.

“Steve…”

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

When Natasha finally woke, Steve relaxed. Seeing someone like Natasha, one of the strongest people he knew, unconscious was all kinds of nerve-wracking for Captain America. She seemed pleased too, obviously not aware of their situation.

"Not yet Tasha. We, haven't found him quite yet."

Maybe she wouldn't notice. Maybe she would just open her eyes and assume they were where they were supposed to be.

No luck on that. She was already getting up to her feet and looking around. She was too smart as to not question where they were, Steve knew better than to hope she wouldn't have until he'd gotten his head around the situation.

Tasha asked him where they were and Steve looked up at the buildings again, wanting to once again confirm his suspicions. They were still the same, and given the intel they had about Immortus, it was a safe assumption that they were in the past. What year, that was something Steve wasn't sure about. Frankly, it worried him a bit. However, he was used to being in the dark about the current year and whatnot, whatever year they were in, Steve would deal, and he'd help Natasha as well.

"I'm pretty sure that we're still in New York."

He could see her trying to figure out what was going on still, but in their current location, that wasn't going to be answered. He looked ahead before saying, "We should get out of here. Figure out what year it is, and work on tracking down Immortus. Without him, it's going to be a real long time before we get home." Home being the twenty first century. Still, Steve wondered about the year. What if it around the 40s? Would it be better if he stayed? He wasn't sure. One thing he did know, he'd rather be with Natasha, no matter what year it was.

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

”Still in New York…”

She immediately hated the sound of her own voice. Hated how rattled it sounded, how unsure… they were in the past. As many times as she repeated the phrase in her head, it still didn’t seem to make sense. So she tried it out loud.

“We’re in the past.” She looked at him, face tight with tension. “…Right?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. She wasn’t going to blend in – there was no chance of that in her tight Widow suit – but she could do her best to look a little less threatening. Tucking her gun down past her cleavage, she left the holster on her thigh empty. It was a little less conspicuous, but not by much.

Thinking quickly, she pulled her hair down, ginger waves falling over her shoulders. People loved her hair, they always had, and she would use it as a distraction if she could to keep people here from asking too many questions.

“We should move.”

It wasn’t a suggestion. She had no idea of the ruckus they’d caused, and they were likely going to be in enough trouble as it was. Their first order of business was plain – find out when it was. From the 50’s onward, SHIELD had had a small but solid place in government history, so if it was after that, all they had to do was enlist SHIELD’s help and then find Immortus. She couldn’t think about what it would be like if they were never righted…

“Let’s go, soldier.” She linked her arm with his, pulling him out of the alley.

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

Steve tried to keep himself calm as well. Natasha asked him to confirm that they'd traveled back instead of forward, the Captain nodded before answering her, "Yes. The buildings, they're the way they were when I was a kid. Before the war." Before he was frozen and taken to another time.

Tasha was already trying to fix her appearance to fit in, but they really stood no chance. Unless there was some kind of parade going on, they were going to have to be careful about moving through the city and getting to somewhere safe. After all, mask on or off, in this time period, Steve was the most famous man on the planet. He'd never boast about such a thing, but it was true. With the amount of films Captain America had been in, anyone could recognize Steve Rogers and question his being in ice or not.

So, they had to move quick, Natasha seemed to have a plan of action, moving him along. Steve followed her lead. Whenever they weren't in battle or on a mission of sorts, it seemed natural for Steve to do what Natasha said. After all, she seemed to have a better grip on things than he did in the 21st Century.

While she still would have a cooler disposition and a better head on her shoulders, particularly in situations such as these. However, in this particular instance, Steve was the one with better knowledge. He was probably prouder than he should be about that. The streets were mostly the same in name and numbers, but they all looked incredibly different, from the way the streets were made to the look of the buildings as well. When they were out in the open, Steve got a good look at the area and he could just tell.

"Tasha. We're in the 40's," to the Captain just felt like home, more than any other year would, "Still in Manhattan, but I'm not sure where we could go." Maybe, depending on the year, maybe his apartment was still around, but Steve doubted it.

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

While it was nice to have him close, especially in circumstances such as these, Natasha’s real reason for holding onto the Captain was that she was still a little disoriented, and the solid bulk of his frame beside her kept her steady. She just needed to walk it off, she was sure.

“The 40s…” she echoed under her breath, mind working overtime for a solution. Depending on the actual year, SHIELD hadn’t even been conceived yet. Steve was practically Elvis, and she was probably as far from a respectable looking woman as one could get.

She cursed in Russian, low, bitter, and passionate for nearly half a block before taking a breath and falling silent again. They needed to head away from population to avoid Steve being recognised; she would have to be the one to interact with the locals. And to do that, she was going to have to find suitable clothes.

“Look for something abandoned. We’re going to have to rough it for a while, soldier.”

There was a note of terror in her voice. The 40’s was not where she belonged. Her mannerisms, her beliefs, everything about her clashed with the time period. At least it was home for Steve. But if they never got back…

She couldn’t think that way. Determinedly slipping from side street to alley, she made her way toward what should have been the edge of Manhattan.

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

Steve could just tell how out of her element Natasha was. Not only was she still rocked from the fight and subsequent launching nearly seventy years into the past, but she really didn't seem to be very comfortable with the thought of even being here.

Cap was going to have to step up here. Tasha was, for once, completely out foreign to the place she was in. He would look after her in his natural time period. Sure, there were some things that would be unavoidable, like the long string of curses coming out of her mouth right now. Steve knew better than to interrupt Natasha when she was ranting to herself in Russian. He'd seen someone do it before, it was truly one of the first times Steve had been so scared he couldn't move.

She mentioned that they were going to have to find somewhere abandoned. Steve figured she was right, still, he wanted to know about his old apartment. It hadn't been much, but certainly, no one had been around to touch it. After all, his offcial records listed him as from Paramus, New Jersey. They could probably check there first. Brooklyn had plenty of room.

"Let's go to Brooklyn," Steve decided for them, "Call it a hunch Tasha. Trust me."\

Shaking up in his old apartment seemed better than squating in ana abandoned building. Steve hoped his hunch was right.

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

”Brooklyn?”

Her accent was a little more noticeable when she got worked up like this, and as soon as the syllables had left her lips, she knew she was going to have to try harder to cover them. This was not a good time to sound remotely Russian.

Tasha met his eyes for a long moment. He wasn’t stupid, and he knew far more about 1940’s America than she did. Not to mention that if they did get into trouble, they were probably two of the most capable individuals in the city, and they would deal with it. She nodded after a long moment, falling into step beside him instead of leading the way.

“There could be another… the same, but another… you out there.”

She never took her eyes off the street in front of her, dancing around the subject that was really on her mind. Peggy was here; Natasha had been privy to his file back when she was recruiting for the Initiative, and she knew well who Peggy Carter was. The file had included accounts from General Phillips and others who had included details about her involvement in the captains life, their hunches, and her eventual reassignment.

But survival came first, as always. There would be time for jealousy later. …Probably.

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

Steve hadn't thought about that. What if this was a year that he was still in America? That could be a huge problem. What would happen if he bumped into his former self? There were so many variables that worried Steve.

Steve had tons of questions now. Even worse, what if this was after the war? Peggy was here in the states, he'd read the reports on her after he'd received the letter about her death. If they ran into her, if Steve saw Peggy again, he didn't know if he could take it, he didn't even want to think about it. Having Natasha with him eased Steve's nerves a bit. She was off her game at the moment, but, just having her at his side, it made things a little better than they seemed.

He could tell she was off just by her voice. Natasha's accent very rarely peeked out. Usually when he heard it, Steve would be all over her, he quite liked it. However, now wasn't the time, they needed shelter, clothes, they probably needed to stop for the night too. Tasha was rocked and Steve was filled with doubts. So, he needed to take some charge here, "Just trust me, if this is a year that I'm still in America, then I won't be famous. We're going to be fine Natasha, I promise."

Looking ahead past the street, Steve saw a stack of newspapers. Taking Natasha's hand, he gave her a light tug to pull her along. As they passed the cart, Steve nonchallantly grabbed one. He felt bad, stealing the paper, if he had the chance, he would get money and bring it here when he could.

They ducked into another alley and Steve opened the paper, scanning for the date. He saw the year and sighed, "1943. I'm not here, the other me, that is." He looked to Tasha again, then said, "We should go to my old building. Miss van Dyne told me that my place was left alone until the building was torn down in the 1950s. I'm sure we can use it until we can figure out our next move." They needed to stop for now, sit back, at least until tomorrow.

Not waiting for Natasha to agree, he pulled her again, ducking through the streets into the heart of Brooklyn. Sneaking through the loud apartment building was easy, and Steve found his old spare key above the door frame. His old apartment was left intact, if a bit dusty. He walked to his bed and patted it down until the cloud of dust was floating out the window. For now, they had a place to stay. He turned to Tasha and said, "I know it's not much, but, hopefully this is alright with you."

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

Tasha did her best to stick to the shadows. Luckily, her best was very, very good, and Steve was able to snag a paper without incident.

”1943,” she echoed. Not many things scared her the way the thought of never getting home scared her. It was terrifying because she couldn’t fix it; she was good, but she was no Stark, and no amount of trying on her part would ever yield the brainpower to solve a problem like time travel. Their only hope was in tracking down Immortus. That she could do.

Natasha grit her teeth determinedly, anxious to be on the move, but she knew they needed rest and a plan first.

The apartment was the perfect safehouse, nearly invisible because of its surroundings – who would ever suspect? – and better than a lot of the places she’d camped during missions. She doubted the gas was turned on, but with the surrounding apartments and the lack of technology that went into insulating the apartments from one another, she knew they’d be alright.

Steve sat on the bed, dust motes flying everywhere, and she almost smiled. Her hair looked darker in the shadows of the room, and it shaded her face as she looked over at him, amusement lighting her eyes despite the circumstances.

“You realise you barely fit on that bed?” She stepped over, footsteps silent as always, taking a delicate perch on the edge of the bed. She felt so at odds with their surroundings; it was the first time she’d ever really clambered to be out of the Widow suit, knowing she’d fit in better just as soon as she wasn’t so ostentatiously dressed.

The tiny mattress was almost useless under her, and she thought to lean over and kiss his cheek, but decided against it at the last minute.

“I’ll take the floor.”

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

Steve's mask finally came off since traveling through time, again. He breathed in and looked at the room around them. From the time he'd turned eighteen until he'd gone to war, Steve had lived here. It brought up a lot of memories, good, bad or indifferent. Bucky hadn't lived too far away from here. They'd meet three or four times a week to have a meal together. Some weekends, if money wasn't too tight, they'd go to see the Yankees play, or take two girls Bucky had found on a date. Steve would usually duck out of those quickly.

He almost lost his cool thinking about Bucky, how he'd lost his friend to Arnim Zola, the look on his friend's face as he fell to his death in the icy waters below. Steve took a deep breath, Natasha was talking to him. At least he still had her, Tasha was here, and that meant that Steve wasn't alone. That was probably the most important thing to him right now. Being an Avenger, being with Tasha, those were the only things that Steve had in the 21st Century.

And, thinking about that, really, it was enough for him.

“You realise you barely fit on that bed?”

Steve chuckled and said, "Funny, I remember it being a lot bigger when I lived here." He even remembered sleeping comfortably on it the last night he'd stayed here, some seventy or so years ago. Now he was back, and while he didn't really fit, it was almost comforting that it was still here.

“I’ll take the floor.”

He looked back to her, his gaze turning serious for a moment. Natasha was an independent, strong willed woman, but she knew better than that. Steve would make room for her, or he'd sleep on the floor long before he ever, ever made a woman sleep on the floor, Natasha especially. There were some things that Captain Rogers absolutely would not bend on, and this was one of them. His hand found it's way to Natasha, the first part of her body he made contact with, which turned out to be her thigh.

Shaking his head, Steve spoke up, "Like hell you'll sleep on the floor."

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

Natasha had seen the photos of pre-serum Steve, and she knew the only thing that had changed had been his body.

“Steve, really.” He couldn’t know what her life had been like back with the Red Room, and even since then with SHIELD, but sleeping on the floor still ranked in the top 10% of her better missions. The temperature was livable, they had adequate shelter, and they weren’t exactly in the trenches, so though she was worried there was no way home, the fact was that she’d seen far worse.

“It’s fine.”

Leaning down, she brushed her lips against his, the gesture a little stunted but still sincere. She wasn’t domestic minded, but she knew it was something he would appreciate, and her hand covered his at her thigh momentarily. Physical proximity was something she enjoyed on occasion, after all, and her thumb traced over his knuckles.

She sighed, looking over his shoulder and out the window at the setting sun. Until they were on the move again, she knew he would be strung wire-tight; this was the part of a mission that always got to her. The foreplay. The planning before the activity. So much was on the line this time…

She smiled again, small and tight, mostly to reassure Steve. The gesture didn’t reach her eyes.

“Get some rest, soldier.”

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

“Steve, really.”

She was trying to convince him that it would be fine for her to sleep on the floor. He'd have none of that, Natasha could try and tell him it was fine, but that's not how Steve was raised to behave, it wouldn't be fine in his mind, try as she might. There was no giving into this kind of decision, Steve would either make room for Natasha by sleeping on his side, or he'd sleep on the floor before he'd ever agree to letting her do that, it wasn't in his programming.

"Tasha, you're not sleeping on the floor."

“It’s fine.”

"No."

She shut him up after that, giving Steve a light kiss. If she'd had a chance at calming him down and getting him to agree with whatever she wanted him to, this would have been her shot. He felt her hand slide on top of his, which Steve was finally realizing had been firmly placed on her thigh. When they pulled apart Natasha gave him a look that he saw right through. She was trying to be tough, Steve could tell by her smile, but her eyes were telling me how wound up she was. Honestly, Steve was fine, he was in an environment that he understood better than anyone they knew. Besides the worry of running into someone that he knew, like Peggy, he was completely fine.

“Get some rest, soldier.”

Steve chuckled. Maybe it was an inappropriate time, but Natasha was all worked up, and he wanted to make her feel better. So instead, he wrapped an arm over her shoulder, smiling warmly, "I'm not tired." That's when he leaned in and kissed her, pushing her down onto his bed lightly while going down with her.

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

An hour later, the room had grown dark, and Natasha lay curled against Steve on the tiny bed. It wasn’t the Plaza, but it was alright. And though she couldn’t quite let her worries slip away, she could focus on how nice it was to think about something else for a time. Something like the way Steve’s arm draped over her.

If anyone was going to teach Natasha Romanoff who she was without the gun, it was Captain America.

* * *

The next morning, she woke to a tight tangle of limbs, thanks to the extremely limited space. The sun streamed in through the window, looking brighter than she remembered it, and she blinked for a few moments before remembering where they were.

Reality hit her like a wrecking ball, and she quickly extricated herself from Steve’s sleeping embrace. The Widow suit was the only clothing she had, so she slipped it back on, the second skin oddly comforting in its familiarity. Out of habit, she checked her Glock, the metallic click of the safety bringing a soft smile to her lips as she slid it back into its holster.

The first thing was getting her some suitable clothing. If it had been any other mission, she’d snuck out and taken care of it herself, but for some reason, she didn’t want Steve to wake and find her gone with no explanation.

Not “for some reason.” She knew damn well what the reason was.

“Steve.” She stepped soundlessly back to the bed, perching beside it. “Steve, we should move.”

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

Steve finally settled in after the sun had gone and the night had come. He wrapped an arm around Natasha's waist, deciding he was pleased with how they fit on the bed. His head rested on one of his old pillows, just barely touching the top of Natasha's head. One forgets how much they love their old pillows until they haven't used them for awhile. If anything good could come from this, Steve hoped he could send them back to his place in 2013.

Still, with a lot of things to do, all Steve wanted to do at the moment was sleep. It found him soon enough.

~~~

“Steve. Steve, we should move.”

Steven Rogers woke up in his old bed. For just a moment, it all felt like a dream. Then, a dream within a dream. His entire life was so farfetched. His eyes shot open and he looked around. There was his dream woman herself, Natasha Romanoff. Steve breathed ease and put his head down for a moment. It was all real still. He was Captain America. He had traveled in time, twice now. Right, twice. He'd gone to the future and now he was back, trying to go for his third jump in time.

"Tasha," Steve rolled onto his back before sitting up, "We need to get some things together. Money, clothes." His stomach reared it's noisy head by growling, "Apparently food too." Inching to the side a bit Steve put his feet on the floor and stood up next to Natasha, "I hate to say it, but you might have to do this on your own. As it is, I have the most famous face in the world."

Moving to his old closet, Steve took out a hat and put it on his head, "And until I have some clothes that fit me, I don't think Captain America can go running around pickpocketing people." He rubbed his head before saying, "We don't really have a choice in that, do we?"