ONLY YOU » STEVE ROGERS [EDITING]

28 /| to better years

twenty-eight

*•.*

NEW YEAR'S EVE, 2013
AVENGER'S TOWER

"HAPPY NEW YEAR," the room yelled as the clock struck twelve.

Geneva ducked into a side room in the new Avengers Tower. It was a dimly lit coat closet, actually, and a rather large one at that. The combination of different perfumes and body sprays along with the champagne she'd drunk earlier made her feel woozy.

Yet she'd endure anything to get away from the prying eyes and rising moods. She couldn't pretend that her year had been anything less than a nightmare-filled hodgepodge of hours and minutes and seconds.

Alien armies and space portals weren't things she could just forget about. She'd stood in the ruined streets of New York City with a gun, throwing knives, and a really good aim. Geneva had later pried an alien staff from the corpse of one of the vicious creatures, but that was beside the point. She'd never felt so small in her whole life while somehow managing to look brave in everyone else's eyes.

It made her sick.

But she was better now, and pretending just wouldn't work for her anymore.

"Glad to see I'm not the only one who needed to get out of there," a voice came from the door of the closet, surprising her. Steve Rogers stood in the doorway, peaking a head inside. His hair was messier than she remembered it, sticking upwards at the top of his head. She was sure it was a new haircut. He was beginning to look less and less like a man straight out of the 40s. How he felt was a mystery to her though. Aside from the STRIKE missions at SHIELD, she hardly ever saw him. "I can go if you'd like."

She shook her head, her flattened hair slinking into her face. "No, no, but if you are gonna come in, hurry. Someone could see you."

He paused, glancing behind him. The sounds of laughter and loud music flooded into the closet as he tried to decide. In the end, he entered, slowly shutting the door behind him. "Natasha was looking for you."

"I'll find her eventually," she mused. A pause. "So what's got you running from the party, Captain?"

He leaned on the door, arms crossing over his chest. They remained on opposite sides of the closet. She studied the lines of his face, looking for any sign of distress. There wasn't one. "2014," he said honestly. He tilted his head, watching her intently. "You?"

2014? Geneva thought. What did that mean? "Lots of things. Too many to name." Silence. She scrambled for something to say. "This is a good song." She was referring to the muffled melody that seeped into the closet.

Steve shrugged slightly. "I can't quite get into today's music."

Geneva nodded. "Understandable. Maybe you should try building up to it."

"I'm trying to catch up on everything," he said, his hand going to the pocket of his pants. "I've got a list." He showed her his tiny brown leather notebook.

She took a tentative step toward him, an arm stretched out, surprising herself. "May I?"

Steve stood up straight, placing it in her hand. She skimmed the list, his handwriting was messy as if he'd scrawled the words in a rush. He handed her a pen. "Go ahead and add to it, if you'd like."

Gingerly, she took it. "You might as well watch Point Break and Lord of the Rings, that way you'll understand where Stark gets his nicknames for our teammates. Dirty Dancing and the Sister Act too." She scribbled away. "Listen to anything by Prince, Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston, Queen, Anita Baker and—" She paused feeling his eyes on her. He gave her a small smile. "And get back to me when you do." She would have more things for him, maybe a few books too.