Frayed Lines

In which Steve is a master of disguise.

Steve stared in the mirror at a man with dark brown hair. He sighed in relief and thanked modern hair dye. Back then, he would've had to wear a wig. He snorts at he thought of wearing one.

He thanks the hairstylist who gave him another strange look. Not wanting to be recognized, he quickly paid and left. As he strolled down the sidewalk, he looked around.

Last time he was in Chicago, it was the Cubs versus the Dodgers and Bucky somehow scrambled enough money together so they could watch it. Of course, that was before the Dodgers went to Los Angeles and the Yankees took their place. Now there's a team Steve despises.

On the way to the optometrist, he gazed at the skyscrapers. Their pure height astonished him. Who would even want to go all the way up to build it? Then again, this whole new generation is crazy. They have no sense of respect or dignity and certainly no love for their city and the people that live alongside them. They don't even greet each other anymore like the old days, just giving cold shoulders to the rest.

A bell dinged as Steve walked into the small office. Glasses lined shelves and an ad for contacts were on the wall. Contacts?

---------------------

The late night noises of the 21st century always bothered Steve. Cars honked and people bustled still. It made him miss the old days.

"Ugh. Stop it." he muttered to himself. "You decided to escape to learn about the 'now', not the 'then'." He sighed and smirked at his reflection.

Brown hair, green eyes, and glasses made much more of a difference to his appearance than he hoped. Especially with some stubble growing in since he decided to add a beard. Stark would be proud of his clothing too. Although he felt like an odd cross between Nick Fury and Clint Barton. With his black leather jacket, ripped jeans, and a purple shirt, he looked far from the 40's.

He shoved the last of his clothes into his backpack along with his journal. Before he headed out, he thanked the manager.

"Hey, do you know any places of attraction that are still open?" Steve asked. The manager stepped back from the desk and looked Steve up and down.

"There are two places I'd recommend to you." He replied. "Its either the Art Institute of Chicago or the Havana Club." Steve thought for a moment, thanked the man, and got on his bike. Looking at Google Maps on his new phone, he checked out where the Havana Club was.

'Might as well go to a place they wouldn't even think of finding me.' He smiled. And he'd finally do what Natasha wanted and get some practice.

----------------

Bucky looked up at the towering hotel as cars whizzed by. A black motorcycle with a man wearing a black leather jacket pulled out of the parking garage they were next to and zoomed off.

Chicago wasn't how he remembered it, but then again, what was? The baseball game with Steve brought a smile to his lips.

"Buck? Bucky? James?" He looked up to see Natasha beckoning him over to the counter. "My husband and I were looking for my little brother. He told us he'd meet up here but his room key is there." Natasha smiled convincingly as she wrapped her arms around Bucky's waist.

"You said a blondie with blue eyes?" The manager looked away thoughtfully at the room key and shook his head. "Wrong hotel ma'am. The guy that stayed in this room was most certainly not blonde. Maybe go to the clubs around here. He might be at one of them. After all, that's what Chicago is famous for." He smiles at the pair and looks back at his computer.

Natasha sighed and looked up at Bucky as they walked to the exit. "I guess he's not in this one." Bucky smirked. "Maybe check your little tracker again. He might be at a club." Bucky broke down laughing after that, the thought of Steve surrounded by drunks and gyrating bodies making him die of laughter. Natasha glared at him and looked at the tracker.

"Havana Club?" She read aloud. Bucky looked up in shock, then continued snickering as Natasha grabbed his hand and led him down the road. "It'll be a couple minutes walking but even more if I have to break your leg in order to get you to stop laughing." She smirked as he stopped and walked quietly alongside her.

"Why did I even agree to come along with you. He's so annoying." Bucky grumbled."Besides, if this is one of your attempts to make us bond, it ain't gonna work." As they continued to argue, Jarvis alerted from the tracker that they have reached the club.

"We'll continue discussing this when Steve is with us again and you are in a better mood." Natasha reprimanded as she walked into the dark club. Lights strobed everywhere and bodies danced and grinded to the pulsing beat. Bucky and Natasha looked around, their eyes finally landing on a dark haired individual.

"Maybe he's seen Steve." Natasha said. "Wouldn't hurt to ask. Besides he can out of the hotel that Steve was staying in so maybe he saw him." Bucky sighed and motioned to Natasha.

"Go do your work. I'll be waiting right here." He leaned heavily against the wall, sighing heavily.

Where is Steve?