Till time tear us apart

Shit just hit the fan

Well, there probably is a logical reason for why she seems to be trapped inside the body of this "Steve" somewhere in the 40s.

Who is she kidding? There is nothing logical in this!

God, did she sound so much like Spock just right now...

But again there is no way to mistake it. The moment she opened that door, and made her way through the old building to the street, she found herself on another world. Actually, it wasn't that different but the people, the cars, and even some of the more ugly looking boulding were some of the most glaring signs that something definitely wrong; from the way she received stares of disapproval (what? Never seen someone on PJ's before?) to the obvious absence of some of the most familiar skyscrapers on the Manhattan island. What was she doing in New York anyway? Last time she checked it was Boston outside her window. Her dorm's window, to which she didn't head to after getting it on with some hot guy in a bar.

Shocked, and in need of some familiar ground, she made her way back to the building, and then inside the tiny apartment, closing the door behind her with a sigh.

Maybe she was dreaming, it had to be it. She let out a nervous laugh.

"Yeah, this is just dreaming. I will wake up and Rhody will give me hell for disappearing again." There it was again, her voice was different and that made her frown. She gave a experimental try to clearing her throat and singing out loud some letters, with the same result. She sounded male, and wasn't that a scary revelation?

Next she looked down to her hands only to note that they were pale and clearly not hers. Then she began to explore with those foreign hands the expansion of her chest, expecting something else than the flatness that meet her. In panic, she took a hand to her intimate parts and found a dick hanging where there shouldn't be one.

"Rhody! This is not funny!" She called out to her friend, expecting him to came out laughing at any time now. "How are you doing this? Where is the camera?" With that in mind she started to wreck-up the place in search of cameras or any other thing that might help bring some sense into all of this. But even after moving some furniture and throwing books to the floor she came up empty handed and gasping for air, she, well, Steve was exhausted. The place was clean, and though that was a good thing (she doesn't want this to make it to the internet) it was also pretty discomforting.

With a sigh she gave up and let herself fall down on a chair. It should be too early to have a breakdown like this, but at the end when you have already excluded the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. She so just wanted to punch Sherlock Holmes in the face right now.

Her, his, stomach grumbled, and only then she remembered the breakfast the other guy promised to leave in the kitchen.

Maybe after some coffee, and an aspirin, she will be able to think clearly again.

                                                                     ***

The moment he stepped out of bed he was one hundred percent sure that this was not his body. He tried not to look, but it was difficult when she was naked and the mirror wasn't that far enough for him to ignore it.

The dame was beautiful, the kind of woman he would never dream of having a chance with. He gave some tentative looks to her form before flustering too much and just concentrating on her face out of curiosity. He haven't seen her before, and that thought calmed him because at least he didn't switch places with someone he knows, still, breaking someone's privacy wasn't better.

But he can't help but look into those big dark chocolate eyes framed by long black eyelashes, her hair was a mess of dark brown waves and her face a work of art. He was itching for his art supplies, wanting to remember such beauty in case he wakes up. Because this is a dream, isn't?

Steve startled at the sudden noise of music, loud and harsh, nothing he was familiar with. He looked around the room with fright and as the sound persisted he began the search for its source. It took him a moment to realize it was coming from a little black thing that shined and showed the letters "Incoming call, Jimmy Rhodes." It went completely dark, the noise stopping, and then it started all over again.

After some indecision he picked it up on his hands, and, still confused, pressed what seemed to be a green button.

"Toni! Where the hell are you?!"

The voice came out of the strange device, and he dropped it to the floor in surprise.

"Toni... I swear, if you are not back in your dorm by the time I get there I will have to hunt down that guy Reed so he could help me track your cell phone."

It was still talking, Steve was so scared that he just turned and took big steps to the door.

"What? You got nothing to say?"

He didn't listened to the rest and closed the door behind him, letting out a sigh of relief, and after calming down his heart he curiously looked around. He didn't notice it it at first but this probably is the most expensive house he has ever been in, or so it seemed. Everything was weird and shiny, completely different to what he is used to.

Remembering the softness of the bed he blushed a furious red.

Obviously the activities that had trespassed on that room weren't any of his business, still he feel violated somehow. Maybe it was the kiss, which in his current body made sense but it didn't mean he was happy with it. Either way, nothing really made sense so he tried not to think on it and instead evaluated what to do next. The sight of clothes making a trail in the living room was his answer.