New Neighbor

[on_ur_left]

It started with scuffles and faint thumping through the walls. It was a nice apartment, but Steve had pretty good hearing (understatement, that), and he knew the apartment beside his was empty, so it was—

Unusual.

Curious.

No one had ever blamed Steve of not being curious. The opposite had been said plenty of times, though, along with the requisite saying about cats.

Steve swept his pencil along his paper a couple more times, lips pursed, until there was an almost-audible-to-normal-ears thunk from the hallway.

Okay, he had to know. Setting his sketchbook and pencil down on the coffee table, Steve stood, absently brushing his hands down his legs to smooth out any wrinkles - despite currently wearing his 'around home' jogging pants, which didn't really do wrinkles. Force of habit.

Moving over to the door, he hesitated. Was it really any of his business? He'd lived in the 21st century for almost 2 years now, he understood that things were different. People kept to themselves more; yeah, you might greet your neighbor if you saw them, know them by name, but you didn't really stick your nose in anybody's business, unless they invited you to, first.

Still. He could go over and see if they needed help, whatever was going on.

Slowly, Steve pulled his door open, then stuck just his head out, before moving until half his body was out in the hall - if he was spotted, he didn't want to look like some disapproving asshole.

Comments

[theycalledmeacurse]

This had not gone at all according to plan. After spending a few years finding her footing in her new existence, living in various places and trying different professions, she'd somehow ended up with a position in DC, a good-paying job and a connection to get a space in a building that she would never be able to afford without the aforementioned job. Everything had fallen into place beautifully...

Until moving day arrived. A blustery fall day with a stormy morning that had jammed the roads, the van had gotten behind schedule, and in the end they'd arrived just in time to quickly unload before rushing off to another client on a very tight schedule. It was only because of how panicked the two men had looked that she'd agreed to the whole arrangement, which unfortunately left her with teetering piles of labeled boxed in her new living room and a whole heap of them piled up in the hallway outside her front door as well.

Those wayward boxes are what must have caught her neighbors attention, she thought to herself when the door opened and a stranger appeared. Clad in jeans, sneakers and a worn green hoodie, her hair pulled back in a now very messy ponytail, she looked a bit sheepish when she shot him an apologetic smile.

"I'm so sorry for the mess, sugar, I'll get it all-- contained as quick as I can, I promise." To prove her point, she grabs yet another box and heaves it into her arms.

[on_ur_left]

Getting his first glimpse of his new neighbor, Steve's first impression is 'pretty; unique hair color; harried and stressed.' He focused on the last, moving out fully into the hallway even while shaking his head and giving her a friendly, hopefully welcoming smile. "No, it's fine. Do... you want some help?"

In a tight-fitting grey-blue t-shirt and his grey track pants, Steve didn't really feel dressed enough to be around other people, but they were clothes comfortable enough to start moving items around, and he didn't have to worry about maybe getting them dirty or dusty.

"I'm pretty strong, if you need stuff moved around," he said, in a voice devoid of pride; just stating a fact. Understating the truth, really, but it was obvious he had plenty of muscles, and he was at least a head taller than her. "Oh! Uh, sorry - Steve Rogers. Your— neighbor," he backtracked abashedly.

[theycalledmeacurse]

Lord, but her neighbor is a handsome one. It's unexpected, the way his appearance tries to take her breath away when she really looks -- though really, that could have been the dozen boxes she'd already moved before he popped out of his apartment. Handsome, polite, a real gentlemen if his offer of help is anything to go by. And those muscles sure don't look like they're just for show.

The name he gives makes her blink, the combination of that and a suddenly familiar face catching her rather off guard. You bet she knows who Steve Rogers is, there's no way she could avoid paying attention to this Earth's most popular superheroes. Lucky for him, she's not the fangirl type, and instead just smiles gratefully and replies, "I'm Rogue. Well, Marie, but most of my friends call me Rogue, it's kind of an old nickname."

It's automatic for her to try to shift the weight of her box long enough to hold out her hand to offer to shake his, but she doesn't quite get the balance right. One second she's upright and the next...

Timber.

[on_ur_left]

In that split second pause after Steve introduces himself, he wonders if she recognizes him, or his name; he doesn't meet many new people who don't work for SHIELD and thus already know him, so he doesn't even think about hiding his identity anymore. When he first woke up, he tried to stay off the radar as much as possible, but nowadays he's comfortable enough with the world, and the public are familiar enough with his story, that people tend to be a little more forgiving of his 'old fashioned ways' if they know who he is, so he just... doesn't sweat it too much.

If she does recognize him though, she's polite enough to not make a big deal about it, which he appreciates - if she even recognizes him.

He recognizes the automatic gesture of shifting to free a hand for a handshake - he'd almost reached out his own on instinct when introducing himself, but caught himself, not wanting her to feel obligated to shake his hand while both of hers were occupied. He sees the moment the weight goes off-balance, almost even before Rogue herself starts to tip forward, in what looks like an awkward attempt to catch the box.

Moving on instinct, Steve's quick reflexes have him reaching out one arm to catch the side of the box, pushing it back up and supporting its weight, while the other arm wraps around Rogue - which ends with her face bumping against his chest, and one arm wrapped around her shoulder and back.

"Are you okay?" He bites his tongue on the automatic 'careful' that wants to slip out of his mouth.

[theycalledmeacurse]

What a hero. Rogue clutches the box with the same security that Steve holds on to her, and she just stares up at him for a moment, no longer used to people actually doing this sort of thing. Anyone else who tried would have ended up in a heap on the floor with her, the box of ceramic mugs left to fall with a tinkling crash. Instead, that famed strength he possess is readily apparent and all she can do is grin brightly up at him.

"I'm just fine, sugar. Thanks to you."

[on_ur_left]

There's a second, which Steve is not proud of, but resigned to, where he just blinks down at Rogue's beaming face, his mouth just slightly slack-jawed. His estimation of 'pretty' bumps up to somewhere between 'gorgeous' and 'breathtaking', before he mentally shakes himself and snaps out of it, giving her a wry smile.

"Let me help you move some of this stuff inside," he says, pulling his arm away from her once he's sure she's got a secure grip on the box and has her balance back - and if his hand happens to slide along her back more than is probably strictly necessary... well, he could just say he didn't want to startle her by abruptly letting go. "More hands make quick work, and all that," he justifies.

Steve doesn't lie to himself, though, and he knows it's because he's attracted to her. Which is... Well. Probably not the best idea. It's not really a bad idea, per sé, but the few forays into dating that he's taken so far have shown him that it's notoriously hard to find someone he can connect with emotionally, regardless of physical attraction. So.

[theycalledmeacurse]

Once upon a time, Rogue would have recognized that look on Steve's face. The tells are there, she's seen them a hundred times before in the faces of boys and men who found themselves a little smitten with her, but those days are long past now. Even in her life in this world, she's been too focused on rebuilding herself to notice the attentions of others.

She's getting there, though. Another few looks like that, and she might actually put two and two together. For now, though, she simply takes pleasure in the feeling of his hand on her back, savoring each second as she rights herself again.

"That's real nice of you," she replies with a smile still in place, a hint of shyness around the edges of her expression, "and I'd really appreciate it, thank you."

[on_ur_left]

Knock it off, Rogers, he tells himself firmly, upon seeing that shyness creep in around the edges of her smile. She's your goddamned neighbor, an' prob'ly all by herself an' nervous. An' here you are makin' moon eyes at 'er. (Steve's accent liked to come out full-force in his head when he berated himself.)

"Sure, no problem," he replies with a smile. Crossing his arms, Steve pretends to seriously consider the boxes littering the hallway. "So, the real question is... which of these is the heaviest?" He pauses, before grinning slyly. "I won't ask which is the most fragile, although maybe I should," he adds, tossing her a teasing wink.

[theycalledmeacurse]

If she's nervous (she is), it's certainly not because she can't take care of herself (she can). She finds Steve attractive, and her every instinct is telling her that he's as much of a threat to her safety as a golden retriever puppy. To her heart, though? That's much more treacherous territory. Good thing she's not planning on going there.

Giggling in response to that adorable wink, she just shakes her head for a moment before pointing out a few boxes in particular. "Those probably count for both, since they're full of things for the kitchen. I already hauled all the books inside myself."

[on_ur_left]

Moving over to the boxes she indicated, Steve shakes his head a little bit, but bites his tongue on the words that want to come out, which are of course you did. It's partly an automatic response he would say to a friend, quick, teasing banter. And partly it's because despite seeming to be drawn to strong females even before that was really the norm, he's still perpetually surprised when women don't automatically ask for help, or wait for a man to come along and help them.

They're not particularly large boxes, so he stacks one on top of another before easily lifting them, careful to keep them held close to his torso. He can tell at least one is full of plates, the other probably more dishware and glasses, and for anyone else just one of the boxes would probably be at least semi-heavy, but he has no problem with them.

...he's pretty sure Dr. Erskine didn't give him the serum with 'glorified mover' in mind. But he's helping someone who needs it, and he's able to, which really kind of was why he got the serum, so he's okay with it.

[theycalledmeacurse]

The boxes he picks up are heavy, she'd packed them all herself, so she knows just how heavy they are when stacked like that. Yet he doesn't show even a hint of strain at the weight, proving all the hype to be completely true. He has superstrength, and it... makes her a bit nostalgic. A bit homesick for a world where she was surrounded by people like him.

Shaking off those feelings, she quickly grabs her own box and hurries past the rest of the pile to lead the way through the open door to her very bare apartment - save for the additional stacks of boxes and sheet-wrapped furniture. "Come on in, you can set those down anywhere."

Her own box is deposited on top of the small kitchen table.

[on_ur_left]

If it's human nature to be curious, then Steve has been naturally gifted with an abundance of human nature. So it was that he instinctively found himself glancing around the apartment; it wasn't that dissimilar from his own, or at least what his had been when he'd first moved in; bare windows, bare walls, carpet in the living area and tile in the kitchen. Furniture was already delivered, but left mostly in the middle of the floor.

Placing the boxes on the counter, he carefully unstacked them to be set side by side, less likely to fall over and shatter their contents that way. "You need any help setting up your furniture?" he asked. "Not-- I don't mean to be nosy, or butt in where I'm not wanted. Just... offering, if you want it, later."

[theycalledmeacurse]

The furniture is all simple in design, IKEA quality without the modern lines. All of it had been purchased new over a number of years, slowly replacing the second-hand pieces she'd previously used, with the only remainder being the table. It was old and looked like something left over from the 1950s - she liked its character.

"No, that'd be great actually, thank you," she responded with a smile and a shake of her head. "I was a bit worried about it actually - the last time I put together my bed, I almost pulled a muscle."