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]

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."