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He turns on his side, eyes slowly opening as he rolls his shoulders. The comfort of sleep’s starting to wear off, and as Steve wakes, he feels the large space of empty right next to him. He’s dreamt of waking up next to Peggy, kissing her slowly, waking her up to welcome the new day, but that’s all it is; a dream. He hasn’t had many dates, with the few of them merely interested in the novelty of being the Captain America’s date. Steve Rogers hasn’t had much luck in terms of love, and truth be told, he’s lonely.
Looking away from the empty spot, he walks over to the gramophone, a little something Tony managed to get for him to keep the 40s alive, along with a whole collection of music, his type of music. Steve can’t help but be impressed at the diversity of the compiled records available, silently commending Tony for his choices. “Bing Crosby, Bob Wills, Glenn Miller...never thought I’d see these names again,” he says to himself, picking out a particular record he hasn’t listened to in a while, smiling to himself as he walks over to the gramophone.
He flips the record a few times between his fingers and loads the gramophone with practiced ease before flopping face down into the bed as he waits for the music to fill the room entirely. Closing his eyes, he stretches slightly, suppressing a yawn as he relaxes into the soft covers.
“Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream, make him the cutest that I’ve ever seen.
Give him two lips like roses and clover, then tell him that his lonesome nights are over.”
Lonesome. That pretty much described him perfectly. And Thor. They were both strangers in a strange place, with Steve waking up to a new, but old world, embracing the things that were thought as impossible. In example, Tony’s repulsor technology was (quite evidently) working beautifully, when his father’s demonstration on that car lasted him…a good 10 seconds. Thor however…
Thor was just foreign, most of the things here must have confused, if not enthralled him. Magic was common in Asgard and it would accomplish feats that man couldn’t even dream of realizing, but electricity and the inventions of the television, the telephone, the printing press, those were hallmarks of mankind. He remembered the first time Thor saw a television, and how Clint was just browsing about on the Internet lazily, in sheer fascination over something the others regarded as perfectly normal. An archive of the lore and genealogy of the generations without the parchment, and a box of entertainment that does not require an actual person. He was just out of place. Out of all of them, Thor was the strange one, joining them when he belonged to a world of grandeur and magic. While Thor was not against the idea of staying in – what did he call it – Midgard for a while, he had, on many occasions, slipped into his traditional Asgardian methods and getting teased slightly for it.
“Give him the word that I’m not a rover, then tell him that his lonesome nights are over.”
He’d seen Thor on occasion, just sitting near the windows of the Avengers’ Tower, looking outside and taking in whatever the view was. Rainy, sunshine, day, night. He’d just sit there and look out, usually with a blank expression on his face, fiddling with the leather strap on Mjolnir. On certain days, he’d look sad, homesick, lonely. It was Fury’s policy for the Avengers to not leave the Tower for reasons other than business, keeping away from the public eye as much as possible. At first, Steve felt restrained, wanting to explore this new world he had no choice but to stay in, but soon, he felt that this Tower was his new home. Not the world out there, where there was no one waiting for him to come home, or at least, not anymore.
But Thor – Thor had a family back in Asgard. He had friends, he was a soon-to-be-King, and here he was, stuck in a foreign world in a metal tower where the status and power he celebrated before was disregarded.
“Mr. Sandman, bring us a dream. Give him a pair of eyes with a come-hither gleam, give him a lonely heart like Pagliacci,”
“Captain Rogers?” Steve’s eyes fly open, jolting up from his position on the bed, smacking Thor on his forehead who stumbles slightly, a hand darting to his forehead while Steve clutches the back of his head, resting his forehead on the pillow as he groans quietly.
“And lots of wavy hair like Liberace.”
Steve turns around, still rubbing the back of his head, the music of the record still playing as he swings his legs over the side of the bed to face Thor. Everything about Thor was dynamic. Thor’s long, messy but strangely attractive hair compared to his short and neat military-issued cut. His eyes, a piercing, almost electric blue in comparison to Steve’s slightly muted, ocean blue eyes. It could’ve been his physique. Needless to say, he was what he’d heard Clint describe as ripped, and he looked good in almost…anything.
“I am sorry I startled you, Captain Rogers, but when you did not respond to the knocks on the door I thought something had happened,” he’s still rubbing his forehead with his palm, laughing his ever-brilliant smile, “so I let myself in.” Steve shakes his head, the pain wearing off quickly, feeling Thor’s smile act as a remedy for the pain, and returns it with what he hopes is warmth and not creepiness.
“Mr. Sandman, someone to hold,” Thor turns his head to look at the gramophone with great curiosity, watching the record spin while Steve pulls a shirt over his head, “would be so peachy before we’re too old.”
“Who is this Sandman?” Thor says before turning to the box of records next to the machine, looking at the records with mild interest, “and this form of music seems different from what the others listen to.”
“Is that bad though? That my style’s a little different?”
Thor shrugged, flipping the casing of the record over to look at the title of the song. “Midgardian music is certainly different from the type I enjoyed in Asgard, and while this is different, it is not necessarily bad. Your style is unique, slightly different from the others but it is very, as Agent Barton puts it, you.”
“So please turn on your magic beam,” Steve looks at the gramophone and back at Thor, and he can’t help but smile and walk next to Thor, picking out another record for him to listen to, “please, please, please-“
“Mr. Sandman, bring us a dream.” Steve sings in time to the end of the song, smiling while he looks at Thor directly, much to his own and Thor’s amusement. As the song ends, Steve sidles up next to him to pick out the next record, his hand resting oh-so-close to Thor’s. “Ever listened to Bing Crosby’s ‘Be Careful, It’s My Heart’?”