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Steve Rogers was a long way from home. It had been even longer since he’d had a drink and it wasn’t like he could really get drunk anyway. But for some reason he was sitting in a little pub with a pint and listening to unfamiliar accents as servicemen babbled all around him. There were dames in the pub, yeah, but none that were as pretty as Peggy and the last time he’d kissed another girl that hadn’t gone all that well. Really, he didn’t know why he was out at all, except that he was sick of his bunk and tired of the war and he really really wished he could get drunk.
“Hey soldier, you look a little lonesome.”
Steve looked up, the American accent catching him a little off guard. “Uh, no, not really.” His eyes narrowed, taking in the man sitting at the bar next to him, a dark haired blue eyed man in an RAF uniform.
“How did an American get an RAF uniform?” He asked, bluntly curious.
The stranger grinned at him, and wasn’t that something. Steve was certainly not blushing, no of course not. Not blushing even a little bit.
“Name’s Captain Jack Harkness, and if I tell you will you let me buy you a drink?”
Steve shrugged. He knew better than to pass up a free drink, even if the pint was nothing like what he was used to. And he had to admit it, he was feeling bored and wishing he was home and that was quite enough of that train of thought.
“Sure, as long as you don’t expect me to take you home afterward.” Steve said, and tapped the bar.
The stranger-Captain Jack Harkness apparently-grinned and leaned close to his ear. “Nah, I thought I’d bring you back to mine, better than your barracks I’m sure.”
Later when Steve thought of those few months it was with a mixture of incredulity, lust, and regret. Men did things in wartime they weren't proud of, and no one had been hurt, and Jack had seemed a good enough guy if surprisingly more well-versed in things than Steve was. And if he looked at his pocket watch, the one that had Jack’s picture in it, a little more often than was strictly necessary... well no one could blame him.
Sometimes, after he woke up from the ice and after Loki and the Chitauri and falling into bed with Tony that first time, he thought about Jack. He regretted missing his date with Peggy, he did. But he’d meant to look Jack up after and sometimes the might-have-beens were a little more worrisome than he admitted to himself. But he would curl himself around Tony at night-when he bothered to come to bed anyway-and watch the play of the arc reactor’s light against the wall and remind himself that this was here and now and he couldn’t bring the past back from the dead.
Except Jack Harkness had never learned how to stay dead.
They were investigating reports of some alien threat or another in a warehouse in Cardiff-of all places-and had run smack into another group investigating the same thing. Coulson had mentioned the possibility of local backup but hadn’t thought they’d have enough hands or something to deal with the threat and they owed someone in British government a favor anyway. And that is how Steve Rogers found himself being introduced to a team who called themselves Torchwood and a smirking Captain Jack Harkness.
“So,” Tony said later on, when they’d all traipsed down to the underground base that Jack called “the hub” and the tall dark haired man in a suit had gotten them all coffee; black with sugar for Natasha, double cream and double sugar for Clint, black for himself and Tony and herbal tea for Bruce.
“You two have met before?”
Steve could feel the blush start and glowered at Tony who seemed to be enjoying himself far too much.
Jack, for his part, grinned. “You could say that. Cap and I met during the war. You’ve hardly aged a day, Captain.”
“I could say the same for you, Captain.” Steve said, with a little more emphasis on the word captain than he’d intended.
Jack shrugged and pretended not to notice, but the one who’d gotten the tea-Steve thought his name was Ian or something-gave them both a look and sighed.
“Really, Jack?”
Jack turned to him and grinned even more widely. “You can hardly be jealous of an affair I had before your parents were even born, you know, Ianto.”
Ianto rolled his eyes and took a sip of coffee. “Mmm.”
Tony laughed. “Jack, you might have mentioned sleeping with Captain America that time-”
Jack cut him off and Steve could not believe this was happening.
“As I recall, we didn’t do too much talking, we were in a cloakroom at the Royal Opera House at the time and I believe you were the one who couldn’t keep his mouth shut.”
Tony tapped a finger in Jack’s direction. “Point. So, this has been swell, but I’m sure there are bad guys to capture elsewhere. How many alien invasions does Wales have anyway?”
“You’d be surprised.” Ianto murmured over his coffee cup.