Chapter Text
“Kitty!” Nick Fury greeted you as you entered his office.
0440 and you were expecting to beat him to his desk at this early hour.
“Good morning Nick,” you smiled fondly, placing his coffee down onto his desk. “You’re in early. Did you get home at all?”
One eye shot towards you.
“Thought I’d get ahead of the day” He muttered, returning to the file he was reading.
You hummed in reply.
“You should have told me you were heading in, I could have been here.”
“I figured at least one of us deserves a night of sleep.” He took a sip of his coffee, making a pleased sound.
“Are you hungry? Can I get breakfast ordered?” You asked.
You watched Nick Fury not react at all, which meant he was considering it.
“Actually, I need to talk to you about a new assignment.”
“A new assignment?” You repeated as confusion clouded your thoughts.
A new assignment?
For him or for you?
You were his executive assistant.
How were you supposed to personally assist him if there was a new assignment.
“It’s a short term contract, maybe 6 months.” Fury sighed, sitting back in his chair.
An assignment for you then.
“Have I done something to upset you?” You half joked.
“This isn’t a termination of your contract.” He added quickly. “I wouldn’t share you with just anyone.”
Share?
“Share?” You heard yourself repeat him. “I’m being reassigned?”
Nick Fury took another long drag of his coffee as he regarded you.
He sighed with satisfaction before he continued.
“With your permission, I want you to assist Captain Rogers.”
You blinked in surprise.
Captain Rogers
The newly reanimated icon of United States Security?
He had been the source of much hustle and bustle this week when he was discovered in the ice of the arctic.
What had been a historical discovery had quickly turned into a medical rescue mission upon realisation that Captain Rogers was still barely alive some 70 years since he went missing in action.
The past few days had been a flurry of activity as you waited to see how he would handle regaining consciousness in this modern world.
The conundrum was how to tell him he had been asleep for 70 years.
Elaborate meetings had been held as the higher ups tried to figure out how to help him accept his surroundings.
You had been assigned to style the Agent who would greet him first into a 1940s regalia.
She would help set the tone as the first person he would talk to upon reanimating.
Hopefully she could make first impressions count.
You had tried your best to warn him.
It was easy to make sure her long hair was down and unprofessionally modern in comparison to the 1940s.
Next you had given her a modern uniform.
An ill fitting bra had been her own, but it had added to the masculine shirt and bad tie that simply wouldn’t have been worn that way.
Captain Rogers would identify the problems quickly.
Quicker than the stupid Dodgers game Fury insisted on playing.
Women always got the job done quicker.
The Agent had told you he took a grand 10 seconds of looking her up and down to know he wasn’t where he had left.
Admittedly the running into Times Square had been unfortunate, but that was the carpenters fault for not building a set to withstand a super soldier.
Fury placed down the file he was reading.
“We got him settled into accommodation last night, but he’s understandably rattled.”
“As anyone would be.” You agreed.
“He’s in over his head. We are in over our head. He needs support and a quick transition into this time. I know you’ll be able to assist him.”
If Nick Fury was a smiling man he would be smiling encouragingly at you.
“Okay.” You accepted his non offer.
“Great.” Nick nodded, opening up his desk drawer. “If I order you a car could you start today? I imagine he’s gonna be hungry after all this time. He refused dinner last night.”
“I’ll head straight over… but what about you?” You asked surprised.
“I’m a big boy, I’ll survive.” He held out a key to Captain Rogers' apartment. “He needs you more than I do. ”
“Ring me if you need me?” You began to step backwards.
“I always do Kitty.” Nick took another sip of his coffee as he picked up the files he had been reading.
-
The car Fury had organised pulled up to a Brooklyn brownstone, making you roll your eyes.
Captain Rogers humble beginnings wouldn’t have afforded him a brownstone in Brooklyn, even all those years ago.
No wonder the man was rattled.
Running up the steps you checked the time.
0600.
The bag of eggs, milk and bread swung at your wrist as you jumbled the two coffees you’d picked up into your other hand.
You could only expect Captain Rogers would be awake at this hour.
He was a military man after all.
What you didn't expect when you approached the apartment with the shrill bleating of a smoke alarm.
Fumbling for the key Fury had provided, you swore. You hadn't wanted to barge in, you had wanted to politely knock and introduce yourself. Instead you entered the apartment and made a beeline for the kitchen.
Through the smog you could see the hulking frame of Captain Rogers sat on the floor, he had folded himself in, with eyes closed and his hands over his ears as the alarm screeched.
His microwave was still smoking, the door wide open showing a bowl of sludge, alongside a spoon and a lot of scorch marks.
You managed to open the kitchen windows wide before sourcing a dish cloth to flap at the fire alarm, eventually dispersing the smoke enough for the fire alarm to stop.
Captain Rogers had opened his eyes to watch, slowly lowering his hands.
"Thank you ma'am," he mumbled as his ears flushed pink.
"Are you hurt?" You asked, leaning down to his level. He shook his head.
"Only my pride." He mumbled.
You smiled back.
"Okay, that we can work with." You smiled, “my name is Kitty.”
You introduced yourself to him with a hand shake.
“Hello Kitty.” Captain Rogers remained solemn. “Steve Rogers.”
"Director Fury has let you borrow me as your Personal Assistant. I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier."
Captain Rogers blinked in surprise.
"Personal Assistant?" He repeated
"For any questions you may have, whilst you get used to our time," you nodded, "Come sit at the table, was that Oatmeal I see in the microwave?"
The Captain gingerly got to his feet, dwarfing you with his size.
"Yes ma'am, I didn't understand how to work the stove… it doesn’t have dials.” He stared at the mess as you threw the bowl into the sink, filling it with water.
“Ah yes, they are touch screen now.” You noticed. “You’ve used a microwave before?”
“I tried… but it sparked up and exploded." He explained.
You were already exploring his cupboards for the box of oats, you found a new bowl and a saucepan to pour them into before finding a carton of milk to mix.
"That’ll be the spoon. Microwaves can't have metal inside them." You explained
"Oh." He sat quietly as you placed the saucepan down.
"Now I'm not 100% but oh there we are, see this section? Press it and the hob will light up when it's on," You smiled back to the Captain who was nodding along. "Perhaps we could request a gas hob for you? Just whilst you're finding your feet?"
"Oh I don't want to be an inconvenience." He dismissed.
“Captain Rogers, you are an icon.” You snorted, “Be as inconvenient as you can.”
Returning to the bag of shopping you’d brought with you, you began to pack the milk and eggs into the fridge.
You placed the bread in the cupboard up with the oats.
“You brought food.” he commented.
“Just some basics, to get you started.” You answered, turning back to him. “Do you cook?”
“I did… a little.” He replied.
You caught sight of the coffees you’d purchased.
“Oh! I got you a black coffee, would you like to add milk?” You darted forward, removing his from the punnet before you moved yours out the way.
“No thank you ma’am.” He stared at the cup from all angles, but he didn’t reach out to touch it.
You noticed he was wearing the same T-shirt from the day before.
Would it be a good idea to take him out in public today?
You could get him some supplies.
Food.
Clothes.
A phone.
He would need money.
A bank account.
A decent lawyer.
Could you reactivate old social security numbers?
How long had Fury organised this apartment?
He needed a space he could relax in.
He needed a home.
You poured the fluffy oatmeal into the bowl as you remembered you had a sachet of honey in your handbag.
Plain oatmeal might be reminiscent of the Great Depression but Captain Rogers deserved a little sweetness in this new life he had been given.
“Honey?” You asked, holding out the sachet.
He frowned down at it, but accepted it slowly.
“Doesn’t honey come in a jar anymore?” He asked quietly as he ripped it open, squeezing into the bowl.
“It does.” You confirmed as you sat down opposite him. You watched his shoulders relax a little. “Maybe we could go to a store and take a look around. Grab some supplies if you like.”
Captain Rogers stirred his oatmeal, milling over your suggestion.
“Or not.” You shrugged. “There is no rush. We could go take a walk round Central Park today. Get reacquainted.”
He took a bite of his oatmeal.
“Or we can stay here and just exist.” You gave him a soft smile. “You don’t have to do anything if you're not ready to.”
“I think I'd like to walk around today… if that’s okay?” He asked.
“That’s perfectly fine.” You agreed. “You do have a jacket don’t you?”
“No ma’am.” Captain Rogers sighed. “I’ve just got what they put me in… I woke up without my suit.”
“Your suit?”
“I wore it for missions. I woulda been wearing it when....” Captain Rogers tapered off.
“When they found you?” you suggested.
Captain Rogers nodded.
You took out your phone.
“Okay. First I’m going to find out where they took your suit and make sure that gets returned immediately.” You began to draft an email. “Next I suggest we run a few errands this morning, then I’ll take you for lunch so we can have a relaxing afternoon. We can walk to a department store and grab you a jacket. Maybe a few shirts, pants and some comfortable clothes for exercise and lounging.”
“Lounging?” Steve repeated,
“The modern age loves to lounge Captain Rogers,” you sent off your email before you looked back to him.
Captain Rogers was staring at your phone.
“That’s a communication device?” He asked.
“Yes, a telephone with multiple features.” You held it out to him. “It takes calls, messages, has a camera, it can even play music.”
Captain Rogers looked stunned.
“Wow.”
“I think we should probably get you one of these.” You mentally added to your list.
“I uh… I don’t think I have funds to purchase…” Captain Rogers began to stumble.
“I do, at least, SHIELD does. We can sort everything whilst you get back on your feet.”
Steve swallowed down another spoon of oatmeal.
“You said your name was Kitty?” He asked.
“Yes Captain Rogers.” You replied easily.
“Please, call me Steve,” he requested.
You gave him a smile.
“Thank you Kitty, for your help this morning.”
“You’re most welcome Steve. This is going to be overwhelming, but you and I are going to straighten everything out okay?” You promised.
Captain Steve Rogers nodded slowly, before he finally gave you a smile.