May 2017

S M T W T F S
 123456
78910111213
14151617181920
21222324252627
28293031   

Tags

Powered by InsaneJournal

February 22nd, 2015


[info]slepttoolong in [info]we_coexist

Familiar Circumstances... [OPEN]

There was unfamiliar playing on the radio. Steve could hear it before he opened his eyes. There was a gentle commotion of traffic through the window, and a faint spring breeze running through the air. He could smell the scent of flowers, of ozone and carbonation, of the sea. It was an interesting mixture. The sheets under his skin were crisp and clean, though softer than he would have expected. Steve had been a soldier for long enough that the additional comfort was unexpected.

Eyes opened, and he could see sunlight pouring in from a window, cracked open just enough to allow the slight breeze. He didn't recognize the shapes of the building through the glass, but the very fact that there were buildings had him sitting up in bed before he knew it. Other sensory information flooded his eyes, categorized and assessed before conscious thought, and he knew he was in no danger. Only displaced.

Again.

Steve let out a sigh, and looked around. The room was much like the one he had been using in Washington DC, near the SHIELD headquarters he worked out of. Not quite Spartan in it's utility, but there were few marks of personality on it. It was a room for sleep, for meditation, not for living. He hadn't done much to leave an imprint in that room, and it's copy was reflected here.

His clothes were familiar enough - a plain white t-shirt with plain boxers. He got up from the unremarkable bed and found clothing that suited his taste in the unremarkable dresser and closet. Jeans, cotton, and leather. Something that appealed to his 1940's mentality, without being vastly out of place in the high-tech world he'd found himself in.

He didn't pay much attention to the rest of the apartment, only giving it a casual looking-over that raised more questions. Was he back in DC? SHIELD couldn't have set this up - SHIELD was no more. Despite the feeling that he was in no danger, Steve didn't like the way the apartment and the room were presented - they felt like a gift, inexplicable and sudden, and Steve didn't trust this kind of good fortune. There were always price tags. SHIELD had made him wary of such things.

He absently noted the apartment number as he locked the door behind him (number 14), as well as the name of the building as he left (Agreeable Apartments). Parked on the street, to his surprise, was his motorcycle. Frowning, Steve checked the pockets of his leather coat. He'd only noticed the single apartment key when he'd left, but now there was another key on the simple keychain that also bore his surname - the key to the bike.

He stopped, stared at the keys in his hand, and looked back at the motorcycle. Then raised a hand to his temples and began to fight back the headache brewing behind the storm of questions building in his mind.