WHO: Steve Rogers (AU), Natasha Romanoff WHEN: Shortly after his arrival WHERE: FN Resettlement Bureau WHAT: Steve wants a job. Natasha has a caveat. TRIGGERS: None that I can see, but if you do, let me know and I'll fix it.
______________
Steve didn’t have much in the ways of clothes yet. He’d thought about wearing the uniform he’d arrived in. It was the most presentable clothing that he had, and he wasn’t the kind of person to complain about the heat, even if it risked making breathing difficult. Steve had a habit of pushing through just to show that he could.
But in the end, the uniform didn’t carry much authority these days. He wore a nice pair of slacks, button up shirt and tie. The shoes still fit at least, shoes were sometimes harder to come by. It seemed wrong that he wasn’t wearing a jacket, disrespectful at least, but then no one seemed to wear jackets in Texas in the middle of the summer.
It was still early after posting on the network. Rogers was impressed with how readily available some things were like coffee and red meat. The icebox in Peggy and Jarvis’s home had been well stocked. He drank a cup, finished a few replies, and then headed over to the base on foot where he presented himself with a gentle but firm, “Steve Rogers. Just tell where I can be of service.”
It wasn't uncommon for for Natasha to walk the halls of the base, checking on the portal, the science team, or the littlest Maria Hill. She'd just begun to miss James when two different Steves arrived. One knew her, the other… was not at all how she remembered him. Small, sickly, but still the same old Steve mentally. She wondered how much that would throw James; she wasn't even thinking about her own mental state when he showed up.
"Let's see what you've got."
The tie might have gotten an eyebrow raise from anyone else, but Natasha kept her amusement to herself. She put a hand on her hip, putting weight on that particular leg, then twirled her finger, indicating that he — you got it — turn in place.
Steve blinked. He looked from side to side as if there might be someone else Natasha was asking to twirl. “Ma’am?”
He knew this was Natasha, and that she was dating one of the Buckys -- Steve refused to think of them as One or Two -- but he didn’t know a lot more about her, except that she had worked for SHIELD. “I know I may not look like much, but I’ve got it where it counts. I’d be happy to speak to my qualifications and experience.”
His posture was straight, though he was not quite standing at attention. At his size, Steve had perfected being extra stubborn and extra serious in order to be taken seriously himself. At the fort, where he could help people, he needed to prove himself to the people he didn’t know yet.
This Steve didn't tease back, and there was a tiny part of Natasha that pinged as if something broke. This was Steve when he was trying to prove himself, and while the Steve he knew was always trying to prove himself, this one was uncertain. The lack of confidence is what did it.
Natasha dropped the idea of teasing him all together, favoring honesty. Steve could appreciate that; he always had. She smiled, one corner of her mouth crooking upward. "I was only teasing, but I'm going to have to ask you to never, ever call me Ma'am again. Absolutely no version of Steve Rogers is allowed to call me Ma'am. It's Natasha, and any Steve is a friend of mine."
She gestured for him to follow her, leading him to to her office. "I know most of your qualifications, and I can speak to the quality of person you are." Natasha moved to stand behind her desk. There was nothing special about it, just your normal office space. No personal photos or knick knacks. Just paperwork and a Stark-made computer which put it worlds above anything else on this planet. "What kind of job are you looking for?"
“Wherever you’ll have me,” Steve said. “All of us are in this situation together, and anything I can do to assist, whether it’s providing security or logistical support, count me in.”
There had been a ma’am somewhere in that speech originally, but Steve went against all of his upbringing to shelve it. At least he was a quick learner. If he noticed the lack of personalization in the office, his eyes certainly glanced around the room taking it in briefly, he said nothing about it.
She made a few beeps and boops on her screen, bringing up schedules and where the holes were among their portal guards. They had a lot of scientists to study the portal, but they were sorely needing portal guards. At this rate, she might have to stretch some of these shifts out. Six hours standing around, waiting for something to happen, was a long time.
The screen turned to face Steve so that he could see it. "We've got administration, portal guards, documentation… something tells me you don't want anything in documentation." There was that tiny smile again. It wasn't often that Natasha was able to look Steve Rogers in the eye without having to crane her neck. "Administration is second hand to some of the higher ups. None of us having any assistants, but could use them."
She paused, placing her hands palm down on the desk. "So tell me, where do you wanna go?"
Steve thought about it. Administration was probably closer to the type of work he was doing before the war, providing logistical support to Peggy and the Commandos during the war, but he saw the holes in portal guard duty, which firmly made up his mind.
“It looks like you could use some more guards. You can put me in for whatever shifts you need.”
She had heart and spirit, and Natasha knew that he would give it his all. She also knew that this version of Steve had a list of health problems kilometers long. He was one hundred pounds soaking wet, and not everyone who came through that portal was able to be talked down, as much as either Steve Rogers would hope.
"Not everything through that portal is cuddly." She paused. "What kind of combat training do you have? Any fighting skills?"
Steve gave an affirmative nod. “Buck taught me the basics before … basic training. I know how to throw a punch but I’m proficient with firearms as well.”
Steve didn’t need to be told he didn’t really have the size or power to punch someone very effectively. He knew that. From plenty of personal experience. It never stopped him from getting into scraps anyway. It some ways it just made it worse.
“If something unfriendly comes through, my number one priority will be to alert the base and do my best to contain the danger.”
"If I put you on portal duty, I expect a few hours every day with me, working on tactics and take-downs for light-weights like you and me. You can take out guys much bigger than us if you utilize certain strengths." It was precaution, of course. A taser or tranq gun would work a lot better. "People like you and me don't do anything like the big guys, and that means people always underestimate us."
Steve nodded. He’d never actually had training from someone closer to his own size, only people who knew how to teach to someone bigger. “I appreciate you making the time for me, ma— Natasha.”
At least he caught himself. Some habits were hard to break. “I promise I won’t waste your time.”