For Asgard!

Steve was lost to the past for a long moment, remembering not only the months he had destroyed bag after bag in his attempts to exorcise something of the frustration that had crawled through him with every idle breath, but the weeks he and Bucky had spent training together. Before the Serum, before his five attempts at enlistment, even, Bucky had agreed to teach him to box, train him to run without collapsing under the weight of his own lungs, all in the desire for the two of them to enlist and serve together. He had run the gauntlet of all the recruiters had asked of him with those weeks beat into his muscles, bone and sinew, and still been left with 4F emblazoned on every attempt.

He was pulled back to the present, and with no little embarrassment for his lapse, by the sound of the woman’s voice. That the woman, now the he actually looked at her and not blankly in her direction, was the sort of dame that made putting his foot in his mouth a distinct possibility with every passing second, did nothing to lessen his embarrassment. But, still, he shook his head, telling her “I understand how that goes, believe me” and giving her what he hoped was a friendly smile and not one that shouted how much like a fool he was feeling at that exact moment.

“Thanks,” and with a breath, he loosened the stiffness of his shoulders, finding that the curiosity over how she was able to send a weight bag flying like she did was stronger than any momentary embarrassment he felt as he walked towards her, lifting a hand in greeting. “That was pretty impressive, yourself. Steve Rogers.”