A SEMI-TALL MAN IS JOGGING around the larger fountain outside of the Lincoln memorial inside Washington D.C. The man, his skin dark and glistening in the sun, was a veteran who was just going on with his daily job when a larger man with blond hair and a well-defined muscle-tone ran past him. "On your left." The man shouts, his voice even and full of humour. The black man barely reacts, still continuing on with the lap he was doing when the blond runs past again. "On your left." He repeats.
This time the black man glances over as he speeds past, giving him a glare. "Uh-huh, on my left. Got it." He replies, slightly out of breath as he runs, his legs starting to shake under the strain as he attempts to finish the lap he was on. As he turns the corner, he sees the blond come up behind him again, having done another lap. He looks at him, slightly annoyed. "Don't say it! Don't you say it!" He shouts at him, his annoyance laced with a hint of laughter.
"On your left!" The blond calls after him before sprinting past, seemingly unaffected by the sheer amount of laps he had done.
"Come on!" The other man groans, getting angry at him before he tries to catch up to the blond, however he only achieves getting himself more tired out and only after a few seconds he's unable to carry on and stops to rest. He sits down by a tree, leaning back as he attempts to catch his breath.
"Need a medic?" A voice calls and he looks up and examines the blond, his mind finally putting the pieces together, realising who the man in front of him was.
He laughs before retorting; "I need a new set of lungs." He stands up slowly. "Dude, you just ran like 13 miles in 30 minutes."
"I guess I got a late start." The blond admits.
"Oh, really?" The man chuckles. "You should be ashamed of yourself." He bends forward slightly. "You should take another lap." A few seconds pass and hesitating, he says sarcastically; "did you just take it? I assumed you just took it."
"What unit you with?" The other man asks, looking at him, avoiding his question, knowing it was a joke.
"58, Pararescue." He recites. "But now I'm working down at the VA." He sticks his hand and the blond shakes it. "Sam Wilson."
"Steve Rogers." He replies.
Sam chuckles slightly, pointing to him. "Yeah I kind of put that together." He confesses. "Must have freaked you out coming home after the whole defrosting thing."
"It takes some getting used to." Steve admits. "It's good to meet you, Sam."
Just as Steve turns to leave Sam interrupts him and he turns back around. "It's your bed, right?" Sam questions.
"What's that?" Steve asks, confused about the question.
"Your bed –" Sam repeats, looking at Steve from head to toe. "– it's too soft." Steve looks at him with recognition. "When I was over there I'd sleep on the ground and use rock for pillows, like a caveman. Now I'm home, lying in my bed, and it's like…" His voice trails off.
"Lying on a marshmallow." Steve finishes for him and Sam nods, a small smile on his face. "Feel like I'm gonna sink right to the floor."
"How long?" Steve asks.
"Two tours." He answers. He looks at Steve, who doesn't reply. They glance at one another for a few moments. "You must miss the good old days, huh?" Sam chuckles, breaking the silence between them.
"Well, things aren't so bad." Steve admits, putting his hands in his pockets. "Food's a lot better, we used to boil everything. No polio is good. Internet, so helpful. I've been reading that a lot trying to catch up."
Sam raises a finger. "Marvin Gaye, 1972, 'Trouble Man' soundtrack." He tells Steve, looking up slightly. "Everything you've missed jammed into one album."
"I'll put it on the list." Steve tells him, before he gets out his small notebook and pen out and notes it down on his list. The list already has various other suggestions for Steve to get familiar with in order to reintegrate properly. It says: I Love Lucy (Television); Moon Landing; Berlin Wall (Up + Down) Steve Jobs (Apple); Disco; Thai Food; Star Wars/Trek; Nirvana (Band) and Rocky. Star Wars is the only one that had been crossed out at that moment in time, and Sam glances at it with a small smile.
Steve's phone dings and he picks it up, looking down at the message which reads 'Mission alert. Extraction imminent. Meet at the curb. :)' Steve glances back up at Sam and apologises saying; "Alright, Sam, duty calls. Thanks for the run." He hesitates for a moment. "If that's what you wanna call running."
"Oh, that's how it is?" Sam smiles.
"Oh, that's how it is." Steve agrees, walking towards the curb.
Sam laughs slightly. "Okay." He replies. "Any time you wanna stop by the VA, make me look awesome in front of the girl at the front desk, just let me know."
"I'll keep it in mind." Steve replies,
"Okay." Sam says.
Just then Natasha pulls up in her car by the curb and rolls down the window. She leans over it and looks at the two of them. "Hey, fellas." She greets. "Either one of you know where the Smithsonian is? I'm here to pick up a fossil."
"That's hilarious." Steve replied sarcastically. He then walks over to her car and gets in.
Sam gives Natasha and her car an appreciative look, standing close to it. "How you doing?" He asks, feeling slightly awkward.
"Hey." She says.
"Can't run everywhere." Steve reminds him, looking up at him.
"No, you can't." Sam agrees before he watches as Natasha quickly pulls away and drives off.