Steve recognized her comment as a reference, but not what it actually was. Unlike some other people, though, he knew she didn't toss out references for the sole purpose of confusing him; probably didn't even realize she'd done it. People who hadn't skipped 70 years often confused how old something 'old' really was. He still needed to learn so much, wanted to learn more, and he'd be glad to let her help him. He wanted that, but he wouldn't ask for it; he didn't want to bore her, or put a spotlight on the already-obvious fact that he was out of his depth at the moment.
The traffic was as bad today in the boroughs as it had been in the heart of Manhattan yesterday, thanks to almost everyone having off, and traveling somewhere to celebrate the holiday. Steve kept with the flow of traffic, for the most part (which almost never matched the actual speed limit), because they had a longer way to go this time, and he wanted to get them both there safely. He had the reflexes to avoid collisions, or jump off the bike if necessary to avoid serious injury, but he wasn't going to take any chance with Rogue, and frankly, he didn't trust 'Sunday drivers'.
Crossing the Brooklyn Bridge, seeing the water and the city spanning before them, Steve felt a surprising sense of homecoming. This was his small piece of the world, and bringing Rogue into it felt like the most natural thing, the right thing, to do.
It took them a while to reach the park, but at the same time seemed to happen all too soon; Steve found a spot to park the bike, and couldn't quash the small flare of disappointment at not having Rogue pressed against him anymore. It was comforting, in a way he wouldn't be able to easily explain to anyone else. It wasn't sexual, but it wasn't exactly platonic, either. It was intimate, and knowing that she trusted him made it even more-so.
But they had all day to be together, and he was looking forward to that, too, so Steve killed the engine, knocked the kickstand down, and waited for her to dismount.
here, have an introspective novel.
The traffic was as bad today in the boroughs as it had been in the heart of Manhattan yesterday, thanks to almost everyone having off, and traveling somewhere to celebrate the holiday. Steve kept with the flow of traffic, for the most part (which almost never matched the actual speed limit), because they had a longer way to go this time, and he wanted to get them both there safely. He had the reflexes to avoid collisions, or jump off the bike if necessary to avoid serious injury, but he wasn't going to take any chance with Rogue, and frankly, he didn't trust 'Sunday drivers'.
Crossing the Brooklyn Bridge, seeing the water and the city spanning before them, Steve felt a surprising sense of homecoming. This was his small piece of the world, and bringing Rogue into it felt like the most natural thing, the right thing, to do.
It took them a while to reach the park, but at the same time seemed to happen all too soon; Steve found a spot to park the bike, and couldn't quash the small flare of disappointment at not having Rogue pressed against him anymore. It was comforting, in a way he wouldn't be able to easily explain to anyone else. It wasn't sexual, but it wasn't exactly platonic, either. It was intimate, and knowing that she trusted him made it even more-so.
But they had all day to be together, and he was looking forward to that, too, so Steve killed the engine, knocked the kickstand down, and waited for her to dismount.