Steve Rogers/Captain America One Shots

Old-Fashioned

The lighting was dim in the crowded bar, the warm orangish glow bathed the establishment in a hue that whispered of it's intentions. It wasn't as dingy or slimy as some of the other bars in New York, but it was still a bar nonetheless. Liquor was poured heavily and drank just as fast, every which way you looked. Lonely bodies sat on the stools at the counter, drowning their sorrows and long days in burning whisky and scotch on the rocks. Whereas young hopefuls downed shot after shot of tequila, as though they didn't have a care in the world. 

The dance floor beat with the rhythm of the song pumped through the speakers, and soon the floor was nearly covered by the feet of those dancing along. Bodies were pressed against each other as each song only radiated bad ideas, and the corners of the room soon belonged to those who had lost all their inhabitations. 

But as you sat in a far stool at the end of the bar, you watched a man on the left edge of the establishment. It was the last part of the building that had yet to be remodeled, and it stuck out like a sore thumb, even in the murky lighting. The original walls were deep maroon brick and the floor was less florescent than the dance floor they installed months ago. The small corner of the bar seemed like something from another decade, getting lost in it's travel back to it's rightful era. A jukebox stood against the far wall, and you watched as the man--who's back was to you-- stared at the machine. His body still and unmoving, despite the blood pulsing vibrations the music on the other end of the bar was giving off. His hands were shoved deeply in the pockets of his jeans, and you could see the light shimmer off the brown fabric of his leather jacket. 

You frequented this bar more than you were willing to admit, and you could say with complete certainty that you had never seen this man in here before. But as you watched him curiously and undeniably intrigued, it almost seemed like he belonged with that side of the bar. Like he came from the time that side was built, and it only made you that much more interested in the mysterious man. 

You waited until the song changed and you could slightly begin to hear your own thoughts again. You drank the last of the cocktail you had ordered, and stood up anxiously from your seat. This wasn't something you ever did, go up to a stranger in a bar. In fact, this was the very first time. You weren't usually the bold type that went for it, and never feared embarrassment or rejection. But there was something about the man who stood alone and mystified on the other side of the bar, that called you over. 

Your heels clicked against the floor as you walked over to him, but the sound could hardly be heard over the loud thumping that just about shook the building. You had to keep yourself breathing as you walked nervously towards him, as hesitation flowed through your veins the closer you got. And a part of you wished you were drunk instead of the still pretty sober that you were. 

"Too many songs to chose from, huh?" 

His head turned swiftly as your words entered the small space between the two of you, and you could tell you had taken him by surprise for a short moment. You offered him a warm yet shy smile as though to apologize for startling him, and it seemed he accepted it as he too smiled back. 

"I guess you could say that." He said with a nod of his head, but his eyes never left your own. 

And it felt as though he could see straight through you, like you were glass; completely transparent to the human eye. But something in his eyes, that you realized were a stunning shade of baby blue, calmed you instead of making your skin stand on edge. There was something about the way he looked at you, even if he could see straight through you, that made you feel safe. Something about them that made you feel comforted. You felt seen, as he looked at you, and not just as some girl in a dirty downtown bar. 

"I was surprised to see they had one of these things," The man said, as he became the first to break eye contact. He looked to the jukebox, and reached a hand out to touch the smooth wood detailing. "it's been a long time since I've seen a place have one."

You smiled softly at the sound of nostalgia in his voice, and watched his eyes as they wracked over the ancient seeming machine. 

"They've been renovating the place for a while now," You told him conversationally. "I guess they just decided to keep it here."

The man looked back to you, "I wonder why."

"I mean," The man shrugged his shoulders softly. "isn't it a little old-fashioned for this day and age?"

The man didn't look to be older than early thirties, if even that, and yet he spoke as though he had wisdom far beyond his years. There was something about this man that seemed familiar and easy, although you had never met him before in your life. But he was different than any other man in this age, he seemed to be a little old fashioned himself. He didn't look at you with one thing on his mind and shadowed in his eyes. He looked at you as though you were just another human being. He didn't cockily show off the assets he held, although you could tell by the build of his body that he wasn't lacking in strength. He didn't act as though he had a thing to prove to each woman he came across. It was spellbinding, and refreshing all at the same time. 

"Maybe the world still needs a little old-fashioned every now and again."

As soon as your soft words hit the man's ears, he smiled warmly your way. And the way his eyes looked at you, it was as though you were the one this time that could see straight through him. For he regarded you with a captivated glimmer in his eyes, like it had been a long time since anyone ever saw him as he truly was. 

He stared at you a few seconds too long, even though you would've happily stood there for as long as he wanted to look, because he soon dropped his eyes as a pale pink hue began to flood his fair cheeks. But the smile he wore didn't slide from his perfect lips, and as he looked back up sheepishly he still smiled softly. 

"I'd ask you if you might care to dance, but I have to admit I'm not familiar with any of the songs they filled this jukebox with."

It was your turn to look down towards the floorboards, as warmth flooded your face. There was something about this man that made your heart hammer harder than any man you had ever met prior. He seemed like a figure of your imagination; for he seemed too perfect. There were few gentlemen left in the world, and yet here you were standing before the classic specimen in the flesh. 

"I'm sure we can something." You smiled timidly, as your eyes fluttered up to look at the man. 

It didn't take long for the two of you to become one of the many couples dancing together on the dancefloor. Except, you stayed in your bubble on the opposite end of the bar. The two of you swaying softly to a gentle humming melody coming from the old jukebox in the corner, and it felt intimate and magical... like something out of a dream. But each time you began to question your consciousness in the moment, you glanced up into his blue eyes that were always trained downward towards you. And you were reminded that this was real. 

You had stepped back into a different time that evening, one you hadn't ever planned on visiting, but now that you were there, you didn't think you'd ever want to leave. There was something to be said about the modern age and all of the advances that the human race had made. But there was also something to be said about a simpler time decades ago. The old fashioned things that people turned away from today, had wrapped it's arms around you that night. And it was beautiful. 

A/N: This one is shorter and written differently than some I've written in the past, but I'm still pleased with it. I hope you guys liked it!♡