Steve Rogerswasn't expecting a visitor ever since he had woken up from his coma few months ago, why would he, he didn't know anybody anymore. The knock had been random, and after spending months in this strange new world, surprises had begun to unsettle him. Standing on the other side of the door was a young man, likely in his mid-20s, casually dressed in a button-down shirt and worn jeans. His black hair was a mess, as if it resisted any attempt at taming, and his striking emerald, green eyes seemed to glow with an unearthly warmth. Despite the chaos of his appearance, the stranger's easy smile was oddly comforting, something Steve hadn't felt since waking up in a world that had moved on without him.
"May I help you?" Steve asked cautiously, unable to shake his war-born instincts.
The stranger extended his hand with friendly confidence. "Hello, Captain Rogers. I'm Captain Harry James Potter, 22 Special Air Service Regiment. It's an honour to meet you."
Steve hesitated for a moment before accepting the handshake, though his grip was tentative. "British Special Forces?" His brows furrowed, trying to place the young man before him.
"Retired," Harry replied with a brighter smile, his grip firm and sincere. "Mind if I come in?"
Steve paused, sizing up the man who stood before him. He still wasn't sure who Harry was, but he nodded. "Sure, come in."
As Steve closed the door behind them, he couldn't help but glance at Harry once more, curiosity piqued. "You seem a bit young to be retired."
Harry chuckled softly, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "It's a long story, but let's just say, when you've bent the rules as much as I have, retirement was the better option than being court-martialed."
Steve couldn't help but smile at the remark. He could understand that sentiment all too well. "Yeah, I get that," Steve replied, crossing his arms as he watched Harry move through the room with an ease Steve had rarely seen in anyone of his age. He wasn't sure what to make of the young captain yet, but there was something about him that felt friendly and approachable.
As Harry inspected the inside of the apartment,he took a slow, deliberate look around. His gaze wandered from Steve to the furniture, and then back to Steve, as if he were analyzing the place and its occupant all at once. Steve felt a sudden urge to straighten his shirt, a bit self-conscious under the scrutiny.
"You really are a miracle, Captain Rogers," Harry said casually, still inspecting the room like a curious tourist.
Steve blinked, confused. "Sorry, what?"
Harry turned to him, waving a hand in the air. "You know, being alive after 75 years in ice? Miracle doesn't seem too far off. It's either that or you're secretly a vampire. Either way, I'm impressed." He shot Steve a grin that was both teasing and strangely sincere.
Steve opened his mouth to respond but found himself at a loss for words. Harry, meanwhile, continued wandering around the room, pausing to touch the edge of a table with exaggerated curiosity.
"And I see SHIELD has gone all out on the décor," Harry said, voice dripping with amusement as he gestured to the apartment. "This place feels like a museum exhibit. It's like I've stepped onto the set of Casablanca, even the lighting screams 1940s. Though," he pointed at a nearby cell phone and laptop sitting untouched on a desk, "they've thrown in a couple of 21st-century gadgets, just in case you forget what decade you're in."
Steve's brow furrowed, caught off-guard by the strange comments. He couldn't help but glance around at his own apartment as if seeing it for the first time. "I… didn't really think about the lighting."
"Trust me, mate, it's atmospheric. Very noir." Harry tapped a lampshade and turned back to Steve, eyes twinkling. "You should offer tours. People love a good time capsule."
Steve let out a breath of surprise, part chuckle, part disbelief. This guy was something else. "Do you know SHIELD pretty well, Captain Potter?" he asked, trying to steer the conversation back to something he could understand.
Harry grinned, clapping his hands together. "Ah, right! Forgot the formalities in the middle of all my expert interior design critiques." He turned to face Steve, leaning casually against the wall. "I'm a consultant for SHIELD. Fury thought I might be a good fit to help you get up to speed with everything. Time, technology, not being stuck in the 1940s, small stuff like that."
Steve raised an eyebrow, processing the sudden flood of information. "A consultant?"
"Yep, consultant. I was in town for work, so I figured I'd swing by and say hi, and check on how you're adjusting to the whole 'being a living legend' thing." He shrugged, flashing a disarming smile. "No pressure though. I won't ask you to sign autographs. But if you meet a friend of mine called Phil Coulson, please autograph his trading cards. He is very proud of them."
Steve couldn't help but smirk at that. The awkwardness of the encounter was still hanging in the air, but Harry's humour was doing a good job of breaking it down, bit by bit.
Steve, still trying to piece together the unusual visitor in his apartment, motioned toward the dining table. "You live in the UK then?"
Harry chuckled as he followed Steve to the table. "Ah, no, sorry for the confusion. I used to, but I moved here a few years back. I got myself a little café in Los Angeles. That's where I spend most of my time now when I'm not running around consulting for SHIELD or getting into other sorts of trouble."
Steve raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the casual mention of both a café and consulting for a secretive organization. "A café, huh? Isn't British Special Forces, Café owner and SHIELD consultant very different fields?"
"I mean, I also consult for Stark Industries full-time. What can I say, I have varied tastes and skill sets." Harry replied nonchalantly.
"What do you serve?" Steve asked changing the subject from the enigmatic man with varied skills and tastes that was talking to him currently.
"Mostly coffee, but I like to sneak in a few British treats. You'd be amazed at how many people in LA lose their minds over a proper scone," Harry said, grinning. "Also, it's got the best tea and coffee in the city. Not that I'm biased."
As they settled into their chairs, Steve poured two cups of coffee, sliding one toward Harry. "Well, you'll have to judge mine then," Steve said, sitting down across from him.
Harry raised the mug to his lips, taking a sip. "Not bad, Captain Rogers. Not bad at all." He nodded appreciatively, setting the mug back down. "It's got that good old' classic taste, just like the rest of this apartment. You're keeping things traditional."
Steve chuckled, feeling a little more at ease now. "Thanks, I guess, however, it was SHEILD that got these groceries for me. Anyway, how can I help you, Captain Potter?"
Harry winced dramatically, setting his mug down with an exaggerated sigh. "First thing? Please, don't call me 'Captain Potter.' I retired from that title ages ago and hearing it makes me feel like I'm back in front of a drill sergeant."
Steve leaned back, crossing his arms. "Only if you stop calling me Captain Rogers. Steve works just fine."
Harry grinned. "Deal. Much better, isn't it? Two regular guys having coffee."
Steve gave a half-smile. "Sure, if you ignore the whole 'being frozen for 75 years' and 'consultant for a secret spy organization' parts."
Harry laughed, the sound light and easy, cutting through the lingering tension. "True, but we're making progress. Baby steps."
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the sound of coffee mugs clinking on the table the only noise between them. Finally, Harry leaned forward slightly, his expression softening as he got to the heart of why he was here.
"Alright, so, I'm not here to just inspect your excellent taste in coffee," Harry began, his tone shifting ever so slightly to something more serious, though still friendly. "Fury asked me to meet with you and to help you adjust. I know you've had briefings, and they've given you the basic crash course on modern tech and society, but I'm here for the... let's call it the 'real-world' side of things. Getting you familiar with the day-to-day stuff you won't find in any SHIELD manual."
Steve nodded thoughtfully. He wasn't sure exactly what to expect from Harry yet, but there was something reassuring in his casual approach. "And you're the guy for that, huh? Teaching me how to fit in?"
"Yep, that's me. Your personal tour guide to the 21st century," Harry replied with a playful grin, but there was a sincerity behind it. "You've been through a lot, time might've frozen for you, but it kept marching on for the rest of us. My job is to help bridge that gap, make sure you don't feel like you're stuck in a different century."
Steve sat back, weighing his words carefully. "I appreciate that. It's been… strange, waking up in a world where everything's different."
Harry nodded, his smile fading slightly as he met Steve's gaze. "Yeah, I figured. We'll take it one step at a time, Steve. No rush, no pressure."
Harry leaned back, fishing a small, old Nokia 6700 out of his pocket. He presented it to Steve with a grin, holding it like it was some prized artefact. "Alright, Steve. I get that back in your day, telephones were about as advanced as a tin can with string, but today? This little gadget's practically an extension of your arm. It's a good starting point."
Steve took the phone with a curious expression, turning it over in his hands as if it might bite him. "Looks durable," he commented, half-joking.
Harry laughed. "Oh, it is. Drop it off a building, drive over it with a tank—it'll probably still work. They don't make them like they used to." He leaned forward, pointing at the screen. "And don't worry, I'm not throwing you into the deep end with a smartphone yet. This is your training wheels."
Steve smiled, genuinely appreciating the gesture. "So, who exactly am I supposed to call with this?" he asked, looking up from the phone.
"Well, I've preloaded a few numbers for you," Harry said, tapping on the buttons. "Emergency services, SHIELD, and of course, good ol' Nick Fury, because nothing says modern living like having a direct line to the man with an eyepatch. Oh, and mine's in there too," Harry added with a smirk. "In case you ever feel like chatting or need a crash course in, I dunno, emojis."
Steve raised an eyebrow, visibly trying to process the concept of 'emojis' but choosing not to ask. "Right. So, how do I work this thing?"
Harry's face lit up with mock excitement as if he were about to reveal the mysteries of the universe. "I'm glad you asked! Step one: adding contacts." He slid his chair closer to Steve, guiding him through inputting a number. "See, you press this button here, then 'add contact,' type in the name, and voilà! Your very own digital address book."
Steve followed along with Harry's instruction as he added a new contact for the takeout from across the street, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Alright, got it. So, I just press these little buttons to call someone?"
"Yes!" Harry clapped his hands together, clearly enjoying this more than he should. "And if you ever get bored of calling Nick Fury, which, let's be honest, isn't hard, you can always give me a ring. I've been told I'm excellent company."
Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "I'll keep that in mind. What about texting?"
Harry grinned. "Ah, texting. Welcome to the future, Rogers. It's like sending a letter, but faster. And with fewer words." He showed Steve how to navigate the old T9 system, tapping the numbers to form letters. "This part takes some getting used to, but it's way easier once you get the hang of it."
Steve stared at the phone screen, watching letters slowly appear as he pressed the keys. "Seems like a lot of work for a few words."
"It was. Kids these days don't know the struggle," Harry joked. "T9 texting was an art form. You should see how fast people used to be on these things. They'd type out a whole novel before you finished a sentence."
Steve smiled again, his fingers still fumbling with the tiny keypad. "I guess I'll stick to calling for now."
Harry nodded, satisfied with the progress. "Good choice. And hey, if you ever get ambitious, I'll teach you about 'apps.' But one step at a time."
Next, Harry reached into his jacket and pulled out a small stack: a cheque book, a bank statement and a sleek debit card. He slid them across the table toward Steve with a grin. "So, I had a chat with Fury, and we got your pension all sorted out. This" Harry tapped the chequebook— "is your back-up plan. I'm guessing you know how to use this one."
Steve picked it up, flipping through the blank cheques along with the back statement, surprised at how much amount he had in his bank account. "Sure, no problem there."
"Great! Now, this" Harry held up the debit card like it was a golden ticket "is your new best friend. It's called a debit card, and it lets you either make payments or withdraw money straight from your bank account. No need to carry around cash."
Steve raised an eyebrow, looking at the slim piece of plastic with obvious suspicion. "Hold on a minute, You're telling me this little card" he picked it up between his thumb and forefinger like it might self-destruct "can hold my money? Like, all of it?"
Harry laughed. "Yeah, pretty much. Think of it like your modern-day wallet, except instead of pulling out cash, you just swipe or tap this. Technology, right?"
Steve squinted at the card, clearly unimpressed. "You mean anyone who gets a hold of this can swipe it and take my money?"
"Well, technically, you've got a PIN number, so it's not just free-for-all access," Harry explained, trying not to chuckle at Steve's growing skepticism.
Steve crossed his arms, looking genuinely concerned. "You realize how dangerous this sounds? Back in my day, if someone wanted your money, they had to actually takeyour wallet. Now all they need is a piece of plastic?"
Harry leaned back in his chair, grinning at Steve's old-fashioned caution. "You're not wrong. But hey, look at it this way you're carrying less, and you won't need to worry about losing wads of cash."
Steve shook his head slowly, still staring at the card. "And people are just okay with this? Everyone's trusting their money to a thing this small?"
Harry shrugged, his grin widening. "We prefer it this way, makes it easier to make digital purchases. Plus, it's a lot faster than carrying a briefcase full of bills. Trust me, once you get the hang of it, you'll wonder how you ever got by without it."
Steve remained unconvinced. "I'm just saying, back in the 40s, we knew where our money was. This feels like putting it all in some magic box. And what's digital purchases?"
Harry chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "Well, if it helps, think of it like a magic box with great security. We will deal with digital purchases when you get the hang of using a laptop and the internet. And hey, why don't we test it out? Take me out to lunch, and I'll show you how to use it."
Steve sighed, pocketing the card, still not fully convinced but willing to give it a try. "Alright. But if this thing loses my pension, you'll owe me more than just lunch."
Harry winked. "Deal. I'll even throw in a free coffee from my café if it happens."
The two headed out into the bustling New York streets. As they approached the subway entrance, Harry took on the role of an enthusiastic tour guide, gesturing grandly toward the stairs leading underground. "Now, behold! The New York City subway. One of the finest—albeit least sanitary—ways to get around the city. It's a marvel of modern engineering, and with just a swipe of a card, you can go almost anywhere."
Steve cracked a smile, raising an eyebrow. "You know we had subways back in the '30s and '40s, right? They were dirty back then too. This isn't exactly a new thing."
Harry paused mid-step, blinking at Steve for a moment before grinning sheepishly. "Right. Forgot I'm talking to a native New Yorker from, well… the last century."
Steve chuckled. "Yeah, the subway was just smaller back then. And it didn't come with a tour guide."
Harry rolled his eyes playfully as they swiped through the turnstile. "Fine, fine. But I still make a pretty good tour guide, don't I? I'd like to see Bucky give you this level of service."
That earned Harry a laugh from Steve, who was clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. "You might be onto something. Bucky was never much for grand tours. He'd just drag me along and tell me to keep up."
The two hopped on a train, and Harry leaned back with a grin. "Well, consider me your new personal guide to the 21st century. Where you get the full package: subway, cell phones, debit cards, and even the occasional free lunch."
"Sounds like I'm in good hands," Steve replied, appreciating Harry's effort despite already knowing his way around a subway.
A short while later, they emerged from the station, making their way down a quieter street. Harry led the way, but when they stopped in front of a small, one-story orange brick building, Steve froze in surprise.
The faded white paint on the wall read "P.J. Clarke's Bar and Restaurant." For a moment, Steve was speechless, staring up at the building like he'd just walked through a time portal.
"I'll be damned," Steve muttered under his breath, eyes scanning the old-fashioned façade. It looked almost exactly like it had in his youth—one of those places he'd always looked from afar but never had the chance to visit. Bucky had gone on about the place more than once, even saying they served their own brew of beer that was a must-try.
Harry turned around to see Steve's astonished look and smirked knowingly. "What? You look like you've seen a ghost. C'mon, I'm starving," he said, giving Steve a friendly shove toward the door.
The inside was busy, but Harry quickly snagged them a table near the back, offering Steve the seat with the best view of the place. As Steve sat down, he couldn't help but glance around, taking in the familiar décor. The polished wood bar, the vintage light fixtures, the checkerboard-tiled floor—it was like stepping back into the New York of his youth.
He smiled softly, feeling the nostalgia wash over him. "Place hasn't changed much. I heard stories about this place growing up, never had the chance to come here though. Bucky always said they served the best beer in the city."
Harry grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Well, it's about time you crossed that off your list, huh? Consider this your welcome-back meal. I figured you might like a little taste of home."
Steve chuckled, his eyes still scanning the restaurant as memories of old New York came flooding back. "You've got a knack for picking the right spots, Harry. Feels like I never left."
"Good to know," Harry replied, his grin widening. "Next time when you get a smartphone or tablet, I'll show you a place with Wi-Fi. Baby steps, Rogers."
A waiter served two tall glasses of beer as they ordered their food. They clinked their glasses together, and Steve took a long sip, letting the rich flavor wash over him. It was like a time capsule—familiar yet distant, a taste that brought him right back to his youth when Bucky and he had snuck a bottle of beer to try. For a moment, he felt like a kid again, sitting at a candy shop with his best friend.
"They say the recipe for this brew is the same one they used during Prohibition," Harry remarked, swirling his glass. "You think that's true?"
Steve smiled, still savouring the taste. "I wouldn't know. Never made it here back when I was alive." He paused, his expression growing sombre. "I always meant to come, but I never got the chance. I figured I'd finally visit after the war ended, but, well... you know how that went."
Harry studied Steve for a moment, noticing the weight in his voice. He set his glass down and leaned forward, his tone shifting to something softer, more serious. "Steve, why are you being sad about it? The war is over. You made it through—more than most people can say. You've got your whole life ahead of you now. And I get it, I really do. You're waking up in a world that feels like it's left you behind. Everyone you knew, everything you knew—it's different now. It's a lot to take in."
Steve nodded; eyes focused on the table. The loneliness, the weight of everything lost—it was hard to shake.
"But here's the thing," Harry continued, his voice steady but filled with conviction. "You're not alone. You're not done. You don't have to stop living just because everything around you has changed. You've got new friends to make, and new experiences waiting for you. Heck, you've got a whole litany of things you still want to do, don't you?"
Steve glanced up at Harry, surprised by how easily he had hit the nail on the head. "Yeah, but it feels different now. Like those dreams belonged to someone else—someone who didn't wake up 75 years too late."
Harry leaned back in his chair, shaking his head with a smile. "That's the thing, though. Those dreams still belong to you, Steve. They didn't die in the war or freeze with you on the ice. You fought for a future, and now you've got one. Maybe it's not the one you pictured, but that doesn't mean it can't be just as good. Hell, maybe even better."
Steve was silent for a moment, thinking it over. He had spent so long fighting, so long being a soldier, that he hadn't considered what it meant to just live.
Harry pressed on, his eyes twinkling with optimism. "You've got a pension now, enough to live comfortably throughout your life. I mean talk about compound interest right? You can explore, travel, and go to the places you've always wanted to see. You can finally take time to be Steve Rogers, not just Captain America. You've earned that, haven't you?"
Steve met Harry's gaze, and for the first time in a while, he felt a flicker of hope. "I suppose I have."
Harry grinned, sensing a shift. "Good. Because the world's waiting for you, Steve. There's so much out there, things that would have blown your mind back in the '30s & '40s. And I bet there's plenty left on your list you haven't even thought about yet."
Steve chuckled, feeling some of the weight lift from his shoulders. "You might be right about that."
Harry raised his glass again. "So, let's make a pact. From here on out, we focus on what's next. You've still got plenty of life to live, and I've got plenty of bad jokes and life advice to share. Deal?"
Steve raised his glass in response, smiling. "Deal."
Harry leaned back in his chair, reaching into his pocket. With a casual but sincere smile, he slid a small leather-bound notebook across the table toward Steve. Steve looked at it curiously, fingers tracing the cover.
"What's this?" Steve asked.
Harry grinned. "Your next mission, Captain."
Steve raised an eyebrow. "I thought I was done with missions."
"Well, this one's a little different." Harry tapped the cover of the notebook. "I want you to write down everything you want to do. Every little thing you never had the chance to do before, and things you'll discover now. Walk around the city, talk to people, soak in music, the movies, the art. Write down places you want to visit, foods you want to try, things that interest you, even the silly stuff. And who knows, maybe when I'm around next time, we can tick a few off that list together."
Steve opened the notebook, flipping through the blank pages. "A notebook for my bucket list."
"Exactly." Harry leaned in, his tone light but sincere. "You've got this whole new world at your fingertips, Steve. This time, you get to experience it your way. No uniforms, no battles, just life. So, let's make sure you live it."
Harry added with a smirk, "Oh, and next time I'll teach you how to properly use that television in your apartment. Maybe show you how to stream movies. The '40s didn't have anything like it."
Steve chuckled. "Movies really?"
"You'll see," Harry teased, winking. "But let's start small. One step at a time."
Steve tucked the notebook into his jacket pocket, nodding. "Thanks, Harry. I don't think I've said that enough today, but thank you. For everything."
Harry waved it off, smiling warmly. "Hey, I'm just doing my part. Besides, you're Captain America, helping you adjust is the least I can do."
The two clinked glasses once more and dug into their meal, juicy steaks and hearty burgers, while Steve shared some of the things he'd always wanted to do. They laughed about the places he wanted to visit, the hobbies he'd never had time to pick up, and the simple joys he had missed out on.
For the first time since he'd woken up in this new world, Steve felt something he hadn't done in a long time: excitement. Maybe Harry was right, maybe his life wasn't behind him after all.
As the meal drew to a close, the waiter placed the bill on the table. Harry slid it over to Steve with a grin. "Alright, big guy, this is your moment to shine. Time to use your shiny new debit card."
Steve picked up the bill and frowned, glancing at the debit card Harry had given him earlier. Steve looked skeptical, flipping the card over in his hand. "What if someone steals this? They could buy whatever they wanted without needing money."
Harry grinned. "True, but they'd also need your PIN number. It's like a secret code. Without it, the card is useless."
Steve still seemed unconvinced. "And if I forget the code?"
"Then you'll have to wait on hold with a bank for hours trying to get a new one. It's a modern form of torture." Harry winked.
Steve smirked and shook his head. "Alright, fine. What do I do?"
Harry pointed to the small card reader the waiter had brought over. "Okay, just put the card in there."
Steve carefully slid the card into the machine like it was an explosive device about to detonate. "Like this?"
"Yes, exactly!" Harry encouraged. "Now, type in your PIN. You remember your PIN, right?"
Steve hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keypad. "Is it the four numbers you told me to memorize earlier?"
"Yup, the very same."
Steve punched the numbers in slowly, muttering them under his breath like he was cracking a code. "Alright, now what?"
"Now hit the green button," Harry said, trying not to laugh at Steve's intense focus.
Steve pressed the button, and for a moment, nothing happened. He looked at Harry suspiciously. "Did it work?"
Harry raised a finger. "Wait for it…"
A beep sounded from the machine, and the waiter gave a polite nod. "Thank you, gentlemen. Have a good day."
Steve blinked, staring at the machine like it had just performed a magic trick. "That's it?"
"That's it!" Harry clapped him on the back. "Congratulations, you just bought lunch in the 21st century."
Steve shook his head, still marveling at how easy—and weird—it was. "That was…too easy. You're sure no one can just take this card and use it?"
"Only if they're good at guessing your PIN. But I wouldn't worry. You'll get the hang of it. Plus, it's way safer than walking around with a fistful of dollars."
Steve chuckled, sliding the card back into his wallet. "I'm still not sure how I feel about invisible money."
Harry grinned. "Don't worry. The invisible money will grow on you."
As they got up from the table, Steve gave one last skeptical look at his wallet. "Invisible money, magic cards…what'll they think of next?"
Harry smirked. "Wait till I teach you about online shopping."
As they left the restaurant, the two stepped out into the bustling streets of New York. The city hummed with life, far different from the one Steve remembered, but still familiar in its own way. Harry walked beside him, pointing out landmarks and sharing stories about how much things had changed—or stayed the same.
"You'd be surprised how much of the city still has its old charm," Harry remarked, gesturing toward a street filled with vintage shops. "But there's a lot of new stuff too. You just need to find the balance."
Steve chuckled. "I'll take your word for it."
They strolled through the streets for a while longer, Steve taking in the sights and sounds of a New York he both knew and didn't know. Every so often, Harry would ask Steve about how things used to be—what the city was like in his time, what memories stuck with him. It was an easy conversation, filled with warmth and nostalgia, mixed with humor as they compared the differences between eras.
As they rounded a corner, Harry stopped, grinning at the sight of a corner bookstore. "You ever been to a place like this?"
"Not one quite like that," Steve admitted, looking at the cozy little shop with curiosity.
"Well, that's going on the list," Harry said with a wink. "We'll add 'find the best old books' to your notebook."
Steve smiled, the sense of adventure growing within him. "I'm starting to think I might need more than one notebook."
Harry laughed. "That's the spirit, Rogers."
And as they continued walking, the city unfolding before them, Steve felt a little less like a man out of time and a little more like someone who was finally ready to live again.
Lastly, Harry led Steve to an old-school boxing gym tucked away on a quiet side street near the apartment that Steve was renting. The place looked as though it hadn't changed since the 1930s, with weathered posters of classic boxing matches adorning the walls and the scent of leather and sweat lingering in the air.
"This place feels like it's from my time than yours," Steve commented, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he took in the familiar sight.
Harry approached the front desk and signed Steve up for membership. "Figured you could use a spot to let off some steam. Plus, what better way to acclimate to the modern world than by doing something that hasn't changed much since your time?"
Steve chuckled, appreciating the gesture. "Can't argue with that."
As they walked past the ring, Harry stopped, eyeing it with a mischievous grin. "You know, since we're here... you wanna go a few rounds?"
Steve raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "You think you can take me on?"
Harry smirked, shrugging casually. "I've got a few tricks up my sleeve, grandpa."
Steve laughed. "Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you."
The two suited up, each stepping into the ring with a playful but competitive gleam in their eyes. They squared off, Harry bouncing lightly on his feet, while Steve took a more grounded stance.
"Don't go easy on me, Rogers. I can handle myself," Harry quipped, adjusting his gloves.
"I wouldn't dream of it," Steve replied, a grin spreading across his face.
With that, they began circling each other. Harry darted forward with quick jabs, testing Steve's defenses. Steve, ever the tactical fighter, blocked them with ease, responding with sharp counters that Harry narrowly avoided. Despite the playful banter, both of them had a gleam of focus in their eyes.
Harry ducked under a punch and sidestepped, landing a light jab to Steve's ribs. "Not bad, eh?"
Steve smirked. "I've had worse."
The two continued their back-and-forth, exchanging punches and dodges. Harry relied on his agility and speed, weaving in and out, while Steve's strength and precision kept him solidly in control. At one point, Harry managed to sweep around behind Steve, tapping him lightly on the back with a cheeky grin.
"That's one for me," Harry teased, hopping back before Steve could react.
"You're faster than you look," Steve admitted, nodding in respect. "But speed isn't everything."
As the rounds went on, both men found their rhythm. Harry's playful jabs were met with Steve's seasoned counters, and though Steve had the upper hand in strength, Harry's unpredictability kept the fight balanced. After a few more exchanges, Steve managed to land a solid punch on Harry's shoulder, sending him back a step. But Harry quickly recovered, flashing a grin.
"Not bad, but I'm just warming up," Harry said, shaking it off.
The playful rivalry between them built until, after several minutes of sparring, both were breathing a little harder but still grinning. They paused, gloves up, eyeing each other for the next move.
Then, with a sudden burst, both swung at the same time—Steve's right hook meeting Harry's left jab—and they connected at the exact same moment. The impact sent them both stumbling back, caught off guard by each other's timing.
For a moment, they stood there, blinking in surprise before breaking into laughter.
"Call it a draw?" Harry suggested, rubbing his jaw with a grin.
Steve chuckled, offering a gloved hand for a shake. "Yeah, I think that's fair. You hit harder than I thought. That's a compliment from a super soldier"
Harry just shrugged at that remark.
They shook hands, both still smiling as they climbed out of the ring.
Harry grabbed his towel, wiping the sweat from his brow. "You're not bad for a guy who's been on ice for seventy-five years."
Steve laughed, rolling his shoulders. "You're not bad for a guy with 'a few tricks up his sleeve,' either."
As they gathered their things, Harry patted Steve on the back. "Next time we spar, I'll show you a few more of my tricks. But for now, I think we both earned a break."
Steve nodded, feeling a sense of camaraderie with his new friend. "Looking forward to it."
As they departed the gym, the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden light over the city streets. Steve walked beside Harry, still smiling from their sparring match, their friendly banter lingering in the air.
"You know, I didn't expect to enjoy today as much as I did," Steve said, his tone lighter than it had been in days. "Thanks, Harry. It's been a long time since I've felt—well, normal."
Harry gave him a nod. "You're welcome, Steve. It was good to spend time with you. Just remember, you're not alone in this new world. I'm just a call away."
As if on cue, Harry's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen before his expression shifted. The name Nick Furywas displayed in bold letters.
Harry's face grew serious as he answered. "Fury?"
Fury's voice came through the line, urgent and no-nonsense. "We're in a level 7 emergency, Potter. I need you at the New York office immediately. We're at war."
For a moment, Harry's breath caught. Level 7. War. His eyes flicked up to Steve, who was watching him with a raised brow, sensing the sudden tension in the air.
"I'll be there in five," Harry replied, his voice steady despite the sudden weight in his chest.
Fury didn't offer any more details—he never did. The line went dead, leaving Harry standing in silence for a heartbeat. The lightness that had filled the day vanished in an instant, replaced by a palpable sense of foreboding. This wasn't a drill. The world was about to change again.
Harry lowered the phone and looked at Steve, his expression sombre. "Something's happening. I got to go."
Steve's face hardened, the soldier in him instantly recognizing the shift in the atmosphere. "What is it?"
"I don't know the details yet, but Fury says we're in a state of emergency. I must report in."
Steve gave a curt nod, his eyes narrowing with resolve. "If we're at war, I want in."
Harry hesitated for a brief second. He knew Steve was more than capable, but he also knew this would be Steve's first real test in this new world—a world that had changed dramatically from the one he once knew.
"I'll let Fury know," Harry finally said. He turned to leave, but stopped briefly, his voice softer. "Take care, Steve. Things are about to get complicated."
With that, Harry took his leave from Steve and found a quiet alley nearby, glancing around to ensure no one was watching, he vanished with a sharp crack.
Author's Note:
I don't know why but chapter 46 feels like it's the start of the end of this story or at least book 1 of a series. Even though I know that there are more than 150 chapters in this story. I feel like arc 5 is somehow an end to something. And the Battle of New York is a culmination of this story. The excitement of sharing the story feels like I am in a series finale and my friends and I are all discussing how the series is going to end. (Just a random man's ramblings) - When I scheduled the post for the start of arc 5. I felt a multitude of emotions. Pride, happiness and joy, sadness, fear and nervousness. Now that the chapter is out. I feel, for lack of a better word, worse. I don't know if this finale will end well. I don't know how you will receive it. I don't know if this arc sets a bar that I can't keep in Phase 2 and Phase 3 of the MCU. I felt like I have poured my heart and soul into this story and as Phase 1 comes to an end I am scared of what next. Thank you each and everyone of you for the tremendous amount of support you have given me and this story. I love you for everything. You guys are the best and allowed me to do something that I have always wanted to do.
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