Slow Day

Characters: Daisy Johnson Steve Rogers
Rated: PG
Summary: Computer problems lead to Daisy Johnson's first real encounter with Steve Rogers. Coffee is had. At least, she's pretty sure that stuff still qualifies as coffee.
OOC Date: Sat Dec 16 22:56:11 2017
IC Date: Sat Dec 16 12:00 2017
Where: The Triskelion

Steve Rogers, despairing, stares at his computer.

It had been going okay— for a bit— when he was trying to type. It was basically a typewriter, right? And the words appeared much more quickly. The backspace key was a miracle in and of itself.

But then he'd bumped two keys, and the screen had gone away. And then some other screen had popped up. And he tried resetting the computer and using the login carefully written on a sticky note near the window, but somehow he'd logged into someone else's account…?

Steve rolls back from his desk and pushes the laptop to the furthest corner and walks out of the small office. He'd refused all but the blandest of offices, and it was clear that the computer was the most foriegn object in the room.

Sticking his head out of the office, Steve looks around, then walks down the hall to try and find the first shared workspace with a person in it.

"Uh… 'scuse me," he says, clearing his throat. "I'm having some trouble with my computer. Who do I talk to about computer repair?"

It's a slow day. What's weird is that, somewhere along the way, Daisy Johnson had come to appreciate slow days.

Sure, sitting in a cubicle and catching up on paperwork wasn't exactly Daisy's idea of a *fun* time, but it was a lot better than what happened on busy days. So she'd learned to be grateful for the tedium when it was kind enough to show itself. Even if it was threatening to put her to sleep.

It's only a moment after Steve's cleared his throat before Daisy's head pops up over the top of a cubicle wall, and she blinks twice. That's… focus, Johnson. Focus. "Ah, I can probably help," she says, flashing a smile and making her way in his direction. "What's up?"

"I don't know," Steve admits, wryly. He beckons her along, and gestures helplessly at the computer. "I was trying to write something, then it all— well, I don't know. It just changed of a sudden." He suppresses frustration in his tone, more wearied than angry.

"So now I can't bring up any of the, uh… things I was writing on, and I tried to follow the instructions that they left me, but the best I can tell is that it runs on some kind of electricity," he says, with a frustrated flick of his fingers.

"If you've got any suggestions, I'd appreciate it."

Daisy can't supress a genuine smile at the frustration, following along back to his office. "All we left you were written instructions?" she asks, sounding surprised as she slides into the chair to give the screen a look.

At least one of them looks right at home in front of a computer.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, even I needed more than a set of Cliff's Notes before I could use one of these things." A few quick keystrokes and clicks of the mouse, and Daisy's returned it to the login screen. She climbs back out of the chair and gestures for Steve to retake his seat. "You just switched accounts. It's… freakishly easy to accidentally log out of these things."

"I don't know Cliff, is he on this floor?"

Steve watches Daisy work, brow furrowing as he keeps up with what she's doing. He nods along, and then reassumes his seat at her invitation. "Okay. Uh… the… mouse thing… and then I go to 'email'… and then—"

The screen flickers twice, and then the email goes away. Steve starts, fingers flexing in consternated supplication at the Machine God.

"What is an… overflow_stack error?" he reads. The computer *BEEEEPS* furiously and reboots itself, and Steve rolls his eyes and slides away from the desk.

"Broken. Oh well. I can find some pen and paper somewhere," he tells Daisy. "I'm sure there's a hardcopy of the form somewhere. THanks for the help, though— can I buy you a cup of coffee?" he inquires, heading towards the break area.

Daisy is about to apologize and explain about Cliff when Steve manages to anger the Machine God. She blinks twice, slowly tilting her head at the screen, actually… kind of impressed. It was just email.

"I… can probably fix this. But maybe pen and paper are best for now," Daisy admits, aiming a lopsided smile at him just as the question finally registers. Her step only falters briefly before she hurries to keep up with him, her face positively lighting up. "What? Sure! I mean, I'd never say no to a free coffee." And definitely not one from Steve Rogers. She'll get over being starstruck one day, she's sure of it.

Steve ambles to the break area. There's a Keurig, of course, but there's a classic old drip coffeemaker in there as well. Steve had figured out how to operate it on the first day, because Steve's an Army man, and the Army runs on coffee.

"Huh. No one likes drip anymore," Steve grunts, pouring a cup for himself and a cup for Kitty. It's probably because Steve makes coffee strong enough to stand a spoon up in it. He offers a cup of the thick, almost viscous black gold to Daisy, then pours himself a cup as well.

"It's Daisy, right? Daisy Johnson?" he inquires, politely. "You're one of the ones that SHIELD's been tapping for that special services team, if I remember right." It's the sort of thing Steve would do— read all the dossieres of all the co-workers he might have, putting names to faces for just this sort of chance encounter.

Daisy accepts the cup without batting an eyelash, raising it in a salute of thanks before bringing it up for a sip.

*That's* when she bats an eyelash. Daisy may run on coffee, but she guesses super soldiers run on something else. Hoo. Maybe little sips?

"I still drink drip now and then, but usually? Starbucks keeps me afloat," Daisy muses, hitching up to sit on the edge of a counter. …hang on. "Oh, shit. Sorry — yeah, that's me. I don't usually forget to introduce myself, but I guess I'm not usually meeting…" She gestures awkwardly in his direction, finally letting herself appear noticably flustered, before repeating the "Sorry."

"Too much sugar," Steve says, shaking his head. "And the coffee's a little watery," he adds.

Stirring in some cream into his coffee, he politely doesn't mention Daisy's mild profanity. "It's fine," he assures Daisy, with a reassuring smile. "No one's on review here or anything. It's nice to meet you, Daisy. Call me Steve, huh? No uniforms around here," he remarks, looking around the office space. Steve wears a flannel shirt and jeans, but it's pretty obvious he's a man accustomed to being in a military outfit. The men and women in suits and jackets are a little… corporate.

"Yeah, I can see you like your stuff a little stronger." Daisy is tempted to turn her cup over and see how long it takes the coffee to pour out. Maybe later. Might be rude while he's watching.

Daisy's not really one for the corporate look, herself. That's the one thing about her that didn't change with terrigenesis. "Steve," she repeats, smiling oddly. "Not gonna lie, that might take some time. I'll do my best. And if you want, I can show you how to get the computers to actually work for you. I promise, it just takes practice."

"My friend Linda said the same thing about my television," Steve says, wryly. "I tried watching a movie, and I got stuck on some channel that was playing music nonstop? I gave up and went to get a book," he admits. "My radio works pretty well, and I found a station I like."

"Howard and Thomas were always the technical guys," he admits. "They would have loved this, seeing what machinery people have now. I'll get used to it eventually," he assures Daisy.

"How'd you get mixed up with SHIELD?" he inquires. "Things here are a little different than I remember, but the working crew— they seem to be the folks to get stuff done," he says, approvingly.

"No shame in sticking with what works."

The question actually gets Daisy to laugh and look up towards the ceiling. "How did I — oh, gosh. I don't think I've actually told this story before," she admits, setting her cup aside so she can clasp her hands together in her lap. "The short version is, I was exposing a lot of bad people in high places and it got me noticed. They needed somebody with my computer skills to help with something major, and I wound up… sticking around."

Daisy pauses for a moment. "Wow… the short version leaves out a lot. I am only just realizing this."

"Short version tends to do that," Steve agrees, chuckling. "It's okay. I didn't mean to put you on the spot," he apologizes. "Everyone's got a story. But it's swell you're working with Stormwatch now. I've been reading up on the people who are working for SHIELD. Seems like a … unique bunch," he grins. "Reminds me a little of how it was with the Commandos."

"Well, I mean— Dugan couldn't throw tanks," he amends, pursing his lips. "But as he'd say, with enough dynamite, you can fake anything."

"No, no, I actually don't mind," Daisy replies quickly, holding up her hands. "Most of the people here already know, that's all. And this job doesn't lend itself to a super active, open social life." She shrugs helplessly. "It's nice to be asked."

That, and his reminiscing, gives Daisy a moment's pause as something dawns on her. Her smile's still there, but it softens. "You must miss them. This whole experience has got to be, just…" She briefly widens her eyes and puffs up her cheeks. "I can't even imagine."

"It's, uh… it's a bit of an adjustment," Steve concedes, with a soldier's endless tolerance for discomfort. "Sort of strange, which is… well, that's an understatement," he allows. He sighs, very slightly, and flashes another smile at Daisy.

"But the war's over, and we won. I couldn't ask to wake up to better news than that," he promises her. "America's still America. I recognized a bunch of places in Brooklyn. My favorite bagel shop's still there," he says, brightening a little. "It was a little weird meeting Hershel's great-grandaughter… and her, uh, wife— but the food's probably even better. I think that would have made him really happy, to see them keeping the dream alive."

"Sorry. You don't have to talk about the crummy parts," Daisy grimaces, dropping her hands back into her lap. "But sometimes the people here can forget that they're dealing with… you know. People. It can be hard to remember that behind the shield is a guy from Brooklyn. That's part of why I stick around," she admits, glancing towards the door. "To remind them."

Absently, she draws her legs up to sit crosslegged on the counter, turning a smile back Steve's way. Her eye even picks up a twinkle at mention of the Hershels. "It's a lot to take in. I'm glad so much of it is good, at least," Daisy muses. "For every crappy thing we've done, it feels like a dozen better people have stepped up. It's important to remember that."

"Well— that's America," Steve tells Daisy, flashing an approving smile. "I knew people who did it when the Kaiser first kicked off and again when the Germans invaded Poland and we started supporting the war effort. It's what we do, I guess— buckle down and get to work when things are looking down, y'know?"

"So— Stormwatch," Steve says. "I understand that the team hasn't seen a lot of mobility lately, but there's talk about re-activating the contingency teams." He stirs his coffee deliberately, looking up from it to give Daisy a speculative work. "But I suppose you're the sort who'd rather stay here in the offices, right?"

Daisy rocks a hand back and forth, squinting one eye closed. "If staying here in the offices means nobody needs me? Sure. But if there's something I can do to be helpful out there, I'm first out the door. Especially these days." Without thinking, she scoops her coffee back up and has a drink, and there's really nothing she can do to hide the face she makes whens he very abruptly remembers just how sludgey Steve likes his coffee.

She'll feel less embarassed as soon as she stops coughing, she's sure of it.

"The, uh. Sorry. The work I like to do is actually the… the talky stuff. Meeting people. Helping people." Daisy makes a face. "But we don't get to do that as often as we do the other thing."

"You know— I knew a lot of pretty great people," Steve remarks, kindly. He doesn't seem to understand why Daisy's cringing, but he's too polite to mention it. "Jor-El could throw tanks around and I saw Polly shoot a grenade out of the air with an arrow," he says.

"But after it was all said and done, you need talkers to fix things. Set people up right, build homes and lives back up."

He clasps Daisy's shoulder, looking down at her. "Don't ever put yourself down for wanting to help people with your words, no matter what else we're good at."

"I should find those forms, if they even exist," he says wryly. "But, it was good talking to you, Daisy. I hope we get out into the field together soon. Talking never really was one of my skills," he confesses. He grins wryly, salutes Daisy with his mug, and turns to take his leave.

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