Chapter Text
Steve had finally moved into his DC apartment the previous night, and he wanted to establish a routine. He rose early in the morning to pray then got dressed in his running gear and ran down to the monuments.
By Steve’s third pass by the reflection pool, he saw another man running as well. He gave a cry of “on your left,” as he passed the man each time, the last time as the man yelled, “don’t say it! Don’t you say it! Come on!” groaning in humorous frustration.
Steve wanted to actually talk to him. He seemed nice enough, and Steve was a bit lonely in DC, not knowing anyone but his coworkers at SHIELD. So he watched the other man as he finished his run and moved into the shade to cool down now that the sun was up. A couple minutes after he sat down, Steve approached the man, jokingly asking, “need a medic?”
The man laughed, saying, “I need a new set of lungs. Dude, you just ran like thirteen miles in thirty minutes.”
“Guess I got a late start,” Steve replied. He really had gotten a bit later of a start than he planned, being in a new city and all.
“Really? You should be ashamed of yourself. You should take another lap.” The man paused, then continued, “did you take it? I assume you just took it.”
Steve decided to turn the conversation in a more serious direction asking the man, “what unit are you with?” gesturing towards his Air Force sweatshirt.
"Fifty-eighth, Para-rescue. But now I'm working down at the VA. Sam Wilson,” the man responded.
Steve gave Sam a hand to get to his feet, introducing himself, “Steve Rogers.”
“I kind of put that together. Must have freaked you out coming home after the whole defrosting thing.”
“It takes some getting used to. It's good to meet you, Sam."
Steve made to leave, but Sam interrupted, "It's your bed, right?”
“What's that?”
“Your bed, it's too soft. When I was over there I sleep on the ground and used rock for pillows, like a caveman. Now I'm home, lying in my bed, and It's like…”
“Lying on a marshmallow,” Steve finished. “I feel like I'm gonna sink right to the floor.” Sam smiled at that, and Steve asked, “how long?”
"Two tours,” Sam replied then shifted the focus back to Steve, asking, “you must miss the good old days, huh?”
"Well, things aren't so bad. 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.”
"Marvin Gaye, 1972, ‘Trouble Man’ soundtrack. Everything you've missed jammed into one album.”
"I'll put it on the list,” Steve said, as he did about every recommendation he was given, and he dutifully added it to his actual paper list. “You always go running this early?” Steve asked, wanting to keep the conversation going.
“Pretty much. Once I get up to pray at dawn—I’m Muslim—I can’t really go back to sleep. And I figure, as long as I’m awake I might as well actually be doing something, so I got into the habit of running when I got back to the States.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, do you have a mosque you go to for Jummah?”
“Yeah. Masjid Muhammad. It’s in the Shaw area, not too far from Howard University.”
“Mind if I join you today? I just moved, so I haven’t had a chance to visit any yet,” Steve asked as he jotted the name of the mosque down in his notebook as well.
“Yeah, no, man, it’s no problem. Please come make me look good in front of everyone. You actually Muslim, or you just want to see what it’s all about?” Sam replied.
“I’ve been a Muslim since 1938. Said the shahada and everything.”
“Sure would have been nice if the history books had mentioned that,” Sam said. “Might have saved a lot of people a lot of pain if they knew that Cap was a Muslim. I doubt you’d hear nearly as much hate speech as gets thrown around today.”
“I never meant it to be a secret, but the military or the government or SHIELD or somebody had a different idea. Captain America was supposed to be the perfect America, blond-haired, blue-eyed, and a good Christian man. And Steve Rogers didn’t really matter.”
“That sucks man, and it’s a shame. If it means anything to you, Steve Rogers matters to me.”
“Thanks,” Steve said, feeling a little overwhelmed. “You kind of remind me of Bucky. He told me something similar.”
“I’m honored. Now, if you don’t mind, I really ought to go if I don’t want to show up for prayer covered in sweat.”
“Go, go,” Steve said. “I’ll see you again soon.”