not a perfect soldier, but a good man.

steve rogers | 29 | new york 'i'm just a kid from brooklyn.' {{closed rp blog for project multiverse}}

[i-am-gold-titanium-alloy-deacti]

Little More Than a Stark Expo || Steve & Tony

[i-am-gold-titanium-alloy-deacti]

Tony nearly gawked at the burst of laughter as Steve patted his shoulder. He was perhaps a little over protective of his creations, particularly the ones that felt and communicated. His nose crinkled in annoyance but could only roll his eyes and let the smile take back over his face at Steve’s amusement. He settled back into the seat as the captain stared at the phone.

In a rare show of patience, Tony stayed quiet as Steve drifted off into his mind. Names were important and marked each pile of coding as an individual. Even if the name was a little cruel or bland, every AI was special and deserved it’s own name. Whatever Steve came up would be the little guy’s name for the rest of time, marking the AI as it’s own being.

Tony only smiled as the Brooklyn accent came over the phone’s speakers. “It’s much better than Tony Stark’s project name for me, SRG2T21C.”

"Rude," Tony muttered in good nature. "Alright so Buddy it is! So, Bud, why don’t we give our favorite soldier the run down on you work?"

"Well, that would be the best course of action. Otherwise I would be rather inefficient in my primary purpose of helping Sir through the 21st century." There was a cheeky tone to the Brooklyn accent that rung with amusement.

"Why? Why do all my babies sass me? Rogers, get him under control. He’s you responsibility now," Tony teased gesturing to the phone expecting there to be some kind of reprimand.

[captains-rogers]

Steve appreciated the moments silence Tony allowed him as he sifted through his thoughts, aware of how uncharacteristic it was for the other man to not be passing comment. Still the tension in his mind caused by remembering was quickly eased as the phone confirmed his approval, the captain releasing a scoff of laughter at the snarky remarks. "I think you and me are going to be good friends." Steve hummed lowly, cradling the phone in his wide palm as if it was something precious, something that was actually a living organism that needed gentle handling. Tony had teased the soldier on more than one occasion for his treatment of Tony's bots as if they were living creatures, but Steve knew the other man cared for his AI's more than he'd admit. Steve could tell in the way he threatened Jarvis with recalibration and the daily scolding a Dum-E received and the playful banter now occurring between Tony and Buddy brought a small smile to Steve's face. "Like father like son, right? Or should I say like creator like robot?" Steve accompanied his words with a soft nudge of his elbow against Tony's, well aware he was probably in for a lecture about how it wasn't a robot. Leaning back in his chair, Steve levelled the other man with an arched brow, eyes bright as he spoke. "Anyway, you're telling me you can save New York from alien invasion but you can't handle a bit of sarcasm from a phone?"

[connectthemoles]

Fists Up, Kid || Stiles & Steve

[connectthemoles]

Stiles cringed and took the offered hand with a rueful grin. “Thanks, for the, uh, the help up.” Stiles stood in front of the man trying to not feel horrified at himself in the face of this stupidly fit male specimen who could probably hit all the punching bags in all the right ways. Seriously what was even up with this guy, it was like he was the perfect huma… “Oh my god you’re Steve Rogers.” Stiles’ eyes went wide and he tried not to swallow his tongue. “That would explain the physical perfection and… and I was just a fumbling mess in front of Captain America.” Stiles knew his cheeks were blazing bright red and he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole.

"Sorry that you had to bear witness to my whole, uh…" Stiles made a half-hearted rolling punching motion with his hands, shrugging. "It’s my first time trying this. I played lacrosse in high school, but that was mostly just a lot of running, throwing, and smashing into other players." He thought of the letter in his bag suddenly, and wow talk about coincidences. Stiles didn’t really believe in coincidences anymore. That letter had only arrived this morning, and here he was meeting the man who had sent it for the first time.

That had to mean something; it was for a reason. One didn’t study supernatural forces and mysticism without learning to see the patterns in the small details.

[captains-rogers]

Steve helped pull the young man to his feet with a firm grip, waiting until he was steady on his feet before releasing his hold. "Don't mention it." He assured him, about to speak when realisation filled the other man's features. A light blush flooded across Steve's cheeks, shoulders twitching in a small shrug, but he still nodded in confirmation of his identity. "Guess I should be used to that by now." He chuckled, lips quirking into a grin. "But honestly, I prefer just Steve." His face was open and relaxed, eyes sparkling with faint amusement as he listened to the young man ramble. Waving his hand in a dismissive gesture at the offered apology, Steve nodded back at the bag, arms folding loosely over his chest. "Don't worry about it. My first time on the bags wasn't a great success either. I was so bad I think they actually threatened to kick me out." The words were punctuated with a warm, reassuring smile, Steve choosing not to mention that this was some 70 years ago. The implication was there.  Uncertain as to what lacrosse actually was, Steve just nodded at the explanation offered, gaze remaining on the boy's face until he had finished. "Your technique was just a little off." Steve offered, words good natured as he gestured to the stranger's arm. "You keep punching like that you're going to hurt your shoulder." As he spoke, Steve moved to stand next to the bag, curling out an arm to hold it in place before turning back to the younger man. "I can show you if you want? It's easy once you know where you're going wrong." The words were said with genuine conviction, the training session with the new recruits soon ending meaning that Steve had some spare time. "What's your name, son?"

[thewinter-machine]

Behind the Trigger // Steve and the Soldier

[captains-rogers]

thewinter-machine:

The knife pressed past Steve’s body, swinging with a practiced precision. He took a step back, both of them staring each other down. He twirled the knife within his grasp, holding it out before moving to try to cut the man, or at the very least the shield. No one had warned him of the power the vibranium shield contained. No one told him that when he jabbed his knife into it it would barely make a dent let alone never be able to cut through it. He scowled, pulling the knife back out, duck and rolling out of the way. Knife still in hand he headed straight for the Captain, trying to figure out the best way to take him out. He snarled and jumped in the air, feet aimed the loose end of the shield in preparation to kick it off the other man’s arm.

Steve held firm, muscles tensing as the blade of the knife crashed into the vibranium, impact reverberating up his arm. Gritting his teeth, Steve could hear the scratch of metal, barely having time to breathe before the other man was rolling away. The stranger moved with precision, an elegance shining through the violence in a way that was almost disconcerting. He moved in a way that was brutal and yet fluid, as if his entire body was a weapon. Tracking his actions, Steve lofted the shield above his head in preparation for another blow. Jaw clenched, Steve ducked his knees as the man connected again with the shield, shifting to the side slightly so that he was not disarmed.  The assassin seemed almost impossibly strong, the captain having to dig his feet down so as not to be pushed down. Forcing back with as much strength as he could muster, Steve let out a grunt of exertion as he threw the other man away from him.

[crowlism-blog]

Atrocity Exhibition || Crowley, Steve, Tony

Nick Fury sits behind his desk, flipping through file after file and ignoring the busy honking and beeping of the city hundreds of feet below him. A newspaper on the desk tells of the recent difficulties he’s been having with SHIELD’s image- the headline reads Serial Murder Spree Wipes Out Dozens In Manhattan, Brooklyn and the cover shows a map of the locations where the major incidents have occurred. Right in SHIELD’s backyard. Nick Fury is seven different shades of curious about what’s going on, and it’s big enough for him to want to put the people most likely to work it out quickly on the case as a first resort.

He might even know a thing or two about it that he’s not telling anyone. It could happen.

He’s had communications sent out to Tony and Steve to meet him this morning in his office. He doesn’t expect Steve to take long but you never knew with Tony. Well, yes he does. He knows what Tony was doing last night. It remained to be seen whether he would be late for this, however.

He reads another file as he continues to wait for them to enter his office.

[captains-rogers]

When Steve had received the message from Fury, he’d been far from surprised, expecting the call for some time now. The headlines had been almost impossible to avoid, the papers hot on the story of the murders that had been occurring all over Brooklyn. The issue had hardly slipped under Steve’s radar and he’d found himself wondering just why it had taken SHIELD so long to get involved.

Guess he was about to find out.

Nodding sharply at the security waiting outside, he didn’t even knock as he entered, jaw set tight and shield slung securely across his back. Fury was sat at his desk, flipping through numerous files that Steve was sure were a dry read. The captain had quickly grown to realise that people nowadays liked to talk fancy words rather than put those words into practice.

Hands slung in the loops of his belt, he stopped before the desk, eyebrow raised at the Director.

“Nick.”

[thewinter-machine]

Behind the Trigger // Steve and the Soldier

                                                Ice. That’s all there is. Ice.

For the last two days he’d been hunting. Fury was the mission. Fury was taken down. The mission directive had changed — there was a glitch in the system. Something they didn’t anticipate. They only told him location, and the location changed with time. It changed with persona. There were multiples. But his new mission were the few ——

                                                                        His new mission was to destroy Captain America.

Finding the car had been the easy part. After all there weren’t very many get away cars that he could get a hold of. It made the mission that much more simple, his hands gripping his knife as he jumped from the SUV and onto the fast moving vehicle. Knives were always the most handy, his grip tightening as he stuck it straight into the top of the car and cut. Still moving, for as long as the driver remained alive, he reached in and pulled. But it was seconds later that he saw the body of his target roll from the car, his own body flipping off the top of the car before landing with metal scraping against the cement. He felt a piece of the car fall with him, metal bouncing up to crack the screen of his protective glasses. Within moments they were thrown from his face. He didn’t scowl, he just grabbed a gun and began to shoot. It wasn’t wild, and it wasn’t crazy. It was practiced. Well known. A sniper’s training. A spy’s skills. He had already narrowed in on the very obvious shield in the crowd, itching to go in for it. There were others involved, he was certain that the rest of his “teammates" would go after the rest on the Captain’s side, but the Soldier had one mission.              Kill the man with the shield. Destroy him if you have to. And then walk away. Do not wait for the other men to accomplish their goal. Take your gun, and walk away. Do not look back. Let the world mourn the loss of its beloved Captain. Finish your job. The overpass he remained on gave him a good shooting range to hit the Captain, but it seemed the other was better at dodging bullets than he anticipated. He stood on top of the railing, gun in hand, and he jumped to the ground some fifty feet below. His face mask remained as he turned, throwing the gun from his shoulder in hopes of a much closer fight.              His blade was sharp, but his wit was sharper. He could hear him. He swung.

[captains-rogers]

Steve should have seen it coming. Should have known that escaping out of the main city with one of Hydra’s main agents was never going to a simple task. But what he didn’t expect was the shattering of glass as the agent in question was thrown from the vehicle. What he didn’t expect was the grating screech of metal on metal as a knife gutted the roof of the car as easy as flesh. What he didn’t expect was the steering wheel to be tugged from Sam’s grip, forcing Steve to shove his way out of the vehicle, vibranium scraping against tarmac, shoulder jarring painfully.

Staggering up from the ground, the captain barely had time to think before bullets were ricocheting around him, shield lofted above his head as he jumped down off the bridge to avoid the onslaught. He didn’t have time to check Natasha or Sam’s status, didn’t have to time to even pause for breath as the man known to him as the Winter Soldier lined up his shots, firing with killer precision.

And then as Steve turned, they were suddenly together, the glint of a knife swinging past Steve’s head as he instinctually blocked with his forearm. The assassin was strong, the blow sending shock waves up Steve’s arm as he dodged another strike, batting the hand away with trained skill. Rolling back to put some distance between them, he rammed his shield forward in a desperate attempt to knock the knife from the man’s grasp.

[officialmaryjanewatson-blog]

Paint Me A Hero | Mary Jane & Steve

[officialmaryjanewatson-blog]

To say that the woman was fetchingly enticed with the man would have been a complete and total understatement. Her emerald hues weren’t even upon his painting, but rather fixated upon him with vexed interest. She seemed to enjoy listening to him, her eyes taking in every features of his expression — the way that his lips moved, the way that his stare flashed with excitement or how his cheeks flushed with a bashful nature. He was the epitome of a gentleman (not to mention he looked like a cut-out from some 1940s pinup calendar for women). She was pretty sure that torso would come bursting through his shirt at any time, and she was also half as sure that she wouldn’t at all mind! 

But more than his physicality, Mary Jane was genuinely taken by how compassionate, soft and sincere the man seemed in every aspect. Even his voice was calm. She felt completely at ease, lost in his tellings of his younger years and his aspirations of being an artist, and she was no doubt sure that he’d of accomplished it if that was what he had set his mind to. Perhaps though, it was with how enticed she was in their conversation that she hadn’t given much notice to the clearing of the room and the dismissal of class. Not that it mattered, they had sort of ditched out of the later half, opting to just share polite exchanges in the midst of the entire seminar. 

"That’s absolutely absurd," she mentioned lightly, head dipping in a bit of a bashful nature all of her own. His well-mannered charm was potent enough to turn even the saucy red-head into a blushing maiden. "You’re completely fantastic, really." She nodded him on, as though not trying to dismiss her words as mere compliments. "You would have definitely made it — still can, actually.." She shook her head from left to right, "Never think it’s too late to accomplish your dreams, Mr. Rogers." She pressed her lips inward to silence a growing smirk, nodding in his direction as she looked over the edge of his easel toward the instructor who was cutting the two of them a less-than-enthused expression.

Mary Jane reeled back slightly, brows lifting upward. “I don’t think she likes us very much,” she whispered sideways, eyes still upon the elderly woman. “And that’s my fault,” she laughed. “If you hadn’t come to my rescue, I’m sure it’d just be me that she had those looks for.” MJ smiled, clearly not all that upset by it, but rather just making for a friendly conversation. Though she was not at all shy, quite the opposite of Steve in fact, as she lifted a palm to wave in the direction of the professor with a glowing expression about her features. The woman scoffed, turning away instantly.

The girl had no idea that she was speaking with the Captain America. Maybe if she had, things would have gone a bit differently. But as far as she knew, he was a delightfully charming companion with the utmost respect for her that was endearing at best.

Mary Jane rolled a shoulder, her way of shrugging as she had already taken it upon herself to begin collecting his things and filing them away in bags. She held one filled with his brushes out toward him, “Me?” She rolled her eyes at the thought of what she was doing there. “I’m an artist.” She mocked playfully, before adding on, “An actress, I guess.” MJ shook her head, soft smile still upon her lips.

"I’ve a soft spot for anything artsy — though I’m not at all musically inclined," she directed back toward her doodle-like mess with an open palm, the other filing away the paints that he had been using. "And evidently not much of a painter either." She shrugged, not seeming at all bothered by it anymore now. "I just like it, I have an appreciation for art. I do it because it’s fun." She turned back toward him, handing off the second bag with paints toward him. "Who cares if I’m horrible, right?" She smiled, able to make light of her less than skilled abilities.

She was moving back toward her own easel now, filing away her paints and brushes just as she had his. Her brows waggled upward, taking the time to offer subtle brag about something that she was good at. “I’m a much better actress anyhow,” she wore a smug little expression as she tugged the zipper of one bag closed. “You’re looking at the latest spokesmodel for the new Stark Phone, courtesy of Mister Stark himself.” She flashed Steve a wink, her more saucy side retaking her.

[captains-rogers]

Steve smiled, his flush subsiding as he relaxed into MJ's company despite her obvious scrutiny. Being around the redhead felt easy to Steve, the soldier comfortable with her in a way he usually wasn't around strangers. She possessed a grace and elegance and strength along with her biting sarcasm that were familiar to Steve. In many ways she reminded him of Peggy and that alone was enough to warm him to her, the blue of his eyes bright as their gazes met.

He shrugged a little, dismissing her praise as he glanced back at his filled canvas. "I wish I had the time. Unfortunately my job keeps me pretty busy so I don't have much time for extra-curriculars nowadays. Still, it's nice to do something just for fun, just for me y'know?" Steve concluded with a stilted half-smile, and if his tone took on a wistful edge as he spoke, neither of them said anything.

He was relieved for the change in topic as MJ glanced at the teacher, laughing openly as the redhead wiggled her fingers mockingly, his eyes twinkling with a childish delight. Turning away from the instructor to cover his smirk, he playfully swatted at MJ's hand, fingers closing gently around her wrist to prevent her drawing any more attention to the pair. "Stop it! I can't imagine why she hasn't warmed to us." He teased, shaking his head. "Anyway, it's no biggie. I could hardly just leave you to face the beast all by yourself." Leaning in, he nudged their elbows together, a genuine smile lighting up his face.

Arching an eyebrow, Steve watched as the woman started collecting his things, accepting bags as they were handed to him without comment. She didn't even seem to notice she was doing it, chatting away enthusiastically as the class emptied around them, including the instructor. He nodded in interest as he listened, moving to help her tidy away her own work station. "Drawing is the only type of art I've ever been any good at. Although kudos for being able to act. I had a brief stint on stage once that still gives me nightmares." He scoffed, chuckling at the memory of his so-called "performances" of the Star-Spangled Man as he began tidying away her selection of paint brushes.

The already raised eyebrow was matched by it's twin, his expression melting into one of shock and amusement as she revealed her latest career move. "Oh really?" Steve hummed, choosing not to mention his own Stark phone sitting on silent in his pocket. "I hear he's a bit of an ass."

[officialmaryjanewatson-blog]

Paint Me A Hero | Mary Jane & Steve

[officialmaryjanewatson-blog]

With dried paint about the tips of her fingers, she lifted a palm to idly and bashfully brush back the thick red strands of her hair that had fallen to frame her face. He was so kind, his words truly warming her heart — and the tips of her ears! She bit down upon that lower lip, something that seemed to be a very habitual mannerism, especially when she was nervous or thinking about something. Her figure turned slowly, rotating at the hips while her feet still remained planted about the ground. It was that common, sort of shy fidgeting and girlish thing that had been done so often by women in her position before.

"Oh, yeah," she nodded, brows furrowed in over her emerald stare. "That’s totally what I was going for." Brushing the idea off with a noteable air of sarcasm (she was actually making a subtle attempt at humor). "Abstract smiley faces." She gestured out toward her doodle-drawn painting as she referenced it, opting to then retract it as both hands sunk slowly into her back pockets.

Her stare lidded in slight, not out of annoyance or aggravation, but rather to offer a somewhat humorous take on his words. MJ offered the blonde a firm nod, whispering in matching tone, “Thanks for trying.” A grin tugged at the corner of her lips, stare lowering so as not to linger for a longer duration than what would have been common. He was a cutie. Not that it didn’t help his case that he was built like a brick house and seemed to have such a kind and caring heart.

"Steve, right?" She piped back up, not wanting awkwardness to fall in any hole of their conversational exchange. "You’re really nice." She offered the man a warm smile, before her stare was once again drawn to something in the near distance — his handiwork. 

Stepping past him, the paint covered red-head drifted in toward his charcoal sketched easel. “Woah,” she muttered. “Is this yours?” A palm slipped from the back of her pocket, digits pulling at the bottom corner of the page to catch a slanted view of his artwork. 

She turned back over her shoulder, curiously awaiting an answer. “This is really good.” She was too blunt to be anything but honest. Her words were genuine.

[captains-rogers]

Steve watched as a light flush rose to Mary Jane’s face, her cheeks dusted in pink as she bit back with sarcasm. Laughing warmly, Steve waved his hand in a gesture of ‘don’t mention it’, dismissing her thanks as unnecessary. “You’re not as bad as you think.” He assured, supporting his statement with a genuine smile.

The blue of his eyes was bright as they met hers, nodding in confirmation as to his name. He felt his own face flood with colour at the compliment but before he had the chance to answer the young woman was brushing past him, auburn hair flicking over her shoulder. Before he could do anything, Mary Jane was stood in front of his own easel, eyes appreciatively taking in the sketch he’d been working on before.

Wandering over to stand next to her, he felt his blush deepen at her words, shrugging it off. “It’s not my best work. I’ve gotten out of practice recently.” His words were clipped and even though he didn’t say that this was due to the fact that he’d spent seventy years frozen in ice, the implication was thick in his tone. Steve didn’t even know if Mary Jane knew who he was and if she didn’t then he’d rather not let on. Sometimes it was nice to have someone want to talk to him, to want to talk to Steve Rogers rather than Captain America.

Realising he had probably come across as rude, Steve offered her bright smile, apology flashing unspoken in his eyes. “I was actually meant to go to art school, but I couldn’t make it in the end. So I thought I’d get back into some classes instead.” He turned to face her, hoping to divert the conversation away from himself. Whilst Steve enjoyed his art, he’d never been that great at letting people see it, often overwhelmed by awkward embarrassment.

“What about you? What you doing here?”

[connectthemoles]

Fists Up, Kid || Stiles & Steve

Dear Stiles,

Thank you for the letter, it means a lot that you chose to write to me. I’m sure your dad is trying really hard, but you got to be a brave boy for him right now. I’m really sorry to hear about your mom. I lost my mom too when I was a kid, just like you. It was really hard, but then I got to meet my best friend so you got to keep your chin up. I really wish I could but unfortunately there are some things even Captain America can’t do, but I promise I’ll try to help in anyway I can. Make sure to give your mom a big hug and tell her you love her okay? Please write again soon.

Many Thanks,

Captain America.

[connectthemoles]

Stiles held the crisp off-white paper in his hands, blinking at it in slight shock. He sat down hard on the couch, eyes moving over the words. “Captain America answered my fan mail… after, jesus, after like 6 years. Holy shit.” Stiles had forgotten that he had even sent the letter. His mouth twisted and he felt his throat tightening; he’d been such a kid then, thinking that life’s real problems could be solved by a superhero.

The six feet of tightly packed earth and the stone over his mother’s grave had taught him differently. Still, the guy had actually answered, he really was what he looked like on TV, apparently. Heart of gold. 

He ran a thumb over the line about hugging his mother, and sighed, startling slightly when a drop of water smeared the neat writing. He was apparently crying, perfect. “Wish I could…” His voice was a quiet rasp and he sniffed in once, hard as he refolded the letter and stuffed it into his bag. He had somewhere to be, letter or no letter.

——

His worn out sneakers squeaked against the gym floor, and Stiles looked up and around the building with a crooked smile. “Oh yeah, this is gonna be painful.” Stiles chuckled, walking over to a locker and stuffing his bag in. A guy in gym shorts that were entirely too short pointed Stiles towards  the speed bags with a smirk, daring him to try his best.

HE was shown how to tape up his fists, and how to stand in front of the bag, arms up. Then the guy walked off, leaving Stiles alone with the bag, all flailing arms and lack of grace. He was determined to make this work. “Roll your fists, roll em, just like in that youtube vid. You can do this, Stiles.” He mumbled quietly to himself and started over, actually managing to get into a slight groove, grinning. He looked over his shoulder when he heard someone approach and ruined all progress he had made my tripping over his own shoe laces, falling into a heap on the floor right at someone’s feet. "God dammit. Totally meant to do that.”

[captains-rogers]

Steve leaned against the ropes of the sparring ring, watching two young agents dancing around each other, jabbing out ineffectually. The place was fairly quiet, a few people watching Steve with curious interest. He’d made no effort to disguise who he was, the gym small enough that they weren’t likely to encounter any trouble. Although the gym itself was fairly old-fashioned, carrying the bare basics necessary to let people train, it still had its fair share of customers, a couple of new faces Steve didn’t recognise trickling through the door that morning.

Of course S.H.I.E.L.D. had its own training space, much more state of the art than this place. But Steve sometimes liked to bring the soon-to-be agents down to his local gym, preferring the simplicity of it. He felt more comfortable here, like it made more sense to him and that meant he was able to focus, settling into the role of instructor with greater ease. Whilst he never said it, it reminded him of the place he used to go to with Bucky back in Brooklyn, back when he could hardly land a blow, and sometimes Steve needed to be reminded that not everything had changed.

The captain had been making gentle suggestions to the pair currently circling each other when he’d noticed the boy in the corner, making what could only be considered a disaster out of the speed bags. His technique was completely off, hitting the bag somewhat ineffectually, although Steve wasn’t sure he was aware that’s what he was doing judging by the pleased smile on the boy’s face. He reminded Steve of his former self, all over-enthusiasm and zeal but no real method.  The captain chuckled lowly, putting one of the better trained agents in charge before making his way over to the young man, intending to give him some much-needed advice on how to train.

But as he approached, clearing his throat to make his presence known, the boy stumbled over, landing in an ungainly heap at Steve’s feet. Steve couldn’t stop the smirk that spread across his lips, raising an incredulous eyebrow as the boy tried to brush off his clumsiness.

“Course you did, kid.” Steve’s tone was teasing, laughing lightly as he leaned over, reaching out a hand to help the boy back on his feet.

[captains-rogers]

A Friend In Need || Steve & Thor

[notreadytorule-blog]

The Asgardian wanted to enlist the help of his friends not in the way a man chooses something that he prefers at leisure but in the way an animal wants to gnaw off its own leg to get out of a trap. Thor was a genial man, a good man, self sacrificing and genuinely kind, but he was a proud man in equal measure. He prided himself on independence and dealing with difficulties on his own, and when he was younger, had been known to put himself in obvious danger in order to claim the full glory or to face privately any defeat. Showing such emotion and desperation to a man he considered his equal and in some ways his commander was a taboo that he could barely stomach. He wanted to run. He wanted to run so desperately, but some of the tension bled out of his shoulders when his comrade visibly relaxed. 

There was a terrible understanding between them then, and the knowledge of it made his blood run cold. His brother’s life was in his hands, and he knew then further that he would not bring him back to Asgard. If Loki was truly a danger,  he would not drag him back, terrified and pleading, to face the headman’s axe. Thor remembered as a boy those executions, how the people jeered and roared, the lack of privacy. Public execution was the worst dishonor one could face. The shame begun with you dragged out in chains, and although the death was usually fairly quick, it resulted in darkness and nothingness forever. No afterlife. Loki would never see his family again, never join them at the warm halls of warriors. He would be separated from him in death as he was in life. His heart twisted again, hard. 

It was drowned in those dark thoughts that he gazed back at his friend. “I agree,” he said quietly. “They would be able to locate us easily, even with the Man of Iron’s protection. Tony Stark is a friend, and he is a good man, but he is merely a man. He cannot promise us any safety. “ He listened in silence as Steve continued to speak, his brow furrowing slightly. They would essentially be under house arrest because they were physically highly identifiable, but this might be the only way to be sure of Loki’s safety at least for a time. Once his brother was physically more well, Thor would speak to the director and plead for his brother’s life and freedom. He nodded gravely. “I will speak to Loki,” he said quietly. “I think he may agree to it. That is…most generous of you, my friend, I——I have no way to repay you.” His chest was tight, knowing then that he could truly trust him. The crucible of war and hardship had shaped them both and had drew them closer into something that he knew then was true friendship, a brotherhood of choice. “I accept. I might only need it for a fortnight. T—-thank you.”

He averted his gaze slightly. “I…may have told a mistruth, Steven. I have no intention to bring Loki back to Asgard no matter the outcome. He will be killed. It will dishonor him. Terrify him. If Loki’s mind is still far afield…if he has been lying to me…I will need to solve such things myself. But fear not. You will need not deal with him again.” He knew then what he would have to do, and his chest constricted. One swing of Mjolnir and it would be swift, painless, without even the space for fear. He would bring his body back to Asgard, and make certain that he would be sent out as a prince, not as a criminal. He would light the fire himself. The tears came back again. He knew then that his own protective feelings had amplified, and the thought of him felt another rush of something, intense and strong.

“In truth, I no longer know how deep my bias towards him grows.”

[captains-rogers]

Steve let Thor mull the suggestion over, trying to read what was going on behind his friend’s eyes to no avail. Steve thought the Aesir looked almost ashamed, not of himself but of the situation. Ashamed to admit that he needed Steve’s help embarrassed that he couldn’t solve this situation alone. Steve knew a little of what that was like, his own pride often preventing him for seeking assistance when in need. But eventually he saw his friend breaking through those barriers, his defensive guard dropping as he met the captain’s gaze. Steve smiled as Thor accepted his offer, pleased that there was something he could to help his friend.

“I could…I could speak to him as well if you think it would help? I don’t know. Let him know that I don’t mean him any harm?” He didn’t know how well the trickster would take to him, but either way Loki would have to agree to see the rest of the team at some point, especially if they were hoping to convince S.H.I.E.L.D. that the Asgardian was no longer a threat to security. Perhaps if Steve could get Loki to at least trust him, if not like him, then things would be easier when the time came.

The soldier waved his hand in dismissal of Thor’s thanks, lips curled in a half-smile. “Please, don’t mention it. You don’t owe me anything and you’re welcome to stay as long as you and your brother need. We’ll have to be careful moving you in case anyone catches on. We can’t let Fury or S.H.I.E.L.D. suspect anything.”

Steve felt his muscles tighten at Thor’s next admission, jaw clenched. “Thor, what if you can’t control him? What if he gets out of hand?”

The captain felt apprehension unfurl in his chest. He trusted Thor, he truly did. But that didn’t mean that the Aesir was thinking clearly and would be able to do what needed to be done if it came to it. Steve’s fears were almost confirmed with Thor’s final statement, a weight settling on his shoulders.

“Are you sure you can do this? I’m not judging you or putting any blame on you, I just think we need to be prepared for all possibilities. If your feelings for your brother run too deep, are you sure you can deal with him?” Steve tried to say the words gently, not wanting Thor to retract into himself when they’d made so much progress. But the words needed to be said because as much as the Asgardian was Steve’s friend and brother, he had a duty to protect people and he couldn’t let anything stand in the way of him doing that. 

[captains-rogers]

No Retreat, No Surrender || Drabble

Steve sank into the mattress of his new apartment, letting the reality of the past few weeks settle heavy in his bones. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like everything around him was crumbling to ashes beneath his fingertips, one thought constant in time with the beating of his heart.

Bucky.

Bucky.

He touched a finger to his lip, cut still raw but it was good because it was Bucky who had put it there. Bucky’s closed hand on his face. Bucky’s body over his, warm and real. Steve thought he would have fought forever if it meant he could keep touching Bucky, even if it was with his fists.

He played if all over and over in his head. Every moment precious because it was a moment with Bucky he never thought he’d have. Every day since waking up had been a bitter reminder of everything he’d lost. Bucky, Peggy. Until that mask had dropped to the floor, Steve had been utterly alone except now…now he wasn’t.

Even when I had nothing I had Bucky.

Steve felt his chest twist in anguish for everything Bucky had lost. For everything they’d lost together. Two soldiers lost at sea, not caring if they swam or sank as long as they did it together.

I know him. I know him.

Steve had known from the second their eyes had met that he was finally home, that he would do anything to bring his best friend back to him. Somewhere deep in his chest, Steve knew he’d let the whole damn world burn if it meant saving Bucky.

Steve pushed himself up from the mattress, walking over to the window and pressing his forehead against the glass. He thought of war and of blood and of brothers, together till the end of the line. He thought of Bucky, out there somewhere, waiting for Steve because they always found each other in the end.

Not without you.

Not without you.

[peekbelowthesurface]

Introduction

Love

Light

Dark

Seeking Solace

Break Away

Heaven

Innocence

Drive

Breathe Again

Memory

Insanity

Misfortune

Smile

Silence

Questioning

Blood

Rainbow

Gray

Cookies

Vacation

Mother Nature

Cat

Orly?

Trouble Lurking

Tears

Foreign

Sorrow

Happiness

Under the Rain

Flowers

Night

Expectations

Stars

Hold My Hand

Precious Treasure

Eyes

Abandoned

Dreams

Rated

Teamwork

Standing Still

Dying

Two Roads

Illusion

Family

Creation

Childhood

Stripes

Breaking the Rules

Sport

Deep in Thought

Keeping a Secret

Tower

Waiting

Danger Ahead

Sacrifice

Kick in the Head

No Way Out

Rejection

Fairy Tale

Magic

Do Not Disturb

Multitasking

Horror

Traps

Playing the Melody

Hero

Annoyance

67%

Obsession

Mischief Managed

I Can’t

Are You Challenging Me?

Mirror

Broken Pieces

Test

Drink

Starvation

Words

Pen and Paper

Can You Hear Me?

Heal

Out Cold

Spiral

Seeing Red

Food

Pain

Through the Fire

Triangle

Drowning

All That I Have

Give Up

Last Hope

Advertisement

In the Storm

Safety First

Puzzle

Solitude

Relaxation

[wintergaydar]

Send me a number and two characters - get a drabble.

[thcta-deactivated20211114]

-:{ OPEN }:-

                The last rays of sun had disappeared hours ago, but it was likely that the night still teemed with life. Humans had a sleep cycle stuck on fast forward in the city, always staying out so late and rising the next day all the later for it. It was certainly a change from that of the open country spaces he’d been more fond of dwelling in back home.                     And so Kurt had settled in his usual spot, a beam that still held on the highest floor of the gutted building, one next to a shattered window, through which he watched the night. It was rather a nice place to sit of an evening. That was, until he was disturbed.                           It wasn’t very often that people would wander into the place. Usually it was an adventurous teenager he could scare away quite easily, them unable to see him in the shadows. So as the doors were pushed ajar and some one crept in, the mutant kept a very watchful eye from his perch, trying to see their face in the dim light, warped yellow from street lamps and shadows that obscured. 

[captains-rogers]

Steve pushed open the door in front of him, wood easily swinging on its hinges due to its rundown state. Night had fallen long ago, and the derelict building was fully of the inky blackness, except for where light from the streetlamps flooded in through the cracked windows. The whole place felt isolated and empty, clearly having been out-of-use for some time.

Usually S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn’t have sent Steve out on a mission like this, but they’d been running low on available agents and Steve had volunteered after overhearing about it in the canteen. Fury had been less than enthusiastic at first, but eventually agreed to let the captain go check it out, just to make sure. It was just light reconnaissance work, investigating reports of disturbances in the area, a few violent incidents that were perhaps a little outside of the ordinary and that’s where S.H.I.E.L.D. came in.

Steve wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for as he stepped further into the building, eyes quickly adapting to the darkness. There was nothing obviously amiss, but the soldier sensed that there was something not quite right. Steve felt the comfortable weight of his shield strapped to his back, just in case of emergencies, but apart from that he was dressed in civilian garb. Fury had said that whatever was living down there, they didn’t want to spook it, and they certainly didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that they were in the area.

He stood in the centre of the ground floor for some time, glancing at his surroundings, eyes scanning first the floor and then up towards the ceiling. But there was nothing. The entire place was deserted. Steve let out a deflated sigh, resigning himself to the fact that he was going to have to report back empty-handed when a shift in the light caught his attention. Peering up into the rafters of the building, Steve thought he might have seen a patch of shadow that was denser than the rest, a gentle movement that could be something or nothing. Clearing his throat, Steve steeled himself.

“Hello?”

[captains-rogers]

Glad To See You || Steve & Jack

[wannaseeitagain]

Jack’s hand wrapped blissfully around the neck of the bottle of beer as it’s placed in front of him, his back extending backward slightly as he poured the liquid down his throat, the burn feeling so good as the alcohol pressed down through his system. He idly took in his surroundings, noticing that there were more people than he expected at four in the afternoon. Then again this was the city of dreams and for some that meant the city of lost dreams. Even Jack could relate to how that felt more than he’d ever want to.

Steve asked a very standard question, one that Jack was all too familiar with. He’s had enough people watch him breathe back into life to be used to people wondering how he continued to survive. The answer was different for each person. An enemy got a speech about secrets of the trade. A lover got a dramatized version of the truth which changed depending on how far in his own time stream he was. And a friend, like Steve, who came back to him after years of being apart got the real truth because frankly no one else could understand.

He looked his friend in his eyes, seeing the desperation and the desire to understand the unknown that haunts all men out of their time. Jack sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbow against the bar and turn his attention to the other. It felt like two soldiers taking a break from the destruction of the world around them. Picking up where they left off because it’s all they can do. Grateful for the moment where they see each other again. So Jack just smiled a dashing grin.

“I can’t die Steve. Well, that’s a lie. I can die. And it’s bloody painful. Don’t ever try it.” He smirked, averting his gaze to the bottle. He couldn’t help the sinking feeling that his friend would think him a freak. “But the thing is I keep coming back. I’m old. Fuck I’m so old. And I’m tired. And I hate this century.” He sighed and took another swing.

Did he dare take a look to see the horror on Steve’s face? Was it really worth it to the other now to find someone who understood? Because Jack is old. And Jack is tired. And Jack has never been more jaded than the recent lifetimes have made him.

He still loves to love. He still appreciates most things. But how can a man who’s seen the worst do anything more than fake a smile and pretend?

[captains-rogers]

Steve sat, waiting patiently for Jack to collect his thoughts before he answered. When he finally did, Steve sat unblinking, bewildered by the reply that he was given. Out of all the explanations, immortality was certainly not one of them.

“Jack…” It came out as hardly more than a whisper, the shock evident in the captain’s voice. At first it was too much to comprehend, Steve struggling to wrap his mind round the concept that Jack couldn't die, that he always came back. Once upon a time, Steve would have thought it impossible, but nowadays he was willing to believe anything. Then something in him twisted unpleasantly, a hollow ache settling in his chest as the reality of the situation washed over him. Steve might have lost a lifetime, but at least he hadn't had to sit and watch it fade away. He may have spent seventy years in the ice, but Jack had spent it conscious, aware of the time passing and the people he loved leaving him.

Steve couldn't begin to imagine the pain and the loneliness. The soldier imagine watching people he cared about, Peggy and the Commandos and General Philips growing old in front of eyes whilst his own age sat stationary. Even now, Steve was aging, albeit slowly. When they’d pulled him out of the ice, S.H.I.E.L.D. had run some tests on the serum, trying to figure out how he’d survived and had discovered his decelerated aging process. But he would still get old whilst Jack couldn’t die. He was endless and the thought made Steve’s stomach roll, his heart breaking for the man in front of him, who had an almost defensive air about him.

Reaching over, Steve rested his hand on Jack’s arm, squeezing gently.

“I’m so sorry Jack.”

Although the super soldier’s voice was full of sympathy and concern, it also had an endurance to it that came from seeing one too many battles. Even though Steve felt for Jack, he knew that the other man was a soldier, and that he had obviously come out fighting.

Steve nodded in agreement at the captain’s words, eyes downcast, shoulders hunched. Whilst there were many things about this new century he had come to love, Steve still missed his old life more than he ever thought possible, something he knew Jack felt too.

“I know it’s not really any consolation, but, I know how you feel.”

[i-am-gold-titanium-alloy-deacti]

Little More Than a Stark Expo || Steve & Tony

[i-am-gold-titanium-alloy-deacti]

Tony laughed taking no offense to the words and bumped his shoulder against Steve’s arm. “Steven, no one can figure me out,” he proclaimed with utter pride. “So don’t feel too bad about that.”

As much as Tony would claim otherwise, the smile seemed to warm him down to the fingertips and toes merely because it was directed at him. He would never admit it to himself, never mind out loud, but Tony Stark did in fact have a Captain America fanboy phase when he was a child. The remnants of that stage of his life were singing to the Heavens that Captain America had changed his mind about him, gave earned that brilliant smile directed at him. Tony was fortunately able to easily ignore his inner child, but that didn’t stop a smile forming in return to Steve’s. The soldier’s expression was infectious in the worst way, that even Tony could combat the desire to smile back. He managed to bring that smile onto Steve’s face, dimples and all, the only polite thing to do was to smile back at least.

He rolled his eyes at the tease but didn’t throw back his own, instead speaking genuinely. “Well, whatever reason you find yourself using, you’re always welcome to the tower.” His previous smile turned a little crooked and far more real than his charismatic press smiles. 

Clearing his throat, he pulled a chair over next to Steve and spun it so that it was backwards when he sat down, straddling the chair. Resting his arms on the back of the chair he looked back to Steve at the question. Grimacing slightly he shook his head.

"No, no. Don’t tell me your naming him Jarvis Jr.? That’s an insult to both of them. Jarv and this little guy are two very separate entities. The poor mini isn’t a direct miniature of Jay. They may have the same coding for commands and learning program, but the personalities are not the same. Come on, Rip van Wrinkle, you can think of something better than that. How about…" He paused rubbing his fingers over his beard in thought. "Well, how about you name him after someone? Really, anything but Jarvis Junior."

[captains-rogers]

Steve shifted in his seat, rubbing at the back of his neck as he mumbled a half-hearted ‘don’t call me Steven’ under his breath, not that he expected Tony to take any notice. The man took great delight in teasing him with as many ridiculous nicknames as he could find so Steve could only hope that ‘Steven’ didn’t stick. Either way, when he looked up to his friend beaming down at him it was infectious and Steve couldn’t help but smile back warmly.

The super soldier couldn’t help but roll his eyes as the other man pulled up a chair, unsurprised by Tony’s complete incapability to sit down like a normal person would. Steve couldn’t help but laugh at the affronted look on his team mate’s face as he launched into a full-scale assault as to why the new phone couldn’t be named Jarvis Junior. Steve stayed silent as Tony spoke, eyes twinkling with mirth at the other man’s increasing outrage. When he eventually paused for breath, Steve allowed himself to actually let out a bark of laughter, leaning over to pat Tony’s arm in amusement.

“I was just kidding Tony. Although I guess that rules out calling my bike Dum-E the second, right?” The soldier playfully nudged their shoulders together as he spoke, his way of letting the other man know he was just messing around. “But what are we gonna call you huh, buddy?”

He reached over to pick the Stark Phone up again, turning it over in his hands as he thought. Although he knew all of Tony’s robots were only programmed to have their voices and personalities, he still couldn’t help but think of them as real people. Especially JARVIS who had always been so welcoming and considerate the times Steve had ventured over to the Tower. He mulled it over silently, brows knotting together as he considered a suitable name.

He thought through all the names of the people he used to know, but dismissed them almost immediately. It didn’t seem right when everyone he knew in the army was an absolute one-of-a-kind. Besides, this was all about moving on to the future, not looking back. He pressed his finger to the screen distractedly and the phone beeped to life, greeting Steve in the casual slang used by Brooklyn natives. The sound made Steve feel light and carefree and he smiled down at his new buddy with open delight. Then it hit him and he turned to look at Tony with a decisive look on his face.

“I reckon we just found his name right there. Isn’t that right Buddy?”

[captains-rogers]

[In fan letter form] Dear Captain America, I'm Stiles, and I am 10 years old. In class we are writing letters to heroes. At first I was gonna write one to my dad because he's a sheriff and really strong, but he told me he can't do this. My mom, she's really sick. She's dying, I heard the nurse say it. You save lives, right? It's what you always do in the comics and shows. Please, can you save my mom? She's really nice, and makes the best brownies, and I love her so much. Thank you, -Stiles

Dear Stiles,

Thank you for the letter, it means a lot that you chose to write to me. I’m sure your dad is trying really hard, but you got to be a brave boy for him right now. I’m really sorry to hear about your mom. I lost my mom too when I was a kid, just like you. It was really hard, but then I got to meet my best friend so you got to keep your chin up. I really wish I could but unfortunately there are some things even Captain America can’t do, but I promise I’ll try to help in anyway I can. Make sure to give your mom a big hug and tell her you love her okay? Please write again soon.

Many Thanks,

Captain America.

[captains-rogers]

Making Notes || Steve Rogers

-

Steve sat hunched over at the breakfast bar, squeezed unceremoniously onto one of the stools as he frowned down at the notebook, chewing on the end of his pen. He’d thought he’d covered all of his basis, key dates and events, who was the president. That kind of thing. But then Tony had told him he needed to ‘catch up on his pop culture, Capsicle’ and Clint had told him that music didn’t sound quite like the crooners of the 40s anymore and Tasha had just raised a perfectly arched eyebrow when he said he’d never had Thai food and that was how his list had expanded into a full blown novel.

As all good soldiers do, he’d been following his orders, steadily working his way through the list with practiced precision. He’d sat and watched all the Star Wars, old and new, happily eating his way through a carton of noodles. Even though he hadn’t managed to get round to Thai yet, he had a new found appreciation of Japanese cuisine which had been enough to satisfy Natasha. The super soldier had stared with wide-eyed wonder the entire time, proudly announcing that R2-D2 was his new favourite once the movies had ended. Tony had just ruffled his hair gleefully, muttering something to himself about Steve’s bizarre obsession with robots and somehow that had ended up with him adding ‘Trek’ to the list.

-

A few days later, Bruce had wandered into the kitchen early in the morning to find Steve staring at a closed book, face solemn. As he got closer, Bruce could see that the book itself was about the history of the 20th century, including all the grizzly details of the war and beyond that Steve had missed. He swallowed thickly, looking up at Bruce, voice laced with tears as he inhaled a shuddery breath.

“I didn’t know…”

The words trailed off, the rest left unsaid and Bruce had placed a comforting hand on Steve’s shoulder before shuffling to the counter to make them both a strong cup of coffee. If later that evening Steve was a bit quieter as they settled down for movie night, a bit more clingy as he curled up between Natasha and Bruce, nobody said anything.

-

His next few discoveries had been far less harrowing, including the wonders of the microwave and 3D cinema, grin splitting across his face, eyes glinting behind the required glasses and Steve had felt lighter than he had done in months.

-

The captain had continued to obediently jot down everything he heard, every off-hand reference and passing comment, in an attempt to understand this new era he found himself in. He’d made note of Rocky as he overheard Tony and Clint debating about it whilst in the gym, putting Rocky II in brackets as the pair had proceeded to debate about its merits and its failings. He’d scribbled down ‘moon landing’ when he’d encountered a documentary about space travel one day whilst channel hopping. He had also also spent a large amount of time introducing himself to the culinary delights of the 21st century with Thor, and Steve had never been so glad to see real food as he sat squished into a booth at a local diner with the Aesir.

No more rations anymore, Buck. He had thought to himself wistfully, imagining how delighted Bucky would probably be at having a real burger placed in front of him, and to actually be able to afford it. Smiling softly to himself, he had jerked his head in an imaginary toast. Here’s to the future.

-

Some things Steve hadn’t grown so accustomed to, but he was working on it. Despite his team mate’s protestations, Steve still hadn’t stopped wearing his ‘grandpa shirts’ or his ‘old man pants’ and he still sometimes found himself blushing when Natasha showed a little more skin than he was used to. Not to mention there was that one time Tony had walked into the living room to find Steve staring bewildered at the graphic nudity on the TV screen. The captain had turned his gaze to the other man, face hot and words stammered as somewhat explicit moans emitted from the surround sound. Steve had sounded so scandalised when he asked ‘what are they doing’ that Tony had had to sit down.

-

Some things hadn’t changed that much though. Steve still hit the gym every morning, the familiar smell of sweat and leather, the sound of the thud of his hand on the punch bag making him feel at home. He still took his coffee with enough sugar that it could practically be syrup, much to the disdain of his fellow Avengers. He still liked to sketch his team mates when they had a quiet moment, catching the hue of their laughter as they all sat round the kitchen table or the concentrated pull of muscle as they worked out their frustrations in the sparring ring. Steve would still wake up gasping in the night, although this time it was from nightmares of falling and ice and the endless stretch of time rather than a lack of breath and fear of an asthma attack. The captain would still wander the streets of Brooklyn, grinning to himself when he found a shop that hadn’t closed down despite all the years. Once he went out to Coney Island and just let himself remember, glancing up at the remnants of the Cyclone and letting himself bask in the nostalgia. Steve still felt loss and pain, but he thinks maybe the 21st century isn’t all that bad after all.

-

Although Steve was aware he still had a long way to go, as he sat in the kitchen one morning, he felt maybe it wasn’t such a challenge after all. He looked down to where he’d scribbled ‘coffee machine’ and smiled as he crossed it off, drinking deeply from his mug as he waited for his team mates to join him. 

[captains-rogers]

A Friend In Need || Steve & Thor

[notreadytorule-blog]

He had been angry when he had found Loki on the bank, shivering, and terrified and spiteful, like a wounded animal poised to strike. That righteous anger of what his brother had done still burned in his heart and they had slept far apart, Loki taking Thor’s own bed, with the Aesir lying on the couch, stretched out and wearied. He had woken to his screams, terrified, drawn out shouts that pulled him from pure unconsciousness to frightened wakefulness in a few seconds. His heart had hammered, and he shot up, tasting metallic. His hand shot out instinctively, Mjolnir singing into his grip and he felt the strength surge in him, tasted the lightning, rushing into Loki’s room with flashing blue eyes, his arm swinging back, roaring. 

His brother screamed.

Mjolnir fell from his hand, heavily crashing to Earth and he rushed to him as he screamed, Loki twisting in his arms, feverish and frightened. He clutched him firmly to his chest and smoothed his hair, murmuring nonsense as he fought him, feeling his hands like fragile birds flutter, pushing against him, trying to get away. He merely held tighter, not wincing when his nails dug into his skin and finally, he felt his body sag, felt his thin arms go around him, his emaciated chest pressed against his. Tears struck Thor’s bare skin, cold as rain, and he sang a snippet of a sound that he remembered as a child. His mother leaned over them, running her hand gently through his hair, singing a lullaby, soft and sweet. She had given up on waking Loki, and chiding them when she found the toddler in Thor’s bed. The dark-haired boy was never at peace unless he was beside his elder brother, sharing his warmth. He leaned into Loki as he lingered in that place between waking and sleeping, keeping him close. Loki was always so cold.

Thor sang to him and kissed his brow and told him that he loved him, that he cared for him, and the memories of his maddened brother, the furious beast that had nearly destroyed a Realm, fell away. In his honesty, his belief, he never thought that he might have been manipulated, that this might have been another trick. He did not even think of his charge, that this was temporary and the difficult decisions were yet to come. All that he knew was that his brother was frightened and that he needed to to protect him.

His eyes, bright blue, magnified through the field of tears, met Steve’s for a moment. The tears continued to fall, but his face remained still, stoic, the mask of a soldier. He nodded gravely. “I know you will try,” he said softly. “Perhaps, that will be enough. But know that if Loki is telling me a mistruth, if he is truly a danger, and at fault, then he is my responsibility. And I will do what I must.” He swallowed hard. “I know you cannot support me further than you had said, and I—-I do not think your commander will risk losing us as allies.”

He breathed in heavily. “I——I am not safe here. If I do not go to S.H.I.E.L.D., then they will most likely find us, and if they do, we will look like criminals. Tony Stark has offered us a place of safety in the Tower, but I do not think my brother will agree to relocating. He…has no love for you, nor any of my friends here on Midgard.” Thor smiled faintly through his tears, his hand going to Steve’s shoulder lightly, a gesture of camaraderie. “Steven Rogers. The Man of Stars. You are one of my brothers in arms, and I will always be grateful for what you have said today, for I know you will keep your word as best you are able. I will…talk to the others. I mislike it, but I have no choice.” He wanted to tell his teammates not as a man chooses an option from several, but as a trapped animal wished to gnaw off his own leg. 

“But know this. I have…I cannot return to Asgard. Not yet, not while I have committed treason. I could be executed for lying to my Father. By trusting you, all of you, I know that I am risking much. I care for all of you more deeply than I could express. But if Loki is innocent and S.H.I.E.L.D. takes him in, then I will do all that I can to defend him. I do not want to be the enemy of S.H.I.E.L.D. as I believe in much of what they do. But I will defend Loki. As long as I can.”

“If I cannot stay here…where would I go?”

[captains-rogers]

Steve sat unwearyingly as Thor lost himself in his memories, searching his friend’s eyes as he waited for the flashback to cease. Eventually the Aesir met Steve’s eyes again, piercing blue through a wall of tears that tumbled steadily down his cheeks. Steve had never been particularly good at providing comfort, in truth had never had many people cry in front of him, so he sat stoically, allowing Thor time to collect his thoughts. The promise made Steve relax, shoulders visibly sagging as Thor assured Steve that Loki would not go un-punished if this was another one of his games. Although the soldier desperately wanted to believe that the trickster’s story was true, for Thor’s sake more than anything, they could not be blind to all possibilities.

The captain mulled over the conflict Thor presented to him, nervously chewing his bottom lip as he always did when he was thinking tactically. Realistically Stark Tower, although kept highly secure by JARVIS, would not be the safest of places for Thor and his brother to stay. It was too well known to S.H.I.E.L.D. and it wasn’t as if Coulson hadn’t managed to break his way in there before. Hell, it was well known by most of New York and Steve knew that despite Tony’s best intentions, the Asgardians would not be able to reside there for long without getting noticed. Furthermore, Steve didn’t doubt that it would be near on impossible to make Loki do something he didn’t really want to do, so that pretty much ruled out the Tower as a place of sanctuary for the brothers. He smiled as Thor clapped a hand to his shoulder, grasping his friend’s own in return.

“I doubt you’d be safe at the Tower for long anyway. Unless you’re going for the whole ‘right under their noses the whole time’ scenario.” Now that the soldier knew the location of this apartment, it wouldn’t be long before it became known to S.H.I.E.L.D. He felt his features contort into a frown, his last comment sparking an idea that he had not considered before. He glanced up at Thor, meeting his gaze steadily as the half-formed suggestion slipped from his lips before he even realised he was saying it. “What about my place? I stay at the Tower most of the time nowadays anyway so it’s basically empty. And S.H.I.E.L.D. know that so they never bother turning up there unannounced. You’d have to stay pretty concealed, no leaving the house or anything like that and it could only be temporary. I’m sure it won’t go unnoticed by Fury that there’s someone in there eventually, but just until we’ve sorted out a plan of action it would probably be a bit more secure than here.”

Steve knew he was grasping at straws, but his words weren’t wrong. In all the time Steve had stayed at his apartment in Brooklyn, no one had ever come to see him, except Tony which clearly wasn’t an issue. If he reported into S.H.I.E.L.D. when told to then they usually left him alone during his downtime, and if they did need to contact him urgently they usually did it via his cell. Although it wasn’t completely private, the other occupants of the building were fairly reserved and it was probably a lot more incognito than Tony’s gaudy Tower right in the middle of the city. Plus, it wouldn’t look suspicious if Steve were to visit his old apartment from time to time. It wasn’t ideal, but right now it was the best that they had.

“What do you think?”