Jan 2, 2018
[Help] Tub moulding on a mobile home shower/tub combo.
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[Help] Tub moulding on a mobile home shower/tub combo.
Alary: Psh fuck pride
Hideyori: Ew no he's like 5
Tagged by @Kuailong
Rule: Tag 10 people you would like to get to know better.
Birthday: Oct 30
Gender: Genderbender
Relationship Status: taken
Zodiac: scorpio
Siblings: none
Pets: My cat Jack, and my hamster, Yugi
Awake and sleep schedule: 4 AM and usually I sleep early lately it seems to be 7-8 pm.
Love or Lust: love
Lemonade or Iced tea: Iced Tea
Cats or dogs: Cats.
Coke or Pepsi: pepsi.
Day or Night: day.
Texts or Calls: Texts
Met a Celebrity:Johnny Depp, Yura-sama and Seek (ex- Psycho Le Cemu) Hizumi, Zero, Tsukasa, Kayru of D’espairsRay
Makeup or Natural: Natural. I’m still learning makeup.
Smile or Eyes: Eyes.
Light or Dark hair: Dark.
Shorter or taller: Taller
Intelligence or Attraction: Intelligence.
Chapstick or lipstick: Chapstick.
City or Country: Both.
Last Song I Listened to: “Supremacy” By Muse
Supervise me, Hide.
@kuailong
kuailong started following you
HOLY SHIT, CAT, how have you been?!
If Wishes Were Horses. (Or Tony is stressed and Bruce fixes all that is broken.)
Recipient: Kuailong.tumblr.com
Prompt: Tony/Bruce where they struggle to deal with everyday life as super heroes and their unique problems. It takes them a while, but they eventually learn to tackle things together as a team. Science Therapy?
Title: If Wished Were Horses. (Or Tony is stressed and Bruce fixes all that is broken.)
Rated: T
Warnings: Implicit violence, kissing, and mild language.
Word count: 8,845
Genre: Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Angst
Pairing: Bruce Banner/Tony Stark
Characters: Bruce Banner, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Nick Fury, OC’s
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand…”
Bruce was standing in Fury’s office, all black leather and harsh lighting. Ironic Christmas carols drifted in from the hallway. And who would have guessed that SHIELD got into the spirit of the holidays? Certainly not Bruce. Certainly not now.
“Then, please. Allow me to put it in simpler terms.” Though to an outside eye, Nick Fury may have appeared to have a lid on any frustration he may have felt, Bruce was good at reading people, and he could see the annoyance he was causing the man. Not that he minded. Someone had to drive him crazy when Tony wasn’t around. And Fury couldn’t exactly snap at him. “Captain America is attending classes at NYU, Thor is busy doing whatever it is Thor does up in Asgard, Stark is obviously occupied with his—With Miss Potts’ company, and we believe it is in everyone’s best interests if you get a job.”
He blinked. “Barton and Romanoff—“
“Are officially employed here at SHEILD.”
“Director, I have a job. I have my research.”
“Look, Doctor Banner.” Fury leaned over his desk, pacing both palms on the wood beneath him. “This isn’t about you keeping yourself busy. And it definitely isn’t about making money, god knows Stark has enough of that for ten of you, this is about PR. You getting yourself out there so people don’t fear you.” He recited, blunt as ever.
Bruce glanced at the ground, a painful smile on his face. Fury was right. They couldn’t have a monster on the super-secret band of superheroes, so he had to prove to others that he wasn’t one.
“I see.” Bruce did. He had thought that helping to save the world would be reason enough to be a hero, but, he supposed, how painful could getting a part-time job really be?
-----------------------------------------------
Apparently, very. Bruce could still remember the last time he’d scoured the newspaper in search of a job. But he’d been awfully far from the US at the time. His last one had not ended particularly well. No more soda-packaging centers. In fact, he’d better steer clear of all food processing locations. Wouldn’t want a repeat of the blood fiasco from last time.
He pulled out a highlighter and sat back on the couch in the living area of Avengers Tower.
Some start-up church of some sort was looking for an actor to play their mascot. “In your cover letter,” They instructed, “Please include an explanation as to why your soul deserves to be saved.”
Nope. He put a yellow ‘X’ through the ad.
The next few were irrelevant. Lost dog, literacy sirvess rekooiered.
There was a café looking for a new pastry chef.
Two rows to the right of that one, There was a woman looking for a nanny. “Preferably someone foreign,” Her ad said. “I want my two darlings to be exposed to culture.”
‘X’
Below that, a man running some undisclosed business was seeking a masseuse. “High level of experience required,” He wrote. “Our clientele like a certain type of massage in certain… places.”
‘XXXXXX’
He considered for a moment that he may be looking in the wrong paper. He also considered becoming a pastry chef.
He sighed and folder the paper, tucking it under his arm as he stood. “JARVIS, where’s Tony?”
“Mr. Stark is in the lab at the moment, Dr. Banner. As per usual.” The AI responded.
He threw a thank you in the general direction of the ceiling and hit the elevator call button.
-------------------------------------------------
“Why the actual hell—“
“I told you, it’s PR—“
“No, no. Not the job thing. There’s no doubt in my mind that Fury is an asshole. I’m talking about the part where you tried searching for a job in a relic like a newspaper. Who’re you, Steve? We have this great thing called technology.” Tony set aside whatever he was working on (Which looked like it could explode at any moment and—was that smoke?)
Bruce laughed as Tony swiped the “Relic” from his hands and rolled it up, tossing it into the trash basket. Of course that was what Tony would focus on. “Old habits die hard, I guess. Is that… supposed to do that?” He gestured to the device, whatever it was.
“Huh?” Tony glanced at it. “Oh, uh, sure. Here.” Tony pulled up a tablet from the workbench and sat on the bench, typing rigorously. “What type of job are you looking for here?”
“Uh, something with people. Preferably something that keeps most of my dignity intact.”
“Okay.” He scrutinized the screen. “Maybe a professor or something? No, forget that, it’s impossible to get a teaching job in New York City. You could work in some sort of experimental bio lab or something but considering how well that worked out for you last time I’m gonna have to go with ‘no’ on that one.” Bruce scoffed, glancing at the ground. “Gonna be honest, here, Banner. We’re running out of options.”
“It doesn’t have to be something intellectual.” He suggested. “I could do something mindless like flip hamburgers except…”
“Food Processing locations, I got you.” Bruce raised his eyebrows before remembering exactly how much was in his SHEILD file. “Also, I thought you wanted to keep your dignity. McDonalds isn’t exactly congruent to that.”
“Well, what would you do?”
“What?”
“If you wanted to take a break from the intellectual and just do something mindless for a while?”
“…”
-------------------------------------------------------
And that is exactly how Dr. Bruce Banner, the genius/superhero, ended up repairing appliances for GE. But he couldn’t exactly tell her that.
“How exactly did you end up here?”
The girl looked to be somewhere in the range of sixteen, and the only current occupant of the house. She was dressed all in black, but not in any sort of gothic way. It was more professional, and her brown hair was pulled back into a pony tail that completed the look. She delivered the question with all the casual nonchalance of a teenager, just as Bruce was unpacking his ancient windows computer. (It was company policy to keep important programs on company owned devices.)
“Uh…” Long story, he thought. He also thought, Well, youngin’, I’ve always had an affinity for coffee-makers.
“Oh, I’m sorry, that came out—not like I wanted it to. What I meant was how did you end up here? As in my house.” He gave her a clueless look. “See, you aren’t the first guy who’s been through here. There have been two others at least. I’m starting to think this is the stove they assign people to when they’re looking for a reason to fire them.”
“Uh…”
“Oh, I’m sorry. That came out—“ She sighed. “I’m Kira. Kira Elliot. Happy holidays, welcome to our house. Please fix the stove. I’m tired of waiting an hour for coffee.” It was more of a plea than a complaint. He smiled.
“Bruce.” He replied, removing the cover of the stove. The thing was obviously an older model, but looked to have been taken good care of. Checking the last report on the stove, he pinpointed the next step GE had suggested. He pulled out the ‘faulty’ piece of the appliance and laid it on the floor, glancing at the girl. “Are you home alone?”
“Yeah, only for a little while. My ride will be here soon. I’m going to rehearsal, my friend Piper’s picking me up.”
He just hummed in acknowledgement. Upon further inspection, there was nothing obvious to indicate where the damage was. (Scorch marks, cracks, anything.) Maybe, he thought, it was a coding issue? Nevertheless, the big boss-man had only sent him here to replace the one part, so…
“I’m pretty sure mom and dad have given up on GE and have resigned themselves to a stoveless life. My mother has, anyway.”
“Let’s see if we can’t restore their faith.” He said as he tightened the screw on the new piece. Replacing the cover, he turned to the girl. “Wanna give it a try?”
She smirked. “Cocky, aren’t we?” But she stepped forward and hit a button.
Kira smiled knowingly at him as the poor stove gave a feeble beep and an error message.
-------------------------------------------------
Sometimes, Tony wondered whether other people seemed stupid to him because he was a genius, or if everyone around him was just a complete and total idiot. He’d been called in to the Development level of the tower at around four in the morning because of “some sort of equipment failure,” which turned out to be “failure” to plug the thing in. Tony supposed he couldn’t really blame a normal person for making that mistake, after all much of the lab was run through independent energy sources. But these people were building stuff for his- Pepper’s company, and therefore, he concluded, needed to be smart enough to plug in a damn turbine.
One half-hour scolding later, he was all ready to go back to sleep, but the world always needs saving at the most inopportune moment.
“It’s what we do, Tony.” Cap had said.
“Right,” he responded. That and five million other things. He thought. “I don’t dispute that. I do, however, have a problem with what super villains do.” He continued as he repulsor-beamed a Hammer-Droid into a skyscraper. “Or at least when they do. Couldn’t they do it in the afternoon when everyone’s had coffee?”
“Well,” Over the comm, Tony could hear the chuckle in his voice. “If wishes were horses…”
And what the hell was that supposed to mean? If wishes were horses? It was ridiculous, he decided. (And unrealistic. He could, if he felt so inclined, buy a horse. Wishes were another matter altogether.)
By the time they finished kicking ass and Hammer had once again been turned in to SHIELD, it was mid-afternoon. (The Hulk hadn’t needed to make an appearance, which Tony was grateful for. The only thing he hated more than Justin Hammer was the tight look on Bruce’s face post-Hulk-out.)At which point he finally received all of Pepper’s angry texts. Apparently, saving the world wasn’t a good enough excuse to miss board meetings.
(It hadn’t been a good enough excuse to miss dinner dates, either, which was probably why they stopped having those... And everything.)
When Tony made it back to the apartment level, he was just about ready to take a shower, have a drink, maybe check on how Bruce’s latest breakthrough was breaking through and curl into a ball under his very expensive blankets and sleep for an eternity. (Or at least until the nightmares started up again.)
Except, when the elevator doors opened, he didn’t find the solitude he’d been seeking.
“Phil.”
“Mr. Stark.” Coulson said, dry and professional as ever. Tony hadn’t seen Phil for months after the battle of New York, none of them had. Then suddenly there was a new superhero, and conspiracy theories, and SHIELD had Coulson leading this new team. It was only a matter of time before the Avengers found out. The first thing he’d thought, and the first thing he’d said, when they were finally face-to-face was “What the actual hell?” (“Tahiti.” Coulson had explained. “It’s a magical place.”)
“How’re the kids? Still fighting evil?”
“Something like that. They have made for some pretty amazing stories. Which I would tell, but unfortunately, I’m pressed for time.” He slid a file out from under his arm and placed it on the counter, having obviously learned his I-don’t-like-being-handed-things lesson.
“Last time you showed up here to give me one of these fancy SHIELD files, I had to fly a nuke into space.” He complained, pouring himself a drink. “And this time it’s not even electronic. Careful, Phil, you’ll be the death of me.”
“Promise?” Coulson smirked.
After a long sip, Tony flipped open the file with a single finger and set down the glass. Inside were blueprints for what appeared to be some sort of vault, but the device was not the remarkable thing about the pages. As he started to unfold them, the edges seemed to reminisce upon years of wear and tear. At least forty years, by Tony’s estimation. Which meant…
His hands froze half-way through the action.
“Is this…?” Finding the bottom right corner, the name imprinted there nearly made him do something stupid. (Like run.)
“Howard Stark started work on this particular project not long after founding SHIELD with Margaret Carter.” Coulson explained. “He never got it to work, which wasn’t really of any consequence, as we haven’t had any use for it anyway… until-“
“Until artifacts from alien invasions, magic Asgardian Harry Potter wands, and superheroes whose blood samples could mean the end of civilization?” He supplied, deadpan.
“Essentially.” Coulson agreed. “But even now, no one seems to be able to build it successfully. Some previous attempts have proved… difficult.” Tony got the idea there was another word he went to use. Some terrifyingly redacted word like “fatal.”
“So you want me to build you a… a what? A vault?”
“A safe.” He said.
“A safe.” And upon closer inspection of the pages, that was exactly what it was. “Which sounds simple until you get to the part where it controls everything within from temperature to state of matter and…” He squinted down at the failsafe detailed in the blueprints. “Explodes.”
“Fury is hoping you’ll be finished by the end of the week.” Coulson started towards the elevator doors.
Tony’s laugh was more of a huff than any sort of chuckle. “Even at Christmas, nobody ever gets a break over there, do they?” Coulson didn’t respond. “And did Fury say what would happen if I refuse?”
Coulson’s step faltered ever so slightly. “…No.” And with that he was gone, swallowed up by the metal doors and out of sight.
“Of course not.” Tony sighed, mind half way between accepting his fate and working on the problem at hand. He folded the blueprints and headed for the lab.
------------------------------------------------
“So, how’s the job?” Tony asked as he plopped himself on the couch next to Bruce with an unnecessarily gigantic bowl of popcorn. (The two of them never finish the bowl between them, but sometimes Steve or Thor joins them, in which case, they need at least two more bowls.) He swung his legs up on Bruce’s lap because it was “easier to share the popcorn this way! Duh,” As he told Bruce on their first movie night.
He considered explaining the situation with the unfixable stove, but decided against it. “Mostly well,” he responded after a moment’s thought. “Believe it or not, most solutions consist of a system reboot and not much else.”
“Oh, I believe it.” He said- probably from experience, Bruce thought. “Mindless enough?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good. Awesome.” He grabbed the remote from the table. “Let’s watch something Christmasy.”
Kermit the Frog and Tiny Tim hadn’t even made it home before Bruce felt a weight settle on his shoulder. He glanced down to see a mess of brown hair and sleeping genius. And he smiled, wrapping an arm around Tony’s waist. (To make sure he didn’t slip away, god knows he needs the sleep.)
--------------------------------------------------------
“Back for more, Mr. Bruce?”
He smiled as Kira opened the door for him and made a grand, sweeping gesture to the stove. He brushed snow off of his uniform and settled down on the tiled floor to check his ‘Dinosaur.’ (That was the name Tony had given his Company Windows Computer.)
“I suppose so.” He lamented with a mock sigh. “Has the patient’s condition improved?”
“No, Doctor.” She said, adopting a British accent. “The Mister and Missus of the house have nearly given up hope!”
“But Miss Elliot,” He said. “There’s always hope.” He started work on the stove, pulling out his screwdriver and removing the stove cover. She scoffed. “Still the only one home?”
“You know it!” She exclaimed, as if he’d asked if she’d won a Tony.
“Still waiting for Fiddler?”
“Piper. Her name is Piper, and she’s super cool.”
“Because she can drive?”
“Exactly. Because she can drive me to rehearsal.”
“What do you rehearse, anyway?”
“What do we rehearse?” She gasped in fake affront. “Why Mr. Bruce, we rehearse only the greatest musical known to New York City.” He gave her a look, the Which would be…? Going unsaid. “It’s a Wonderful Life.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a movie?”
“Yes, and it’s also a musical.” She explained. “We perform next week. You should come see it!”
His hands stilled. The invitation was surprising and amazing and terrible all at once. It was surprising until he realized Kira didn’t know who he was, amazing until he remembered who he was, and terrible that he’d have to say no.
“Hello? You in there, Mr. Bruce?” She had her head tilted quizzically to the side. “You don’t have to come. It’s okay if you’re busy or going out of town or something. You’re probably really busy with your job and stuff, so. Yeah. Don’t worry about it.”
“Uh…”
The phone ringing seemed to be a blessing. Kira pushed herself off the counter and jogged to it, yelling “I got it!” as if there was anyone else in the house. She checked the number and sighed, picking it up. “Hey, dad. No… yeah. Piper’s picking me up… No, she’s the one with the brown hair. She was the Beggar Woman in Sweeney Todd? …No, that’s Kathryn. Right, well, anyway… Uh…” She turned and glanced at Bruce, who was trying his best to not pay attention to the conversation. Or to, at least, not look like he was paying attention. “Yeah, he is. No, you can’t… But-“ She took a breath. “Fine.” She walked over to him and covered the mouthpiece of the phone. “He wants to talk to you.”
Bruce took the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hi, yeah, this is Mr. Elliot.”
“Hello, Mr. Elliot, I’m-“
“The GE repair man, I would hope.” The man’s tone spoke of utter frustration and anger. “Listen, that stove has been out of commission for months now. When is your company gonna just replace it? The relatives will be here for the holidays and we’re gonna need to be able to cook for them.”
“I’m sorry, Sir, I’m not responsible for determining-“
“Yeah yeah. Well, you talk to your supervisor about this. I am inches away from-“
The man went on and on. Eventually Kira took pity on him and took the phone back. “Dad, chill. He’s doing the best he can. I’ll see you later.” And with that, she hung up and replaced the phone on the counter. “Sorry about him.”
“No, no, that’s fine.” He comforted, pulling out the new part. “He’s understandably upset. Family does that.”
“Yeah… They do.”
The next few moments passed in companionable, slightly awkward silence. He screwed the cover back on and brushed some dust off his pants. “Okay. This time for sure.”
She approached the stove and, with a flourish, pressed the on button.
If stoves could whimper, that’s definitely the noise it made.
Kira sighed. “Still nothing, I guess.”
----------------------------------------------------
“Mr. Stark?”
He didn’t know exactly how much time had elapsed since he’d started work on the safe, but if time was measured in coffee, it would have been 7 cups since he’d last closed his eyes. And wow, what an idea, measuring time elapsed by coffee consumed. There’s real potential behind that one, he should get on that before someone steals his idea. Again.
“Stark?”
The wires and gears that usually clicked in his mind now just seemed jumbled and random, and if there’s one thing Tony hates, it’s random. Random is just an order he hasn’t discovered yet, like magic is just physics that isn’t taught in high school. And magic, wow, he hates magic even more than he hates random, but if he could borrow some from Doctor Strange just to make these wires and gears less random, he’d do it in a heartbeat.
“Tony.”
This time the voice was accompanied by a hand on his shoulder and he jumped and dropped his… whatever he was holding. “What?” He snapped.
Steve didn’t even flinch. He looked taller than usual, though whether that was because Tony was still hunched over the workbench or because he was exhausted was anyone’s guess. “Are you okay?” He seemed genuinely concerned, which was mildly confusing.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Why would I be anything other than fine? I’m always fine…” He trailed off.
“You’ve been holed up in here all night. Bruce had that look on his face. You know, the one he gets when he worries.”
“He always worries.” Tony said, a vaguely affectionate smile on his face. Bruce was a worrier, after all. Tony really couldn’t blame him, after everything he’d been through, for being afraid to lose people.
“Yeah… He was gonna come down himself, but he had to get to work, so I offered to check on you.” Steve explained, eyeing him quizzically.
Tony nodded, rubbing his eyes. Maybe he should be surprised that his friends scheduled who would check up on him and when, but his entire life was planned and scheduled, so he supposed friendship needn’t be any different. “Well, I’m good. You can go back to rescuing kittens from trees now.”
“I don’t…” Steve eyed the coffee cups scattered around the work bench and his eyebrows knitted together in that confused-puppy-dog way they do when he’s at a loss. “Maybe you should take a break, Tony.”
He sighed. Considering that, really, he had nothing to prove. (Not that anyone would believe him if he proved it.) “Yeah. I’ll go up and get coffee in a minute.”
“Or maybe a nap?” He laughed, smiling, but his eyebrows still had the same puppy quality.
“Maybe.”
“What are you so busy with down here anyway?”
“It’s… uh…” Tony eyed the scattered pieces of metal and wire in front of him. Seeing the screwdriver- and oh, that’s what it was- that he’d dropped in the mess, he went to pick it up, but his had brushed against a wire, which moved it a millimeter- enough towards one of the central panels to make the entire mess start sparking in a unnervingly uncontrolled way.
“Whoa, hey!” Steve exclaimed as Tony nearly tripped over the bench in his rush to back up. The sparking only lasted a few seconds, but by the end of it, a pile of charred, useless scrap was all that was left of the partial safe.
At that point, Tony could only manage slightly disgruntled numbness towards the lost progress. “Oops. Guess I’ll have to start over, then.”
“What the heck?”
“There’s got to be some kinda power source that won’t destroy itself when activated.” He mused.
“Okay, listen.” Steve said firmly, taking hold of his shoulders and wow, that’s definitely the Captain America voice coming out, there. “Whatever that is, it can definitely wait a few hours. You need to be in… well, if not good shape, at least better shape than this,” he indicated Tony’s day-old clothes and dark under-eye bags. “in case we get a call to assemble.”
He raised an eyebrow, lips tight. “No offence, Capsicle, but I’ve won in worse shape than this. With less sleep and less back-up, so I’m good, really. You can go now; you have done your duty.”
“Done my-“ He huffed. “You can be a real jerk. We’re trying to help you, Tony.”
“Yup.”
“But you make it very difficult.”
“Yup.” He said. And, in response to the exasperated look he got, he sighed. “I’ll take a break when I can.”
And, to make it very clear to Steve and the world that this conversation was over, he walked purposefully back to the bench and began sorting the charred mess into things that were usable and things that weren’t. Steve stood there for a moment. Tony gave him a look.
“You know,” Steve said softly, “You’re a part of this team now. It doesn’t have to be Tony Stark versus the world anymore.
And it was funny- in the least funny way –how that statement was simultaneously the one thing he believed and total bullshit.
-----------------------------------------------
“I just never know where I stand.” Bruce confided. “I mean, Kira’s great but her father seems to want nothing to do with me.”
“Well, I’m proud of you.” Tony joked through a mouthful of popcorn. “Takes balls to befriend a teenage girl and lose neither your mind nor your masculinity.”
Bruce snorted and swatted at one of the feet hanging off his lap. “Stop. She invited me to come see her show.”
Tony hummed, browsing their collection of Christmas movies. “Are you gonna go?”
“No, I don’t think so.” He skimmed the list of films in front of him.
The remote fell to his side and Tony looked at him. “Why not?”
“She barely knows me! I’m sure she wouldn’t have invited me if she knew who I really was.”
“Who you really are?” Tony repeated. “I wouldn’t be so sure, big guy.” The smile he gave Bruce was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. He smiled back. And then, looking back at the screen, Tony said “How about Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer?”
Half an hour later, as he was shifting his sleeping friend, (so that he wouldn’t get a kink in his back, he knows how much Tony hates that.) Bruce thought that he could definitely get used to this.
---------------------------------------------
“Listen, at least three different repairmen have been to our house on twelve separate occasions and all of them failed to fix our stove! It’s been months! How long is it going to be until you just buckle down and replace it?” The man was saying. And had been saying for the past twenty minutes. Apparently, Mr. Elliot had come home early to speak with ‘the repairman’ personally. He’d arrived a few minutes before Kira had to leave for rehearsal, (and the tight, pained look on her face as she stood silent against the wall of the kitchen made him want to punch something) and mere moments after Bruce’s latest failed attempt at fixing the stove.
“As I’ve said before, it isn’t up to me to decide-“
“Then find out who the hell’s in charge!” The man was positively obtrusive. He seemed to take up a good quarter of whatever room he inhabited. His aggressive hand motions didn’t make him seem anything other than angry.
“I would gladly give you-“
“A new stove?!”
“…My supervisor’s number.”
“Yeah, fat lotta good that’s gonna do.”
Bruce pursed his lips. “Look, sir, there really isn’t anything else I can do.”
The man scoffed, crossing his arms. “You’re bloodsucking, you know that?”
Bruce’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“Bloodsucking, moneysucking monsters, that’s what you and your corporation are!”
He froze. “…Monsters.”
“Dad.” And suddenly Kira was there with a hand at her father’s arm, kind but firm. “Would you like to go upstairs and cool down?”
For one terrifying moment Mr. Elliot looked so angry Bruce was worried he would hit his daughter, but then he exhaled and it was as if half his mass deflated. “Yes. I think I better.”
“Okay.” She kissed his cheek. “Love you.”
The two hugged and Bruce said nothing. After the man left for the hall, Kira turned to him, one elbow in each hand. The silence stretched on like the summer—long and uncomfortable. Bruce realized vaguely that he didn’t actually know a lot about this girl or her family, but for one reason or another they were comfortable round each other.
“I’m so-“
“Don’t be.”
“You aren’t monsters, any of you.” The passion was evident in her voice. Bruce just nodded, lost in thought. He picked up the ‘dinosaur’ and packed it away along with his other tools. “You aren’t!”
“You don’t know anything about me.” He said simply. No anger, no sadness, just matter-of-factly. “You don’t know anything about me. How can you be sure?”
“I am sure… Dr. Banner.”
He dropped his bag. He heard a crack and distantly thought Oops, computer. But he was too focused on Kira’s words to really take notice. “You…”
“Knew?” She gave a nervous giggle. “Of course I knew... I was getting coffee with some friends when the Chitauri attacked. We were trapped in one of the café’s and…” She cut herself off. “Well, you know. You saved us. You and the Avengers... I remember your face, I know who you are. At least enough to tell you that you aren’t a monster. You’re a hero.” She shrugged, as if this was all obvious.
“But you didn’t see me.”
“It was you.” She said. “You saved all those people. No monster would do that. My dad, though… He didn’t know.”
Wondering if this is what it felt like to have the world turned on its head, Bruce blinked. Here he was in front of someone who considered him a hero because she knew who he was, and a few doors down the hallway from someone who considered him a monster because he didn’t. And suddenly it made perfect sense to him. People were flawed and censorious, and would pass judgment no matter what. Bruce was what he was: a monster, a hero, a man. And others got to choose how they saw him. But he could also choose how to see himself. He shook his head a bit to try and clear the fuzz.
A car horn sounded from outside. “That’ll be Piper, I guess…” Kira picked up her backpack and took a few hesitant steps towards the door. She stopped in the doorway. “Mr. Bruce?”
He looked up and she was smiling. “Yes?”
“Merry Christmas.”
-----------------------------------------------------
Tony had 32 hours to magically turn the decades-old blueprints into a usable safe for all of SHIELD’s little keepsakes, and he was pretty sure it was impossible.
Well, okay, no, he was a genius, so obviously it wasn’t completely impossible. In fact, with some tweaking, he managed to make the design function properly. Its impossibility was not the problem. The problem was that the only solution he could come up with involved using Arc Reactor technology, and there was no way in hell he was gonna give them that. He knows all too well what SHIELD would do with Arc Reactor tech.
But save for an Arc Reactor, he’d need some kind of perpetual motion machine to make this thing function indefinitely without having to be plugged into a wall, or have the batteries replaced every few months. Something told him Fury wouldn’t be pleased with anything like that.
But he couldn’t- hecouldn’thecouldn’thecouldn’t- let them get their grubby hands on something that powerful. And he couldn’t trick them either. Fury would want to know details, and… Even if he could trick them, they were bound to find out eventually.
He was starting to lose faith. Which was mildly surprising, he didn’t know he’d had any to begin with. And who knows, maybe he could just go up to Mr. Eye-patch (And he must be tired if he can’t come up with a better nickname. Heh, NICKname. Oh, god.) and say, “Sorry, Nick. Not possible. You’ll have to just keep storing your porcelain unicorns in your easily hackable top-secret vaults.”
Except he couldn’t. Absolutely not.
He released a breath that was half frustration and half hopelessness and all sigh. After taking down DoomBots and Hammer-Droids and Lokis (multiple), it would, of course, be his own failure to deliver that would ruin everything.
“Shit.”
And now here he was wishing Pepper hadn’t left- that Rhodey didn’t have to be an ocean away- that Bruce would have some excuse to come see him. That he could just tell Bruce everything. Bruce was the smartest person he knew; maybe Bruce could even solve the problem.
Maybe Bruce could solve all the problems, he thought. But that was just wishful thinking.
If wishes were horses…
He nearly laughed out loud when that thought struck him. That was one wish he could never have.
If there was one thing Tony regretted above everything else, every time, it was falling in love. Because it never ended well.
He lifted his head. The prototype was sitting there, staring at him, complete except for a power source. And it was enraging. He wanted to smash it into a thousand or more pieces. But that would be extremely counterproductive, so instead he clicked together the last few pieces of his brand new, patent-pending, Stark battery. (And that was a name he’d be working on later.) And, gently, connected it to the back panel of the safe…
Nothing happened.
He felt his eye twitch. He rose and stood behind the thing. On one side. On the other. Nothing. No reassuring “I’m on” humming, no catching fire, no anything.
Then he punched it. Kicked it. Still nothing.
He sighed and plopped down in front of it. And flicked the handle with one finger.
And then he was flying across the room.
----------------------------------------------------
Bruce didn’t fear for his own life, he hadn’t been that naïve since before his brush with suicide. If by some miracle he did manage to die, he might even consider that a blessing. Maybe. It definitely would have been a blessing before he found a family. But now, well, he’d like to stick around to at least keep them from destroying themselves. Regardless, as no such miracle had been presented, Bruce did not fear for his own life. He did, however, fear for the lives of his friends.
Which was the reason he found himself running towards the explosion.
He had been immersed in some complicated equation in his lab when his work was interrupted by a boom followed by a crash. He sprinted next door to see that the room was filled with smoke. He grabbed the tables by the stairs and broke one of the glass panels.
He was moving before he even realized he needed to.
“Tony!”
He crossed the room, searching frantically. Finally the haze seemed to clear. (Though whether it was the one clouding his mind or the room, he didn’t know.) He spotted a figure on the ground, a few feet from the blackened mess that he assumed was the cause of the explosion. He immediately collapsed beside his friend, planting one arm on his waist and leaning over him. Though it had felt like years, it must have only been a split second.
Tony pushed himself up on one elbow, moving the other to cover his mouth as he coughed. Bruce watched him carefully all the while. After a moment, Tony looked up, noticing his friend in such close proximity.
“Hi.” The word was drawn out, almost questioning.
“Hi?” Bruce’s brain was working at a thousand miles a minute, (and he hated that analogy, brains don’t work in distance) but giving him nothing. He didn’t move from his protective position. “What…?”
He muttered something about… horses? And said, “Mild calibration issue,” as if discussing the finer points of a Nerf gun. “You, uh…” He reached out is hand, towards Bruce’s face, and for a moment Bruce thought he might caress his cheek. Instead, Tony took his glasses off his face, scrutinizing the lenses. “You have a bunch of crap on your glasses.”
There was a beat of silence and Bruce laughed, letting his chin fall to his chest. “Yeah.”
He watched his fellow scientist stare at them a moment before attempting to clean them with the hem of his t-shirt. His oil-covered t-shirt. “I’m just… Yeah, no, I’m just making this worse, aren’t I?” Tony sighed deeply, murmuring something that may have been a curse, and let the glasses fall to his lap. “Oops.”
Finally catching up to his brain, Bruce sat back on his knees, and the smile fell from his face. “Mind telling me what just happened?”
“Well.” Tony shifted to sit cross-legged across from his friend, still observing the lenses in his hands. “There was a bunch of smoke and soot and shit, and then you came running over here, and it got on your glasses.”
“No.” Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not talking about the glasses; I’m talking about the part where you almost got yourself killed.”
“Mm.” Pausing, he looked up, meeting Bruce’s eyes for the first time. “It’s… malfunctioning.”
“I gathered.”
He sighed, rubbing at his face with the hand that wasn’t occupied with Bruce’s glasses. “It’s for SHIELD. It’s supposed to be a kind of vault.”
“An exploding vault?”
“…Yes?” He groaned, frustration evident in the way he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s supposed to destroy its contents when broken into, but the power core is too sensitive. Instead it just… explodes.” He waved a hand at the blackened mess of wires and metal, as if he could make it function properly just by willing it to.
“Then why can’t you just change the core?”
“It’s not that simple.” He said, agitated. “I created this core especially for this, and the only source that might actually work is the Arc Reactor and they can’t have that!”
“No, they can’t…” That seemed awfully suspicious, but there were other, more important things to attend to right now. Bruce took in his friend’s disheveled state, the darkness under his eyes that was unrelated to the soot on his face. “How long have you been working on this?”
Tiredly, Tony looked up at him. “What time is it?”
In other words, too long.
“Come on, you should sleep on it. I’m sure it’ll all make sense in the morning.”
“Yeah, sure, that’d be great.” He said sarcastically. “Unfortunately, it needs to make sense now. Fury wants it in 32…” He glanced at his watch. “Shit, 31 hours.” Tony stood up, glasses still in hand, and went over to the monstrosity that was once a machine.
“So, tell him to wait.” Bruce stood and followed his friend. Since when did Tony Stark respect authority? Last time Bruce checked, the engineer was more likely to bug SHIELD headquarters than do their bidding.
“You don’t get it.” His voice was rife with emotion that Bruce couldn’t quite recognize.
“What?” Tony didn’t turn away from the machine. “Tony, what don’t I get? What am I missing here?”
“Bruce, listen, they barely want me on the team.” He snapped. “They told me themselves. If it was up to SHIELD, I’d still be on my own. The only reason I’m here is because someone’s got to cover the check and Fury doesn’t wanna put a dent in the budget. They don’t--” He stopped, taking a breath. “You guys are all I have left. I’m not going to lose you because I can’t figure out how to make Fury’s glorified treasure box.”
Bruce was quiet a moment before the weight of the words sunk in and he felt vaguely sick. “Tony… You can’t honestly believe that.”
“’Iron Man: Yes. Tony Stark: Not recommended.’” He quoted. “Straight out of the file.”
“We need you. On the team. Do you really think the Avengers could exist without you?”
“SHIELD Does!”
“I’m not asking what SHIELD thinks.” Bruce said, maybe a bit too harshly. “I’m asking what you think.”
Tony sighed, (And it was the worst thing Bruce had ever heard) and muttered, “I have to get back to work.”
And that was when Bruce decided if he could be anything—He would be a hero.
--------------------------------------------------
While standing in Fury’s office, Bruce could only remember feeling nervous. He considered that he may have still been nervous, but it was barely detectable under everything else- Anger, first and foremost, then determination, mixed with protectiveness and, strangely, predictably, wonderfully, love.
He settled on one of the plush office chairs and waited, a rare calm smile on his face.
“Doctor Banner.” Fury said as he entered the room. “To what do I own the pleasure?” Bruce pointedly ignored the sarcasm.
“I know what you’re doing.” He stated simply. “After Tony told me about his latest problem with your blueprints, it wasn’t really that hard to figure out.”
Fury calmly strode to the chair behind the desk and took a seat, folding his hands menacingly on the desk and leaning forward. “It would be in your best interest to stay out of classified SHIELD business, Doctor-“
“And it would be in yours to listen. And listen well.” Bruce said, with a little more force than necessary, which, he felt, was necessary. “This safe of yours? It was all a plot, wasn’t it? To get ahold of the Arc Reactor.”
“That technology could be used to destroy entire civilizations, so excuse me if I-“
Bruce stood, interrupting him with his words and body language. “And he’s devoted his life to keeping it out of the hands of those who might want to weaponize it. Including you.”
“So.” And Fury’s voice was all malice. “You’re going to be fighting his battles now? Didn’t see that coming, Doctor Banner.”
“No.” Bruce was amazed at how calm he was. “I’m not.”
“Then what exactly did you come here for?” He asked, anger slipping into his tone.
“A promise.” He crossed his arms. “I understand that SHIELD is vital to the Avengers Initiative, but I want you out of our personal lives. And that includes Starktech. All of your meddling is making me very very…” he paused as Fury’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “Upset. Because Tony is my best friend. He means a lot to the others, too. And Director?” Bruce leaned in. “We take care of our own.”
“I could kick you off the team!” He snapped. “You and your…” He seemed to search for the right words. “Science life partner! I have the upper hand. I could ruin you.”
It was funny how much an agitated Nick Fury reminded him of Mr. Elliot. And maybe that was how he found the strength to remain totally unfazed- this was just another person who didn’t know anything about him.
“But you won’t.” Bruce said. “Because I talked to Steve.”
“You-“
“Talked to Steve,” He supplied. “And Thor and Clint and Natasha.” He didn’t say “Cap” or “Widow” or “Hawkeye,” because those weren’t the people he talked to. He had spoken to his teammates as people, not superheroes. After all, behind every superhero, there is a hero, and behind every hero, there is a Person. “And they all agreed with me. You get rid of one of us, you even think about it… and we all go. Or at least secede from SHIELD. And that isn’t what you want.” He narrowed his eyes. “Is it?”
He knew very well that Nick Fury thrived on being in control. When it came right down to it, he could never control the Avengers, but Bruce threatened to take away every inch of the illusion that he did.
Fury’s mouth was tight and he was shaking with anger, but he managed a tight “No.”
“Good.” Bruce said. “And by the way, did Coulson know what the purpose of the safe was?” Fury’s averted eyes told what his lips did not. “Didn’t think so.” Bruce smiled. “Now who has the upper hand?” Bruce heading for the door. He was just about to exit before remembering and tossing behind him “Oh and by the way, I’m quitting my job.”
-----------------------------------------
12 hours. Time was running out. If Tony had been a weaker man, he definitely would have just given up and handed SHIELD the safe running on Arc Reactor tech. Maybe even with a giant red bow because, hey, they finally beat him into submission, they deserved it. At some point he’d taken a long enough break to move a bunch of mugs to another table, and he was very proud that he’d only broken three of them.
He had reached the wall. It was one of the only times he’d ever reached a wall he hadn’t been able to climb over… or squeeze under… or blow up. And he was starting to come apart, fall apart. Now, he was sitting, staring at another prototype with another open space in the back panel.
A hand touched his shoulder, so gently that it didn’t even startle him. He looked up and met Bruce’s smiling eyes before turning away to rub his own. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”
“I quit my job.”
“What? I thought you liked your job.” Bruce nodded, and moved his hand to the back of Tony’s neck.
“Hm. But I don’t need it anymore.” Tony looked at him, confused. “It was… I just finally figured out who I want to be. No more tip-toeing.”
“Huh?”
“I talked to Fury.”
“About?”
“You.”
“What?” a strike of fear rippled through him. “No, wait, what? You-“ The air suddenly seemed thin. “Am I-? Did he-? Oh, god, No. No, no, no. I can’t lose you. I don’t have anything left to-“
“Tony, no, wait. Hey!” He sat down next to him so they were facing each other and took both his shoulders in his hands. “Hold your horses.”
“I don’t have any horses.” He said miserably, leaning his head on Bruce’s shoulder.
“You’re not off the team. At all. Actually, that’s not something you need to worry about ever again.”
“What?” He ask half-heartedly.
“I talked to Fury.” He began. “And he promised no one was getting off the team.”
“And you believe him?”
“No. I believe that he’s afraid to lose power. And I believe that he believes what I told him. You should believe that, too, by the way.”
Tony lifted his head slightly to meet his eyes. “And what’s that?”
“We stand together.” He said firmly. “All of us. One of us goes, the others do too.”
“So you’re saying…”
“None of us are going anywhere except by our own volition. Not you, not me, not anyone.” Bruce explained, winding his arms around his friend’s back. “Someone should have done that ages ago.”
“So you’re saying…”
“There’s nothing to worry about. Fury isn’t getting his hands on the Arc or anything you don’t want him to.”
“So you’re saying I can destroy the safe?”
Bruce met Tony’s eyes and not a minute later, the damn thing was sitting on the floor of the workshop on top of a tarp. Both of them had sledge hammers in their hands. Tony swung first, delivering a crippling blow right through the back of the thing. (It was only a small dent, but it was sooooo satisfying.) Then Bruce raised his up over his head and slammed it into the top with a grunt.
Their eyes met again. What followed could only be described as a frenzy of desolation. Tony had never been happier than when he looked up from his latest blow and saw a pile of scrap. Bruce had a similarly crazed, joyous smile.
He dropped his hammer on the pile, laughing. “I cannot believe we just-“
“I know.”
“Because I-“
“I know!”
“And you-“
“I know, I know!”
And suddenly they were hugging and laughing and happy. And when the giggling finally subsided, they were sitting on the ground in each other’s arms. Tony looked up and Bruce was looking down at him. The smile had slipped off his face.
“Tony… Do you remember when you told me to strut?” He said, and a strange look crossed his face.
“Yeah-?” And then Bruce was leaning down and… he was being kissed.
But for one reason or another, it wasn’t like anything he’d ever experienced. Sure, he’d shared hurried sensual kisses with one-night partners, he’d shared desperate please-don’t-die kisses with Pepper, but this? This was something completely different. It was more like he was being given a gift, like the person on the other side of those lips was trying to do something nice for him. He closed his eyes and kissed back.
And if there was any doubt in his mind after the kiss, it dispersed the moment they pulled away and he saw the look on Bruce’s face. “Hey, Bruce?”
“Yes?”
“Wishes aren’t horses.”
-----------------------------------------------
It was snowing. Not the barely-there spotty sort of snowing or the blizzard-like painful wind sort of snowing. No, it was the rom-com sort of snowing, when it came down just enough to create a romantic atmosphere, but not enough to cripple visibility. It was snowing, and Tony and Bruce had evidence of it on everything from their shoes to their Santa hats (Tony’s idea. Bruce would like to go on record saying the hats were Tony’s idea.) when Bruce rang the doorbell for the Elliot’s home.
He shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea…”
Tony took his hand, smiling around the sunglasses he felt the need to wear, even though it was dark out. “You already rang the bell. Too late for second thoughts.”
Laughing feebly, Bruce reached up to adjust his hat.
A familiar voice called “I got it!” and the door was thrown open.
“Merry Christmas!” They said together.
“We’re here to fix your stove.” Tony added.
Kira looked overwhelmed, wide-eyed and staring. “You’re… You’re…”
“Going to fix your stove.” Tony finished for her, ducking under the arm she was using to hold the door open and strutting into the house.
Kira turned to look at him a moment, before turning back to Bruce with the same shocked expression. She repeated the movement once more. “Mr. Bruce… you brought Tony Stark to fix our stove.”
He shrugged. “Merry Christmas?”
And then her shock gave way to release a torrent of elation. “I cannot believe-“ She screeched and ran towards the kitchen, (dragging Bruce in her wake) where the engineer was already taking apart the appliance to the confused stares of an elderly couple and a twenty-something woman with a book in her hand.
“Kira, what the hell is going on?” Asked the young woman.
“The Hulk brought Iron Man to fix our stove.” She explained joyfully.
The woman’s lips made as if to ask “What?” a couple of times, before the confusion slipped away. “You know what?” she lifted her book again. “I don’t wanna know.”
Mr. Elliot, on the other hand, didn’t ask any questions. Well, he asked one. “Honestly, it’s Christmas Eve! Couldn’t you have waited a day or so to tear up our kitchen again?!”
“They’re fixing it, Hun.” Mrs. Elliot soothed. “It’s like an early Christmas gift.”
“Right.” He snapped. “Except they’ve already tried to fix it too many times to count and not once has it actually been fixed! I don’t think GE can even fix it.”
“Then it’s a good thing” Tony said from the ground, Leaning back and pushing down his sunglasses. “That I’m not from GE.”
It also turned out to be a good thing that Mr. Elliot’s jaw was attached to his head, because otherwise it would have fallen to the floor. “That’s…”
“Yup.” Kira supplied.
“And our repairman is…”
“The Hulk.”
“And they’re…”
“Fixing our stove.”
“Oh.” Mr. Elliot regained some semblance of control and took a seat next to the elderly couple.
“You’re mother’s enjoying the show, Dev.” Said the older gentleman, “Maybe a little too much.”
“Can we keep him?” Asked the woman in question.
“Unfortunately, I- We need him back at Avengers tower, fighting crime and our toaster. Otherwise, I’d be all for it as long as we got visitation rights.”
The two grandparents chuckled while Mr. Elliot gave a loud, joyous laugh.
“You’re hilarious, Brucie.” Tony called from underneath the counter, buried in wires.
By the end of the night, Bruce and Tony were acquainted with Kira’s parents, Ella and Devin, her sister, Ronnie, and Devin’s parents, Greg and Harriet. All of whom now had a fully-functional stove.
The memory of Tony emerging from the wiring and announcing “Who want’s coffee?” and the following “Ohmygodfinally” would remain one of Bruce’s favorites for years to come. (And the look on Mr. Elliot’s face when the stove, which was apparently now sentient, said “Don’t you think it’s a little late for coffee?” was possibly even better.)
(“Did the stove just… speak?”
“Just go with it, dad.”)
And after staying for a couple cups (per Kira’s request) of Hot Chocolate (per the stove’s request), Bruce and Tony returned to the tower, where Bruce found himself settled on a familiar couch with a familiar bowl of popcorn and a familiar pair of legs over his own. And a slightly less commonplace head on his shoulder. Glancing down, a pair of brown eyes met his own. He wrapped an arm around Tony’s waist, (To make sure he didn’t slip away. Not that he needed to worry.) as the brunette leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. And as the opening credits for A Charlie Brown Christmas began to roll he heard:
“Merry Christmas, Bruce.”
“…Merry Christmas, Tony.”
For annabeththeunicorn by kuailong; Son of Man; DEATHFIC
Notes: Er, Sorry? This was the only inspiration I could see through to the end. If you don’t like it, I will write you another one, okay? Sorry ;^;
Son of Man
They were the Earth’s final defense. The world’s protectors. Six people. Metahumans. But people. Six people with hearts, with lives, with hopes and dreams. And they failed. Not all at once, but they failed. Steve Rogers was the last man standing, exhausted, beaten. His team gone. There was nothing left, nothing left to defend, nothing left to save. Thor stood behind him, of course Thor had survived with him. He sometimes resented Thor for surviving. When Tony did not. When no one else did. He stared at the rubble in front of him. His battered shield in one hand, and the very last arc reactor in the other. He stood there, remembering.
They had returned. Years later, but They had returned. A new army, bigger, better, stronger. Cities annihilated overnight, entire countries wiped off the map. They had hit at once, in a week, over half the earth’s population had either been slaughtered or enslaved. And it was just the six of them.
Clint had gone first, a well-placed strike on the building he had been occupying. The weapons They had used, nothing Steve had ever seen. Entire building vaporized. A small pile of dust remained. That was the second battle they fought. They were defending LA. New York City had been wiped off the map two days before. They had been unable to save it. They were exhausted and scattered, no one had noticed the radio silence until after. They had won LA, somehow, but they had lost their archer. Steve had noticed a change in Natasha after that. It was like a flip had switched in her, he suspected he was no longer witnessing Natasha Romanoff, but the Black Widow. Steve blamed himself.
If you had asked Steve a year before if there was a way to destroy the Hulk, he would have told you no. It turned his stomach how he had lost Bruce. How they had lost him. It had been slow, and horrifying to watch. During the fourth battle, they were fighting for London, then, was when it happened. Tony called it some sort of flesh eating something or other, the remaining team had to watch. There was no way to stop it, they had tried. They had tried so hard. They lost London.
Natasha had been next. They were at least able to recover her body. Crushed, beneath a falling building. The fifth battle; Tokyo. That left him, Tony and Thor. Thor tried to convince them to leave, to survive. The earth was lost, even Tony believed it at that point. But Tony, always Tony, the love of Steve’s life, had turned to Steve for the final decision. And Steve had chosen to stay. He had chosen duty over the chance to live, and he regretted that decision ever after.
Finally, Tony. Steve closed his eyes, that day had been burned into his retinas. He would never forget it. He felt he never had the right to forget it. It all had been his fault, but especially Tony. Especially Tony. He should have followed Thor. He knew Tony would follow him, he knew it. And he had let his love down. Tony would still be alive, Steve believed this. But how Tony had died. How he had lost Tony. It had been so simple. They had been caught unaware. Russia. They had been resting in St. Petersburg when the Army had attacked. Tony had been outside. Without the suit. It was so stupid, Steve thought. So goddamned stupid. A well placed phaser blast. Steve cursed his own stupidity.
And yet Steve went on. He hadn’t wanted to. He had wanted to stop and just give up. Lay down arms and leave with Thor. There was nothing left. Mankind was doomed. But he tried, he fought those last few battles. Him and Thor. They lost. And now, there he stood, the ruins of New York City, where it had all began. And where Steve was going to let it end. His shield had survived. Tony had not, but his shield had. It made him sick. He was so tired, so drained, so done with everything. He had picked defending the earth, this damned dying world, over Tony. He had picked his goddamn shield over Tony. And it had cost him everything. There was nothing left for him. Nothing left for Steve Rogers. He reached a hand up, he had been crying. He was unsure where he even found the tears anymore. Nothing left. He felt Thor lay a hand on his shoulder. He ignored it. He was lost. Unsure what to do. He no longer wanted to live, he no longer had anything to live for. Thor was his comrade, yes. And there would always be somewhere that needed defending. But he was so tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of living. He turned to Thor finally. There were no words between them. There did not need to be. Thor was leaving, and he wanted Steve to go with him. But Steve was done. He was going to sit there, on that ruined earth, and waste away. He turned back to the rubble. Without even looking he handed the shield to Thor. The shield. No longer his shield. He could not claim it. Never again. He sat down. He didn’t plan to move. He listened to Thor walk away. His fault. All of it. He had failed the world, he had failed himself, and he had failed Tony. Nothing left. He stared out over the rubble, if he looked hard enough, he could see where Stark Tower stood. There was a crater there, and Steve shook his head. This was what he deserved, he had failed all of them. But especially Tony.
Happy Birthday, woman. Took me a bit to realized this blog was you >.> Happy birthday :P
thank you!! :’D