@ormenace | steve rogers + tony stark
Ankle-biting gremlins. Yeehaw zombies. A megalomaniacal self-proclaimed emperor. Sure, why not. He’d seen weirder. Hell, he was weirder, if he really wanted to get into it. Latverion set his teeth on edge, but something about it--he’d done this before. Woken up a lifetime, a world away from what he’d known, found everything foreign where it should have been familiar. Learning that the Dodgers had moved out West wasn’t quite landing in the middle of a multiversal incursion (reminder: check with Tony about what the scientific term for this was), but it wasn’t not.
Tony had helped him through it. When Steve was fresh out of the ice, still unable to shake off the chill of decades under the Arctic, Tony had walked him through: Berlin Wall, Moon Landing, Obama, iPod (Classic, Nano, Shuffle, and Touch). Steve could never return the favor, but the least he could do was check in. Make sure the guy hadn’t been eaten by gremlins or spent three straight days in his workshop listening to AC/DC on loop again.
So he stood in the doorway, two steaming paper cups in hand. He’d meant to bring bagels, too, but whatever had made New York bagels bagels apparently hadn’t made the jump with the rest of the city. Maybe it was the water. “Hey,” he said. “Figured you could use a coffee.”