heroic_jawline | Entries tagged with tony (no the other one)

Steve had reached out to Natasha (through several layers of encryption and burner phones because Natasha, at least, understood how to lay low) and was now in his very best incognito outfit (beard, jeans, baseball cap, sunglasses) with Tony (in generally the same outfit), trying to appear casual as they walked around one of those giant outdoor outlet malls waiting for Natasha to make contact.

"She said she'd drop a pin with where she is in--" Steve glanced at his watch, "--eight and a half minutes. You've got the test with you?"

He'd asked that about four times already, but he was anxious.

Steve had been collecting Wanda's mail since their conversation on Thursday, but the small mountain of holiday gift catalogues was now the size of Patriot and the corgi had tried to climb up it twice, so he was back in front of Wanda's apartment to put them inside. He'd brought an empty garbage bag, too, to clear out her fridge: Wanda hadn't known when she was returning (he was choosing to think 'when' and not 'if') and he didn't want her to turn around and leave because the apartment smelled like regret and three month old salad greens.

He got to the door and frowned at the glowing red light coming out from under it. It wasn't extremely noticeable but how had he missed seeing that when he raced over on Thursday to be sure the everything was locked up? He should've gone in then to turn lights off. Wanda's electrical bill was going to be ridiculous and Steve felt a little guilty about that as he reached into his pocket for the spare key Wanda'd given him after the first oops-I'm-an-animal transformation.

"Wow," Steve said, opening the door and blinking at what was waiting for him inside. That was...that was a lot of plant there...taking up most of the living room. Apparently the pulsing red light was really good for it? He put the stack of mail down on the nearest flat surface and gave the plant a placating smile and a wave. You know, just in case. "I'm going to clean out the kitchen," he told it. "Do you need water or anything?"

The plant, being a plant, said nothing but Steve had been an Avenger--and in Fandom--too long to completely trust it. "This'll just take me a few minutes," he said, feeling a little silly about talking to a plant as he made his way towards what he hoped was the kitchen. He got halfway there when the plant reached out a branch? Tentacle? Something for his leg and yanked him back and then up.

Steve sighed heavily as he tried to get his bearings from Wanda's ceiling. "Terrific," he muttered, flailing for his cell phone. Tony was never going to stop laughing about this.

[OOC: For the husband! Wanda's apartment and contents modded with

scarlet_chaos's gracious approval.]

It was Tuesday, which meant the Lourve was closed and so Steve was having to console himself with a croissant the size of his head and a very strong cup of coffee. He'd wandered down a side street full of cheese and chocolate shops, and with the coziest book store on the corner.

Steve found a seat to relax in and then texted Tony--find anything good on your explorations?--and idly scratched as his beard as he waited for the reply.

Steve--still a golden retriever--and Patriot--always a corgi--were in a stare-down across Tony's lap on the sofa, each trying to get as close as they could without literally being on top of him.

This was a hugely productive use of Tony's time, clearly.

There would be absolute chaos if he tried to get up.

[OOC: For the focus of ALL the attention.]

Steve stared out the window over the insanely advanced technology of Wakanda--surprise!--and the closed his eyes.

Next to him, Shuri--different version but still a nice kid--was taking measurements and muttering unflattering things to herself about ancient tech that Steve's ears were still catching. Sitting on the medical exam table, Bucky looked tired and vulnerable with only the one arm. Steve's fingers clenched in habit around a shield he no longer had. Tony had taken it back with him to Berlin to, Steve devoutly hoped, chuck it at the Secretary of State's head, though he thought that it being put into storage was probably more likely.

As Shuri completed her work, she mentioned something about her next appointment with Bucky, which didn't surprise Bucky at all but definitely came as news to Steve. As Shuri left the room, he turned his full attention to Bucky, eyes questioning.

"Stevie--" Bucky began and it was...well, it was not news Steve wanted to hear.

But it was fine. He was fine. He was a fugitive in a remote part of Africa without his shield or his team or his best friend starting tomorrow morning but it was fine.

He walked very carefully into the room he was sharing with his husband and closed the door, and only then did he allow himself--just for a second--not to be fine.

( And the fallout. )

The flight to Siberia was a mostly silent one with Bucky and Steve each lost in their own thoughts. At one point Bucky cleared his throat and asked quietly, "What's gonna happen to your friends?"

Steve's eyes closed briefly as he recalled the many pages in the Accords regarding incarceration. "Whatever it is, I'll deal with it," he said with a little shake of his head.

"Even with Tony?" Bucky asked. The pieces hadn't all fit together for him yet, but he could tell something was off.

"Even with Tony," Steve said.

"I don't know if I'm worth all of this, Steve," Bucky added.

Steve's jaw clenched as he looked back to where Bucky was seated. "What you did all those years...it wasn't you. You didn't have a choice." And Steve was a little focused on choice right now.

"I know," Bucky said, barely audible. "But I still did it."

After that there wasn't much left to say.

( Steve and Bucky remember how to be Steve and Bucky for a minute. )

( But then everything goes to shit. Because of course it does. )

[OOC: And we're done! Follows this and the zillion other posts over the last week. A thousand thanks to

imafuturist for listening to me whine about this movie for LITERAL YEARS NOW and for her NPC and PCing help. Especially during the fight scenes because they suck. NFI & NFB.]

So Steve's calls had gotten him almost nowhere, and his texts to the Avengers in Tony's universe had been left on read (thank you, Jan, that hadn't hurt his feelings at all), but he was out of time and that doctor already had a head-start to Siberia.

But Steve thought he could make up the time by not having to fly commercial, and there was a plane waiting for him at the airport. Whether the plane knew it was waiting for him was a matter of slight debate, but Steve was very firmly in the camp of "asking forgiveness and not permission" right now.

He still wasn't going to steal anything. He was just borrowing that airplane. And this Volkswagen Beetle.

...it was a good thing he knew how to drive stick still. He drove their amazing getaway vehicle, shut up, Sam, to the location that had been sent to him via text and breathed a little easier to see Sharon already waiting for them. Maybe today would go better than yesterday had.

( Three Morons in a Bug )

[OOC: Continues from here, canon stuck in blender and pulverized.]

Steve wasn't in London any longer. He'd slipped out of bed, grabbed his suit and left Tony a note--the gist was "I have to do this, please don't hate me"--and then grabbed Sam (whose expression when he didn't see Tony spoke volumes that Steve was just...not dealing with right now) and hopped a flight to Vienna where he'd managed to both track down Sharon and avoid Natasha, so score one for his sneaking skills.

Sharon had given him the one informant tip that wasn't spotting Bucky at a Gold's Gym somewhere near Stuttgart or Paris or Helsinki--a market in Romania--but also warned him that she was about to brief her boss on the lead and so Steve had about ten minutes before the task force mobilized. And they'd been ordered to shoot on sight.

Steve's jaw had clenched to hear that. This was the reason he'd inserted himself into this damn mess: to stop them--whoever them ever was--from killing his best friend. And so here he was, shield up, cowl on, and Sam's voice in his ear as he poked through a darkened apartment in Bucharest. Bucky had a very basic set-up: he wondered for a moment if this was how he lived in Fandom too, with a cooktop, a refrigerator, and a mattress on the floor. And then he felt guilty for not knowing, for not being able to make enough headway to even be invited inside.

A notebook on the top of the fridge caught his attention, edges worn and tabs out to mark certain areas. He opened it and found a printed out picture of himself in the Captain America outfit. Rumlow's voice echoed in his head: He remembered you. He got all weepy about it.

( Hello, Bucky. )

( Oh no, the consequences of my actions. )

[OOC: Continued from here, an apologies in advance for the incoming spam. Canon beat like a pinata until all the good parts came out, then added to about 150 percent more talking.]

Steve tried to come in quietly because it was early, but as soon as he opened the door he was greeted by twenty pounds of ecstatic corgi.

"Hey, Patriot," Steve murmured, crouching down and ruffling his fur. "Guess you missed me."

After a week of yelling, it was so nice to have someone be unabashedly thrilled to see him.

"Tony still asleep?" he guessed, taking off his shoes and padding into the bedroom.

[OOC: For the husband!]

It had taken Steve a dozen phone calls and as many follow-up emails to various members of the Carter family--none of whom seemed to be willing to be the one to admit they'd taken Captain America off of the approved visitor list for Peggy--before he'd finally gotten an appointment to see her again Thursday morning.

He hung up and rested his head against the fridge, feeling more worn out from this than he did after he'd run a marathon. He took a couple of deep breaths, shook the tension out of his shoulders, and called into the living room, "Want something to drink with the popcorn?"

Everything was fine. Fake it until you make it, and all of that.

[OOC: For that husband!]

After confirming that nothing weird was happening this weekend, Steve, Tony and Patriot hopped a portal and headed up to New York to, well, have a quick intervention about that Tony's, well, um...robot army building problem.

Patriot would be the distraction.

"Okay, so we need to grab bagels and pizza, too, right?" Steve babbled a little nervously. "And coffee."

[OOC: Operation: Un-kludge AoU is a go!]

Steve woke up with a start, sitting bolt upright on the sofa that Tony had rightfully banished Lucas to over the weekend.

"Shit. I missed his birthday."

He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed heavily. "JARVIS? Is Tony up yet?"

Did he still have time to get alllll the apology bagels in the world, maybe?

There was nothing wrong with two grown adults sharing the one bed because the hotel had clearly made a mistake and Steve didn't want them to feel badly about it by complaining. There were, however, going to be problems when one of them was a super-soldier with secret bed-hogging and sheet-stealing habits...and both bedmates had a history of nightmares.

Steve was stuck in a perennial favorite of his subconscious--where he was left all alone in the world--and was cuddling something he thought was a pillow entirely too closely in compensation.

If only it had been a pillow.

...sorry, Tony?

"Hello, again, Captain Rogers," the front desk assistant greeted him. Her eyes slid over to Steve's friend and widened slightly in recognition. "And...guest. Peggy will be so happy to see you both."

Steve smiled back over the bouquet of lilies he'd brought. "Hi. Is it a good day?"

The assistant nodded cautiously. "So far."

Steve took a deep breath and walked towards Peggy's room. "She'll love to meet you, Tony," he said earnestly. "It'll be nice."

[OOC: For his partner in sadness errands!]

Steve came back from his meeting at the Triskelion in DC kitted out in a new, slightly less garish, uniform (he'd had a few ideas) and a long, productive meeting with his new STRIKE team. Brock Rumlow seemed like a straight shooter, even if he was slightly drenched in Axe Body Spray, and the rest of the team didn't seem all that impressed about the idea of working with Captain America, much to Steve's unspoken relief. Natasha had been there too, smiling enigmatically as Fury laid out their first op together since the Invasion of New York. It seemed really easy, but Steve knew better than most how something could go to hell in a minute.

"Stark?" he called, pulling the shield off his back as he entered the shop. "You around?"

Steve was an obnoxiously perky morning person, even when (like tonight. He'd fallen into a Wikipedia hole) he hadn't slept for more than a few hours.

He stretched his legs out at the bottom of one of the endless sets of stairs in Fandom, singing (badly) under his breath: "First to fight for the right, and to build the nation's might...and the Army goes rolling along--"

He grinned over at his partner. "Ready?"

[OOC: For the guy who can fly so he doesn't have to run, probably, but open to anyone else up at an ungodly time to run!]

Current Mood: aggressively chipper

It was, Steve admitted, a perfect day to head to the aquarium: it was warm enough out to not need heavy jackets (Steve's lack of one and blue ~~smedium~~ t-shirt were getting some glances but he brushed it off) but before Spring Break, before summer field trips and the deluge of kids from PS something or other.

He had a sketchpad out and a good vantage of the otters, currently sleeping and holding hands. It was adorable. See? He was totally thrilled to be here. Stop worrying, Tony.

[OOC: For the guy who made his housemate go out and look at aggressively adorable wildlife!]