Clark Kent (
stands_for_hope) wrote2014-06-02 11:50 am
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Entry tags:
The Metropolis Dork Squad, Captain America, and the Falcon in... Angst, Death, and Taxes
[continued from here]
The day had arrived. The trap had been set.
They'd gone to Lois's apartment the day before and made their intentions clear, hoping that with a short period of time, the HYDRA forces wouldn't be able to pull together anything that was too hard to handle.
Jim's paycheck had come in, so he'd treated a rather delicious dinner for the three of them, which had been followed up with some surveillance work, a couple of flights over the various buildings to scout for good positions (both to look for snipers and to drop Lois), and a watching of The Incredibles since there weren't any good games on.
Lois hadn't quite gotten Jim into a french braid with flowers, but she had managed to twist up a few smaller braids and tuck the remainder into a pony tail to keep the worst of it out of his face. If Lois was happy about it as much for it's utility as to give Jim a firm, physical reminder of the people who cared about him... well, she wasn't about to say it out loud.
Clark was with them until roughly half an hour before and informed them just before he left that Captain America was on the ground, apparently sketching one of the ruined and as yet unrepaired buildings on a bench nearby with large 'easel case' while the Falcon was half a mile away on a rooftop. Thankfully, while a good portion of the surrounding area had been destroyed during the attack on Metropolis, this neighborhood was semi-functional (if largely empty during the weekend) so he wasn't entirely out of place.
That just left Lois, her HYDRA pin tucked in place at her collar, and Jim in the empty office room, doing their best to psych themselves into believing this would work.
...and Clark going to investigate the singular figure hiding out on one of the higher rooftops nearby.
The day had arrived. The trap had been set.
They'd gone to Lois's apartment the day before and made their intentions clear, hoping that with a short period of time, the HYDRA forces wouldn't be able to pull together anything that was too hard to handle.
Jim's paycheck had come in, so he'd treated a rather delicious dinner for the three of them, which had been followed up with some surveillance work, a couple of flights over the various buildings to scout for good positions (both to look for snipers and to drop Lois), and a watching of The Incredibles since there weren't any good games on.
Lois hadn't quite gotten Jim into a french braid with flowers, but she had managed to twist up a few smaller braids and tuck the remainder into a pony tail to keep the worst of it out of his face. If Lois was happy about it as much for it's utility as to give Jim a firm, physical reminder of the people who cared about him... well, she wasn't about to say it out loud.
Clark was with them until roughly half an hour before and informed them just before he left that Captain America was on the ground, apparently sketching one of the ruined and as yet unrepaired buildings on a bench nearby with large 'easel case' while the Falcon was half a mile away on a rooftop. Thankfully, while a good portion of the surrounding area had been destroyed during the attack on Metropolis, this neighborhood was semi-functional (if largely empty during the weekend) so he wasn't entirely out of place.
That just left Lois, her HYDRA pin tucked in place at her collar, and Jim in the empty office room, doing their best to psych themselves into believing this would work.
...and Clark going to investigate the singular figure hiding out on one of the higher rooftops nearby.
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"Your--" he rethought the words "He's not good at subtlety, is he?"
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He was relaxing, bit by bit. There was something about Clark that made that easy. The trust, the friendship, the acceptance - some combination of all of them. He was finally starting to feel like his keel was where it should be.
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"I got this from a colony ship that'd been here for millions of years. It's vintage."
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There's... a lot of warmth there. Jim's important to him, important to him and Lois both, a necessary part of his concept of 'home' that's come to mean more to him than he ever thought a place outside of Smallville could.
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"None needed."
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Whatever. Clark clamped down on the uncharitable moniker of 'the dumbass' for Captain America before standing up with Jim in one arm.
"Let me know when you're ready."
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Two very familiar voices.
"-come here and expect everything to be exactly the way you want it without any concern for everything he's had to deal with and everything he's accomplished and I swear to God, Steven Grant Rogers, I will take that stupid shield of yours and beat you over the head with it until you get it that Jim's his own person--"
"I KNOW THAT. You don't think I know that? You don't think-- Jesus Christ, both of you, you too Sam! Thinking I don't know he's changed, like I haven't changed! You think I came here thinking it'd be like old times? He doesn't get it, you don't get it-- I DON'T CARE. Whatever name he has, whoever he wants to be, I'm just goddamn thankful he's alive. And if he never wants to speak to me again, I'll ride off and leave him to it but I can't help that the thought of those bastards hurting him for years because I led him there, I let him fall off that goddamn train--"
And then utter silence before something that was murmured too soft to hear.
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Something had slipped back in place, a shield of his own without a target painted on it, but that was how he was going to survive. He took a breath, hand on the door, and said quietly, "This is gonna be a goddamned circus."
But then he stepped inside with more certainty than he'd had the first time.
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Clark got a kiss on the cheek (that he bent down a little for) before Lois tilted her head back to the assembled Avengers + 1.
"Say the word and his balls are in a jar," was how she greeted him even as one hand reached forward to give his arm just a little squeeze.
Sam was sitting across the room scrubbing at his face with his hands and Steve...
Steve was a deer in the headlights for half a second before extending his foot, a multitude of thoughts clear on his face as they ran through his head. He didn't turn, though, and he didn't leave. He just swallowed and waited.
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But then, letting her go, he stepped further in and gave Sam a nod. "Sounds like I need to thank you, too, for speaking up for me while I was coolin' down. But you."
At last, Jim turned to face Steve. An inch shorter than him now, but he held himself almost casually. But the room was full of fighters. They could probably see that his joints were intentionally loose, ready for action if he had to move. Ready for whatever would come. "I might've misunderstood," he said, "but I know you did, too. You didn't let me fall off the train. The whole railing went, and you couldn't reach. And the shot that kicked out the side of the train wasn't your fault. It bounced off your shield - which I picked up and was holding like an idiot because you were always the one using it, not me. The blame goes on the goon that was shooting the blue shit. Not you. Not even me. So climb off that horse before you get it more firmly lodged up your ass."
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"I... Jim..." a bit of shuffling, his shoulders coming up before he resolutely dropped them, "I didn't mean to shut you out. I just... didn't want you to see how I was feeling. I thought- I figured you'd misunderstand, and if you didn't, it'd just make you feel worse about it. But I wasn't kidding. Whatever you need-" and his voice wavered a bit there, enough that he pulled back, the tactics shifting behind his eyes visible enough.
"Jim, there are two people who're still here that mean the world to me. And it feels like, it feels... like there's not a damn thing I can do to help either of them. But that's not on you. I was trying... not to put that on you."
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Then, taking half a step back, he glanced away and took a slow, steadying breath. And more quietly, he said, "But you did do one smart thing today and that's not chasing me. I could'a killed you without blinking, and even if I'm mad at you, I don't want you dead."
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"Done. But..." and a ghost of something more like the Steve from earlier seemed to return, "I don't have to like it. You left a pretty big hole," he swallowed the wrong consonant "Jim. After the train." He raised a hand before Lois could go after him. "I'm doing it. I'd do anything for you. But you're missed, and I'm not going to pretend different."
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"Jim," and his voice was soft, more sure, "people change. Normal people and people like us. I don't miss Bucky Barnes at nineteen. I don't miss... I don't miss the guy who fell off the train. They're a part of me. They can't leave."
He ran a hand through his hair.
"I miss you. I miss... whoever you are right now and whoever you'll be in two months. I miss all the things we haven't done yet. You said 'til the end of the line' and I said it too and I meant it, warts and all. I'm not arguing," and he held up a hand to ward off the thought, "and I'm not fighting. But that's how it is."
He spread his hands, looked down, didn't know how else to say it plainer.
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"I'll try," he said with a shrug, "but sometimes it feels like I'm more Captain America than Steve Rogers these days."
He turned then, his footsteps slow and measured.
"I'm... gonna wash up."
And he disappeared into the bathroom as Sam let out a long, slow breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding.
Clark winced and didn't say anything while Lois sat down next to Sam and patted his arm.
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And he stood, heading for the door. He wasn't going to speak for Clark or Lois. He was going to walk. Being alone was a good idea again - for a little while, at least.
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Lois looked from Sam to Jim.
"If you want company, I'll go with you. Otherwise, I can stay here until Clark's done."
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"See you at home, Uncle Jim."
Clark just nodded. They'd see him at home when he got there.
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