stands_for_hope | Firebrand, Superman, Lois Lane, and the Avengers in... Unfortunately Lex Luthor Is An Asshole

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house of am

Firebrand, Superman, Lois Lane, and the Avengers in... Unfortunately Lex Luthor Is An Asshole

That morning, there wasn't a paper that didn't have a variation of one headline:

Captain America Comes Out in Support of Superman

The quotes were all different, though: 'He's here to help, same as me.' 'I've never met a kinder, more civic-minded man.' 'I've fought beside him and I'd do it again; there's very few people I'd trust to have my back like Superman.'

The Planet was the only one who had a full interview to go along with the statement that had been distributed to the various publications, an exclusive as written by Lois Lane who was starting to get known as the woman to go to if you needed to talk to a harder-to-find superhero. Lois didn't mind that one bit, honestly, though Cat Graham had started to ask her if she knew any of their numbers to get herself a date.

Later, on another day, Clark might wonder if that had been as much of a catalyst as anything. Because that was the day that Lex Luthor decided to make his play.

The massive spider mecha seemed to appear out of nowhere, towering over parts of the downtown area that had only just begun to be rebuilt. The streets were suddenly filled with rolling war machines, filled to the brim with alien soldiers speaking a language that was unfamiliar and strange to anyone who might hear it. Strange flying ships made their way from the outskirts of the city inward, terrifying the people as they scattered them from the streets. And all of them, each and every one of them, wore red, blue, and gold... and sported the s-like curve as an emblem.

The invasion had begun.

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"Still didn't like hurting you," he admitted, just a little quiet. The good mood wasn't gone, just softened.

"I had orders on one side and confusion on the other," he exhaled. "The only thing that was clear was the orders, so I followed 'em. And I'm sorry for that."

He shook his head.

"I was following--" no, he decided, not the tack he wanted to take.

"We both did what we thought we had to. And we're here now, so... I like to think we picked okay."

"I shot you a few times, you broke my arm... Yeah, guess we're about even," he said, only partly serious.

"Yeah," though it came out thoughtful.

But he didn't have anything to add. Instead, he breathed out and let his eyes close. He was about to settle in to sleep, genuinely sleep, but--

"Hey Jim?"

"Yeah, Steve?" came the answer from the bed, head pillowed on his right hand.

"Got something I wanna talk to you about, but we had a long day. Can I have a few minutes of your time tomorrow? Just wanna get it done before we head out and with everything kinda up in the air, I figured I'd get on your dance card before we're all hauling furniture."

"Fine with me," he agreed. "Longest part of moving furniture's gonna be getting it here from her old place, then patrols, which is mostly about being visible where people can see ... well. You."

Firebrand still wasn't an out-there figure. He did dirty work. That put him on the bad side of a lot of people.

"If it helps Clark, I'll put on the old USO uniform and dance with a chorus line," he said honestly.

"I couldn't do what he does. Kid deserves all the help he can get."

Jim nodded, though it probably couldn't be seen. "Yeah, he does. I think it's helping him out a lot to have people he doesn't have to hide stuff around. Just..." He shrugged slowly. "Just tomorrow, that means effortlessly moving furniture."

"What else is family for, eh?" he said with a little smile.

"Not lettin' you have our niece all to yourself. And I wouldn't be surprised if I had a nephew-in-law soon enough."

He closed his eyes.

"'Least it's one we won't have to give a shovel talk to," Jim murmured, smiling toward the ceiling as he closed his eyes as well, comfortable enough there where he was to sleep.

"I figure you took care of it."

Which was said hazy, a little out of it. Steve was drifting off, the presence of a familiar body, familiar smells, a familiar voice working it's magic on him.

He laughed under his breath.

And the next thing he knew, there was light through the windows and he decided to ignore it, turning over and going back to sleep.

Steve slept better than he'd slept in...

Well, since before the war. That was why Lois literally had to drag him out the door before she could get him up, doing her best to let Jim sleep.

Then there was organizing, discussion, the handing off of keys, and the various and sundry details of getting Lois's stuff moved from the apartment across the city while having the Avengers very visibly patrolling Metropolis as, in the words of a certain news story, 'a personal favor for our friend Superman'.

Steve got patrol duty along with Clark (who had been firm about being seen since more than a few people would be worried about him, considering the very public beating he'd taken the day before), Sam took care of most of the moving with Lois and Clint, and by the end of the day, they'd accomplished quite a lot both in good will and in getting all of the major items from Lois's apartment over to the empty one beside Clark's.

Eventually, everyone came back to the apartment, the rest of the Chinese food was divvied up, and plans started being made for heading back out of town.

That was when Steve pulled Jim aside and nodded back to the other man's bedroom.

"Still got a few minutes for me?"

He'd woke up closer to noon, had crawled out of bed, stretched - and he'd claimed one of the boxes of Chinese food for himself before everyone else started to take up all the space. That amount of sleep was luxury to him - and pretty close to actually being unforgivable, but he forgave himself anyway. It was the first time he'd rested in a long time.

He let the others do the work for once and, when Steve came over to ask, he nodded. "Yeah, I've had... free time all damn day for once." And then, still barefoot, he was heading back to the bedroom they'd shared the night before. Weird how that had seemed so natural.

Steve smiled at that and followed him down the hall, letting him situate himself before finding a seat. After a second's thought, he closed the door.

"Gotta take a day off sometimes," he agreed as he leaned back, breathing in as he considered how to bring this up.

The closed door didn't bother him. No, he was too busy heaving the futon up into a sofa and flopping into a corner, the box of Chinese still in one hand. He'd been eating slowly, enjoying it, and wasn't going to set it down to let it get potentially stolen.

"Easier said than done," he said, then looked up, fork partway to his mouth. "So what's on your mind?"

Steve took a bite or two from the box he'd snagged himself, just as obviously to get his thoughts together.

"Not so much on my mind. Just... one of those things, you know? I think I've made it pretty clear you're-- you're one of the most important people in my life, however we're working things out."

He took a couple more bites, chewing them over as much as he was chewing over his thoughts.

"Part of that is... well, I guess it's kinda a modern thing nowadays. Or so I've read. One of those things you do with... people. I mean, you're not the first person I've talked to about it. Sam helped me figure things out and Lois and Margot--"

He let a hand scrub his face a little as he started to curl in on himself before he pointedly made himself stop and relax. There was no reason not to relax, to be afraid. This was Bucky.

This was Jim.

"It's one of those things, you know? Where... if we're gonna do this, I figure we do it right. And part of that is being honest about who we are, right?"

"...Right."

His tone was tentative. He was tentative. Whatever Steve was thinking, it bothered him - or it bothered him to talk about. And that made him wonder just what it was Steve was going to say. He prepared himself silently. Whatever it was, he was going to need... some kind of preparation, it felt like.

Steve sunk a little at the tone in Jim's voice but, because he was Steve, he soldiered on. Never run from a fight. Never start running or you'll never stop.

"I guess... it's not how you and I grew up thinking about things, but it was pretty damn helpful when I found a word for it. You know. Like a diagnosis, or-- well, not that. I'm not sick or anything."

He waved that off immediately.

"Sorry. I'm flappin' my lips like a goof here," and he gave Jim a little smile before ducking his head and trying to shake it off.

"Might as well just say it, you know? Shouldn't... shouldn't change anything. Doesn't change anything, between you and me, at least from me. I just figured... like I said."

He put the box down, sat forward in his seat, and looked Jim straight in the eyes.

"Bisexual."

He didn't pause long.

"I'm... I like girls, I like guys. Don't... never really had much of a divider on it, 'cept for always wanting to prove every other asshole wrong about me being fruity back in the old neighborhood. But that's not here or there."

He breathed in then, looking up at Jim, trying to see what the reaction was, trying to if he'd ruined everything. His hands clenched tight around his own knees.

"I just... we're startin' fresh. I wanna start... right. Clear. That's all."

"And you just had to throw it out like that."

He'd known. He'd known since Steve had gotten that look the last time they'd met in purpose. That hopeful look, that puppydog look. It had said it all, and while it was easy to brush off, it was easy to brush off because it hadn't been said.

Now, he couldn't brush it off. He couldn't pretend it wasn't there. And it put him in a place he didn't want to be in.

His fork stayed put in the little white box that was now going neglected and he sighed, jaw working before he spat out, "Damn it, Steve."

There was a split second where he looked like he was going to stand up, going to offer to leave. Where he was going to apologize for straining their already-strained friendship. But then he sat up and steeled himself. He didn't put up the shield, didn't slip into Captain America... but he'd talked to Sam and he'd talked to Lois and he'd talked to Margot, even, and they'd all told him the same thing, told him he was right.

It wasn't shameful. There was nothing wrong with him. And he wasn't going to be ashamed for who he was. No one was going to shame him for who he was, not Jim, not anyone.

"I just had to tell my friend about who I am," he said firmly.

"I just had to trust someone with the truth about myself, not because I was worried or scared, but because I wanted to. So yeah. I just had to lay it out, Jim. We're doing this right, then all cards are gonna be on the table. I'm bisexual. Steve Rogers likes guys and gals. Captain America's interested in the stars and the stripes. There it is."

"I think of all the people I defended you against, all the guys who wanted to take it out on the skinny little punk, the pretty boy, and what, now you go and make a liar out of me?" He snorted. "Guess my 'bullshit detector' ain't so great after all."

Worse, he thought, than when he'd been brainwashed, confused, and had orders and a gun. Worse, because he was choosing to say this and he knew it. But he'd had years and years of practice of making his face what he wanted it to say. Of keeping a mask in place even when he was ramming a knife into somebody's heart. Just usually, the knife was more literal.

Steve stared, incredulous.

"That's what's got you angry? That's what--" he stood then, shocked and... he didn't even know what. What could he even say to that?

"I come to you, eighty-somethin' years down the line, after everything--"

His eyes were wild, his muscles tight and shaking. All that was between them, all they'd lived through together, everything they'd done for each other, every moment he'd lived with the other man, every memory...

Every bruise, every punch, every freezing cold night curled up in an apartment where the heat worked every other Sunday when they were lucky...

Every smile, every laugh, every stupid joke and prank, every warm summer day at the beach, every trip to the movies, to Coney Island, every scrapped together meal that still tasted so damn good on an empty stomach...

"That's it. You... you regret defending the fruit, Jim?"

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