stands_for_hope | The Metropolis Not!Vengers in... Location, location, location!

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house of am

The Metropolis Not!Vengers in... Location, location, location!

[continued from here]

Steve wakes up slowly, happy and warm and content enough he's not sure where he is at first. The clues he gets initially aren't helpful because they're such universal parts of his life, as far as his hindbrain is concerned, that they're just a part of 'how he should wake up'.

There's a warm body up against him, deep brown hair pressed up against his nose and mouth that smells like home, a ratty old mattress beneath him that's too firm for anyone but someone like him--

And a metal arm across his stomach. Huh. That shakes some things loose.

It doesn't halt the grin on his face, though. That's... probably never going away, or at least it won't be budging anytime soon (probably until Jim looks at him, disgusted, and tells him to 'stop lookin' like a loon'). Instead, he just reaches over to grab his phone from the the bedside table (amazing the things that survive a plain crash when they're kept in the right pocket) and peers at the time.

Huh. Nearly two. That's fair. But--

"Hey, sleepyhead. You get some good rest?"

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Steve slings a thumb at Jim.

"He says that like he didn't paint me up just as rosy. Not a girl I met who wasn't disappointed in the real Steve Rogers."

Diana, however, seemed the most interested in the Veteran's Affairs hospital.

"We have those who specialize in handling the troubles of warriors, healers whose gifts lay in the mind as opposed to the body. We have not gone to war for centuries, but some wounds last so long and longer and it is a weight that we all bear. I am glad to know that there are such places in this world."

"The girls who acted like jerks toward you, I never invited back, either," Jim said to Steve, but then gave Diana a smile. "But yeah, I'm glad, too. I just... It's kind of weird to admit it. You didn't do that back when me and Steve were younger. People whispered about it, called it 'shell shock,' talked about people with it like they weren't really people. ...It's a lot better now."

"That, I have seen, is one of the most damaging of the ways of the world of men," she said honestly, glancing between the two of them.

"Scars of the mind are just as worthy of kindness and respect as those of the flesh. And to admit to them is wisdom, not shame."

Steve agreed with a bob of his head as he turned to drain the pasta.

"It took me a little while to be on board with therapy, talking to people about what's going on in my head. But I'll be honest and admit I don't think I'd be here if I hadn't."

"My problem is," he admitted quietly, "that I've already had enough of people mucking around with my head. I'm not sure about letting people do it for my own good."

Steve looked over at Jim.

"If you get a good one, it's more about you working things out for yourself without feeling bad about it than anyone doing anything to you."

Diana nodded in agreement and reached a hand over to gently settle on Jim's arm, encouraging and sweet.

"I think I already did most of that." He patted Diana's hand gently. "I just ... still sit up in the middle of the night with a gun in my hand. To the point where Clark stopped noticing unless I take the safety off."

"My mother has drawn her sword in the night many times in my life, and it has been centuries since any attacked her in anything but sparring. Some behaviors may be changed through talk. Others, one merely learns to accept as a new way of being."

"Guess we'll see how I end up," he sighed, but he shrugged. "I don't think I've tried to kill anyone unintentionally for a while, though."

Steve nodded as he mixed in the sauce and started layering the massive dish with cheese, fried eggplant, and pasta.

"Lucky for you, I come complete with baked pasta."

Diana gave his arm a soft squeeze.

"I am honored to call you shieldbrother, as I call others sister. Though troubled, your heart is strong. And if there is a way in which I may share your burden, you have only to ask."

"And somehow, I wound up in an apartment with all you people willin' to put up with me," he said, looking between Steve and Diana and through to Lois and Clark. He'd never discount luck again.

"I've been puttin' up with you for years," Steve pointed out.

"You're my uncle! Gotta put up with family!" came from through the moon gate.

"Brother," was all Clark added.

Diana smiled playfully at him.

"Shieldbrother. And family is as Lois has said."

Steve just grinned, bright as the sun and impish as can be.

"Can't blame anyone but yourself and now you're stuck with the lot of us."

"I think I'm fine with that." He smiled at them all - then eased himself back into joking by asking, "So what was the damage today? Do I have enough to buy the building or do I need to head back to work early to scrape up rent?"

Lois walked over then, holding out his card.

"Don't worry. We didn't go too wild or anything," though she leaned over and kissed his cheek regardless, "though that's mostly because Diana looks good in everything. It's utterly unfair how amazing bright colors look on her."

Clark peered through the moon gate.

"I'd put forward that you look amazing regardless of clothes, Lois," he said with a playful little smile on his lips. It did make Lois laugh, but she had a sock stuffed into one of her pockets or something because she tossed it his way and bounced it off of his nose for it.

Diana giggled into her own hand.

"I think," Jim said as he slid the card back into his wallet, "that we're gonna need to start keeping sock baskets in every room. And I'm gonna go call my boss, tell him I'm taking a few days. Gimme a few minutes."

He stood, digging into his pocket for his phone as he headed back toward the bedroom that he was now sharing with Steve. Just for the sake of quiet while he was on the phone.

Steve threw off a salute and let him go while he pulled Diana's attention back to him. Lois sat at the table and took in the proceedings, while Steve focused on getting the food finished and put in the oven.

While he talked to his boss, he took off his sleeve and switched his glove to one that was a little thinner to do stuff around the house. Next, he got in touch with the company that owned the building and left a message, saying he wanted to talk to them about buying. When he came out, he was barefoot and in sweatpants, comfortable for an evening at home. "Thought of something," he said, phone left on the dining table. "We get to teach Diana to play poker."

Lois bounced in her seat.

"Ooh, that could be fun. Clark, you up for poker tonight?"

He peered through the moon gate again.

"I could definitely be up for cards."

"Same here," Steve agreed, leaning up against the counter. "It's been ages since I've gotten to play cards with anybody. My deck's been solitaire only for way too long."

"We'll bet gummy bears. Everybody can pick a colour to be theirs. But first." He held up a pair of scissors and a comb. "Who wants to cut my hair?"

Lois spread her hands.

"I'll only do it if you want a buzz cut. That's the only kind of haircut I know how to do for a guy."

Diana shook her head because it was entirely out of her context.

Clark finally walked over to the main apartment and took a look at Jim's hair, head tilted.

"Just looking for a trim or something a little more sculpted?"

"I want it out of my face. Easier to deal with. I'm tired of having this little ponytail on the back of my head." But he wasn't quite sure about looking exactly like he used to. Just... out of his face would do for now.

Clark nodded thoughtfully.

"I can probably do something for you. I used to help Pa when he didn't feel like going into town to get it done. Or when he and Sal were having an argument."

Because you don't sit in a barber's chair if you're not on good terms at the moment.

"Something short on the sides, maybe longer on top?"

"Sounds about right. This lunk's probably got an old picture of me on his phone." Jim nodded in Steve's direction. "If you want a reference. But you probably know how to do it more modern than that."

Steve was looking anywhere but at Jim or Clark, utterly innocent, and it made Clark smile.

"I'll figure out something that works. Come on over to the other side? We can use the bathroom to get it done; I'll grab a pair of scissors and we can have it done before dinner's finished."

"Sounds good. Just don't make me wanna shave my head and start over. Took me seventy years to get this grown out." He stood and followed Clark along to the other bathroom. Bathroom haircuts, he could handle. He was sure. And just in case he couldn't, it was Clark, and if anybody could stop him from freaking out, it was him.

Clark walked in a moment later with a pair of scissors and a comb, closing the door most of the way behind him.

"Dinner smells like it's going to be good," he offered as he gestured to the shower head and tugged it down.

"Let's get this wet so I can make sure everything's even."

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