stands_for_hope | Superman, Firebrand, and the Metropolis Gang in... the World's Mightiest Duckling

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house of am

Superman, Firebrand, and the Metropolis Gang in... the World's Mightiest Duckling

[continued from here]

It took a few weeks, but soon enough, the apartment had become an entirely settled little commune between the five of them. Steve's things had arrived as Clint had promised, they'd been installed in the new apartment, and the group had made the changes they'd discussed for everyone's comfort with one addition: with Steve bunking with Jim, the room he'd initially intended to take had become a general office/library/art room for everyone to use when they felt like a bit of time alone. For as silly as the concept sounded, all of them had ended up using the room a time or two and it had definitely kept things peaceful despite the addition of two new people.

Considering that the apartment was home to four superheroes and a world-famous journalist, it was amazing how easily they all fell into a routine. Jim, Lois, and Clark would usually leave for work around the same time and Steve, always an early riser, had taken to making them something to munch for breakfast on the way after he returned from his morning run. Having also gotten a position at the community center (teaching kids art and art history), Steve would leave with Diana an hour or so after that. Everyone filtered back into the apartment at different times and whoever was feeling up to cooking would usually start dinner when they got in. If no one was feeling up cooking, one of the two 'old' men would treat takeout.

Today, however, Jim's site was currently closed for due to an issue with the plumbing contractors and some unfortunate flooding that had occurred overnight. That was why Clark texted Jim and invited him to come visit he and Lois at the Daily Planet offices and go out for lunch together.

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"I know, Steve," he said quietly, the pause giving him too much time to stop and think. "I know, I just... There's still stuff I'm nervous about."

A lot of stuff when he really thought about it. A lot of what he'd first snapped at Steve had been parroting, but there was still some very real fear beneath it, and even though he'd loved Steve for years and had come to love kissing him, touching him, laying in bed with him -- there were still things that made him want to go back to that kneejerk reaction, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. Being shirtless was fine, but now he was worried. What if Steve wanted more than that? Could he give that to Steve, or would he end up breaking what they had?

Steve leaned down to catch Jim's eyes and his eyes were clear, unafraid but also unworried.

"That's why you get to decide how far we go," he said with a crooked little smile. His hand lifted up to stroke the line of Jim's jaw.

"Tonight's already perfect."

His hands let go of Steve's tie and slid over his shoulders instead, arms wrapping around to take the opportunity he was given. Eyes closed, he rested his forehead against Steve's and sighed. "I hate that I still get so... edgy about things. I shouldn't. I love you, and when I look at you, it's so damn easy for my blood to run hot, but then it's... those little voices back again, telling me that I shouldn't feel like that."

He closed his eyes and let his head rest against Jim's.

"And what have those voices got to say, huh? What have they got to say that's scarier than what we've been through to get here?"

He clenched his eyes shut tight, made his jaw flex to keep from grinding his teeth together. "All my life, I've been taught that bein' anything but straight could get somebody killed, and that's still happening now. Maybe not right here, but I've seen enough of the news to know there's people on the sides of the roads with huge signs saying 'God Hates Fags' and worse. And I don't want to feel like I do, I don't want to feel like I'm in danger from those idiots because I'm more dangerous than they are, but this shit doesn't go away this fast, even though I want it to."

He reached up and stroked his hand along Jim's jaw, not speaking for a moment, seeking to settle and calm before addressing the crux of the thing. Jim's well being was more important than pushing boundaries, more important than just about anything.

"We've got time. We've got all the time in the world."

He leaned in a little.

"I loved you when we didn't kiss and I love you now that we do. I was happy sharing your life then and I'm happy sharing it now. I don't even know how to explain how happy I am half the time, honestly."

His hand found the back of Jim's neck, ran slow and steady and gentle.

"So you tell me what I can do to make you happy... not just that, to make you feel safe and good and okay, and I'll do my damndest."

"M'sorry I ruined it," he exhaled, too aware of the tears that were threatening behind his eyelids. Everything had been going so damned well and then he'd just had to stop and think.

His arms slid down to wrap around Steve's waist - and that... That, at least, he could see as progress. He wasn't freaking out so badly he was pushing Steve away and stalking off. He wasn't yelling, he wasn't snarling old opinions. He was still holding on, still staying close. Using Steve as his anchor, like he always had. Just now, he was big enough to hide behind.

"How about," he said eventually, "we go find that big bed and lay down. Take our shoes off, loosen stuff up. Get comfortable. And we can get the mood back and hope I don't kill it this time."

He nudged Jim's shoulder.

"Didn't kill a damn thing," and Steve's tone was firm but still edged with playfulness. He wasn't mocking him, just trying to make it clear that the whole thing didn't depress him. He leaned up and pressed a kiss to Jim's forehead before tipping his head to the bed.

"The rest of that sounds good to me, though I, uh, don't think we'll have any trouble finding the bed."

...it was kind of massive and while it was in neutral colors, the materials looked... very nice.

"Y'know, the good thing is, the woman at the VA said she has an idea for something to help me with all this, so hopefully, I'll have my brain in a straight line before too long."

Steve was right, though. That bed was hard to miss, and it looked... "That thing's probably gonna be too soft - but I'm still gonna give it a try."

For a few seconds, his hands went back to being busy, gently finishing the job at Steve's tie, and then pushing the vest off his shoulders. Without the rush and tension of what comes next and the goal of just being together on the bed, he could do that much.

"Worst comes to worst, we steal the comforter and sleep on the floor. Carpet's pretty plush too."

He toed off his shoes and decided to get his socks too, tucking them neatly in the shoes before slotting them under the small table near the entrance. Jim got another quick kiss before he set to hanging up the jacket and the vest, leaving Jim to undress himself to his own comfort level.

But what he did instead was walk up behind him and wrap his arms around him, nuzzling into the back of his neck. "Thank you," he whispered. "I know I can be frustrating..."

Steve relaxed back against Jim without a second of pause.

"You're amazing. This whole night... this was all you."

He put his hand over one of Jim's and gave a soft squeeze.

"I owe you another dream," he murmured, "but I gotta admit, most of what I've had since you started looking like this has been nightmares. Not because of you, but because of war, then because of what happened to me after. Every night, it's like I see all the bad things that could happen over and over again... Losing my memory again. Losing this. Us. Dying and leaving you behind. Watching you die. Being the one to kill you. Being torn away from this little family I built coming straight out of hell. But now and then, I manage to have a good dream in the middle of the bad ones. Like when I dreamed of you and white roses and this big stained glass window. Only thing that didn't make sense was that for some reason, it was Tony Stark that married us, and I sure as hell wouldn't pick him."

He put his other hand over Jim's as well and it said something that he managed not to fall over himself at the mention of Tony officiating their wedding.

"Me neither."

But he swallowed a little.

"That first time we really talked, I was... I was an ass. And so much of that was because I was afraid that I was going to screw everything up, lose you before I even got you back."

He turned to catch Jim's eye.

"It's part of why I didn't want to... well... live. After they woke me up. Nothing felt real, like it would be there when I opened my eyes next. So I just... floated through. Let things happen. Threw myself into things mostly for something to do. Tried... tried not to damage what little it seemed like I had."

He gave Jim's hand a squeeze.

"Then you came back. And I had a choice. You made that clear. I either lived, like I'd always lived, heart on my sleeve, convictions and scars and all... or it didn't matter what I had, because I'd spend so much time afraid, I wouldn't feel anything anyway."

He turned a little further, looking at Jim.

"I'm not telling you that's what you should do or how you should feel. That's not how figuring things out works. After all, you always had more sense than me. I'm just telling you, in my own way, as much as anyone can... I get it."

Edited 2014-07-24 17:00 (UTC)

"I'm still working on it," he agreed quietly. "Thank you for... For getting it. I know it's not..."

A slow breath and he leaned in to kiss his neck.

"I'll get better. I already am - I've just... got a few more things."

Right now, though, he had Steve. And he had a plan. So he stepped back and started unbuttoning his vest to make them even.

"I noticed," Steve said, hoping he sounded encouraging.

"With the two of us in the hotel lobby. That smile on your face, your arm around me like a dame..."

He didn't sound in the least bothered by that. In fact, he sounded... honored. Like he'd always wanted to be right there, which, honestly, he had.

Steve gave Jim's arm a squeeze before heading for the bed, half-jumping on to test it before crawling up to let his head flop back against a pillow.

"I'll... I'll be honest." He shucked his vest and started on his tie. "I've been, uh... I've been a little worried.. 'Cause I..." He turned halfway, looking more down at the floor than at Steve. "I've been seeing how Diana looks at you, and I've kind of been waiting for you to see it and... and go for it."

He blushed a little and lowered his eyes, plucking a throw pillow from the bed to press between his hands, something to do.

"You miss how she looks at you, Jim?"

"No." No, he hadn't, at all, and he knew he'd looked at her the same way a few times. "I just know that I'm with you. ...I guess it's that old fear rearing up again. Waitin' for you to find somebody better."

His tie joined his vest, and then went his shirt and his glove. It left him in a tank top, arm shining under the lights there in the room. "Guess I should know better by now, but I've always known you were better than me."

That got a distinctly confused expression.

"Me find someone better? Me better than you?" And he looked so confused at the idea. Him being better than B--Jim. Jim who'd spent every day, every hour, working to help pay for his food, for his medicine, stayed up to make sure he breathed, held him close, loved him when he was nothing. When he had nothing.

Something went on behind his eyes before-- "Is this about Peggy?"

"...What?" He looked up from where he was untying his shoes. "No. I know I was an ass about her, but I was happy you found somebody whose eyes were just for you."

"You mean the first person who ever even eyed me," he pointed out, settling into the conversation a little, less brittle.

"And what's this nonsense about me being better than you? Cause it's the silliest thing to come out your mouth bar none."

"You are better than me, Steve." His socks weren't quite as neat with his shoes as Steve's were, but it was old practice - lay his socks sideways across his shoes, let them air out, get an extra wearing out of them before they had to be washed. "You always have been. You were the good person. I was just the guy who could crack jokes and beat heads."

Steve's arms crossed over his chest and Jim would recognize the stubborn look from a thousand back alley fights.

"You mean the guy who paid for my medicine? The guy who helped me out after my mom died? You mean that guy who put food in my belly and stayed up to watch my breathing and wrapped himself around me to keep me warm when the heat was shot? That guy? The one who's pretty much the only reason I'm still here in a thousand different directions? Cause from where I'm sitting, there's no better guy in this room. Never has been."

"Do you think all those fantastic old paintings in the world would'a survived without guys getting their hands dirty to make sure they weren't destroyed? I made sure there was one more good thing in the world. It doesn't make me a good person. It just makes me good at taking care of a good thing." He shrugged as he walked over to the bed and sat on the edge. "And it's not hard to take care of what you love."

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