Commander S. Rogers (commanderrogers) wrote in marvelesque, @ 2015-02-28 17:48:00 |
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Whenever Rogers hit the ground, it was at a run. He didn't know how to approach any situation without throwing his weight behind it the same way he did a punch. Coming back to a changed world hadn't been easy, but he'd tried to put his personal difficulties with the adjustment behind what was more important. Like always, there was work to be done and it was his job to do it. Rebuilding the Avengers and holding them together during this time was important, as was making sure that each and every one of them could face the ways in which their personal worlds had changed and keep their heads up. The Avengers had always been a whole that was the sum of it's parts and Rogers never wanted to overlook a single member of his team. Tony might call it something like a well-oiled machine.
And it was Tony that he was about to see now. They had moves they needed to discuss, reactions to plan for events that hadn't even happened yet. Sometimes it was the only way to get ahead of things.
Stark was in his lab, the basement. Surrounded by his toys, his inventions and his armour. He was always there, honestly. Steve had no idea when Stark even found the time to sleep, but he liked that he always knew where to find him. Even more often, these days, since everything changed. With the collapse of his marriage, Steve was have a place to live and a person who generally offered him a warm reception.
In his hands, he held two cups of coffee. He'd paid three dollars for each of them, and while most people might have assumed he'd complain about the price of coffee, it was actually the furthest thing from his mind. He'd pay ten dollars if it meant fair trade and a waitress earning a living wage. In face, the'd actually read somewhere that lower-to-middle class people were bigger tippers than those who made more money. It seemed that having to slave to earn a buck, appreciating the service industry and the limitations of minimum wage left someone more willing to share the wealth. Those with little shared a lot -- those with a lot turned their greed into a palatable moral 'stance' about hard work and the pay off of a job well done. They perverted the ideas of the American people and acted like Roosevelt's '3 Rs' were dirty words.
Rogers pressed a button to open the door down to Stark's lab with his elbow, stepping in and letting it shut behind him with a sigh. It was dark in here, the only light emanating from the work bench that Stark was hunched over in silhouette.
"I know how you hate being dragged away from your work." Steve said, holding up the paper tray that held their cups to Tony could see them when he turned around. "But I hope this serves for the cost of admission. You can't be worth more than three dollars an hour."