Steve Rogers (onurleft) wrote in momadness_log, @ 2021-10-09 10:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | marvel: steve rogers, teen wolf: derek hale |
Who: Steve Rogers and Derek Hale
What: A reunion
When: backdated to Tuesday 10/5, after Steve came back through the portal with his memories
Where: Steve’s Room
Warning: High emotions, but no gratuitous sex, violence, or language
Status: Completed via Gdoc
It’d been an overwhelming few hours. Days? Weeks? Months? Years?? Steve was carrying his broken shield as he trudged from the portal room toward his bedroom. He knew that he needed to go to Medical for a checkup, but he needed a shower and eight hours of sleep before he could even consider something like that. It was absolutely surreal to be back after… years. Five years. More than five years. He didn’t know, couldn’t remember exactly… he’d lived it, but the memories were hazy. Fuzzy.
FRIDAY knew it was him somehow, and unlocked the door for him. He didn’t have a key on him, didn’t have anything except the shield, Mjölnir, his suit, and various bits and pieces that belonged on his belt. He turned to look around the room and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the pumpkin sitting on his desk. He moved quickly across the room, set his shield and Mjölnir down, and reached forward to touch the top of the pumpkin.
“Derek,” he whispered aloud. “Oh God. What you must have gone through.” His heart ached to think about it. He had to find his Wolf.
The chill in the air had dried the sweat to his skin. It felt tight and itchy and uncomfortable, but that was nothing to the ache in his chest that no amount of running had been able to displace. Derek rubbed at it even now, the skin red and irritated with the sheer number of time he'd had to do it. He couldn't stop to compare it to the one that lived there already, in the shape of the family and life he'd lost, because if he did, they'd just compound on one another and crush him to death.
Everyone was kind. There was no question about it. But a day of their sympathy was more than enough. On Tuesday, he was up well before dawn and out in the forest where he tried to lose himself—with no real success. He kept cycling through the grief cycle as he ran. Denial-Anger-Bargaining-Depression ate up every mile.
And none of it did a damn bit of good. As soon as he hit the hallway with Steve's room—he hadn't been able to bring himself to abandon it—it was like he was there, the scent of him all along the corridor. A ghost made of nothing but scent and sharp, painful memory. Every step toward the room went slower and slower, the sadness physically dragging him down, until he was slouching toward the space they had practically shared in the last few weeks. He keyed the door open, eyes looking down at nothing, and was shocked by the scent all over again.
Wait.
Derek's head snapped up, heart in his throat, and he took a lurching step forward before he stopped and stared at the dirty, bloody figure he'd know anywhere regardless of its state. Hope surged, but just as quickly was squashed. This could be Dick all over again. Still, it would kill him either way until he knew for sure. His voice was a tiny, broke thing. "Steve?"
Steve was vaguely aware that the door behind him opened. He released the poor pumpkin and turned, slowly, feeling sore and achey, and his eyes came to rest on the man he'd just been thinking about--the man who still, even after five years away, owned his heart. His eyebrows knit with concern and love as he took in Derek's expression. He wanted to re-memorize every inch of his lover's face. Derek was a sight for sore eyes. Steve missed him more than he could put into words. Funny how just a short while ago, he didn't even remember Derek, and now? Now he couldn't live without him.
"Derek. It is so good to see you," Steve breathed, emotion welling up within him and burning his eyes, his nose. He crossed the room in two long strides, and lifted his arms to wrap them around his Wolf. In his passion for this man, Steve forgot that he'd been in battle, forgot his exhaustion, forgot everything, and simply clung to Derek as if Derek was his life preserver on a turbulent sea. Though, Steve probably had broken or bruised ribs, scratches all over, twisted and sprained everything. He didn't care. He couldn't let go even if he wanted to. Even as the tears spilled out, he simply clung tighter.
None of it seemed real or even possible until Steve's arms were around him, until he was being crushed into his boyfriend's body. Derek didn't care. The relief rushed through him, almost as hard as the grief that had crushed him just a couple of horrible nights ago. His hands moved over an unfamiliar uniform, and he spotted the broken remains of the emblematic shield over Steve's shoulder, as well as a large hammer. Concern bled into his relief, making him pull back just enough to see his lover's face again, to take in the very clear damage.
His thumbs moved across Steve's cheeks, smearing dirt and blood with the salt tracks, while his own chest hitched in a half-sob. A thousand questions went through his mind, but they could wait until he'd had a chance to kiss the man he loved—which he did, softly, gently, pouring everything he had into it, all the words he couldn't say yet.
It was almost as if Steve didn’t want to let go, even to look into his Lover’s eyes. There were tears streaming out of his eyes, over his mask, down his cheeks. His eyes were bright blue as they looked into Derek’s, finding everything he didn’t realize that he’d lost. For years he didn’t remember, didn’t know about this place. And now that he was back, it all came back to him in a tidal wave of emotion, a tidal wave of memories; their first real date, sex in the car, Tony going missing and how much Derek wanted him to open up, Tony’s arrival back and Steve breaking down in front of his Wolf, their connection…
Derek’s lips on his own were soft, tender, and everything Steve wanted. His arms wrapped down and around Derek’s waist, pulled him in, didn’t want to let go. Steve kissed him with growing hunger, growing passion, pushing through the tears and the emotion.... But finally he had to break away to breathe. His forehead rested against Derek’s, and he breathed his Wolf in. “I didn’t… I didn’t know what I’d lost. I didn’t… I’m so sorry. I never would have left, I… I didn’t have a choice.”
The only reason Derek wasn't a sobbing mess right in that instant was because he didn't want to miss a single second of these precious moments, just in case this was one of those extremely vivid and cruel dreams. He kept feeling the edges of his mask along with his cheeks and the corners of his mouth. His own was still burning, still tingling from the onslaught of Steve's kiss turned fiery. Even this close, he didn't dare close his eyes except to blink, and even then he didn't want to, so scared Steve would leave again. Derek shook his head a little and came very close to shushing his boyfriend. "I know you wouldn't, and I know you didn't. Don't apologize. This wasn't your fault."
Derek took in a shaking breath and asked the most burning questions in his mind. "What happened? Where did you go? How did you get like this?"
Steve was only a hair’s width away from becoming a sobbing mess himself. He could hardly believe what was happening, could hardly believe that they were here together after five years, that he’d missed so much. The shushing would have been fine. It would have helped Steve to keep his emotions in check. He pulled back just a little. “I went… as far as I can tell I went back to… to a life before the Portals. A life before all of this.” He reached up and took hold of Derek’s hand against his cheek, then moved to the bed, giving a gentle limp as he did so. He pulled his boyfriend down onto the bed with him.
While he spoke, Steve started to peel off parts of his uniform. His cowl, his boots, his belt. He untucked his top from his pants. “There was the Snap. Half the population of the universe was snapped out of existence. And then five years passed. Tony, Bruce, and Scott figured out how to travel in time. We went back in time to collect the Infinity Stones. And then there was a battle. A huge battle, and… Tony--” He paused, cleared his throat. Tears threatened again and Steve lifted his hands to wipe at his face. “That’s where I was.”
Five years. Five years, and a life before the one they'd shared. Steve hadn't said it in so many words, but Derek understood the inference: they hadn't known each other at all. But that was just a selfish drop in the bucket compared to all the things his boyfriend must have gone through. Thanos, the Snap—more than one person had mentioned that timeline, the series of events Steve was describing. Derek wanted to cry all over again, but he didn't dare. His Soldier needed someone right now, and not the other way around.
He let go of Steve's hand, but only to get an unopened box of wipes. It wasn't a shower by any means, but getting even a little of the sweat and grime and blood off of him would probably feel like a relief. Coming back up to him, Derek gently tipped his head up with his finger. He'd intended to start cleaning him up, but one look at his face—at the blue-blue eyes he'd been convinced he wouldn't see again, or that he would, but without a hint of recognition—and he leaned in for another lingering kiss. This one was all apologies: for the loss, for the loneliness, for the years Derek couldn't even begin to imagine, for the certain fact that he'd have to relive it over and over in the coming days as the science team hit him with a million questions.
That's what kept him from asking more than he had.
The pain etched into the lines of his lover's entire body and so much deeper than that called to him, made his chest ache before he'd even offered to take it. Derek shuddered as he stood upright again and went about with the gentle cleaning he'd intended. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. You shouldn't have had to live through that. Nothing's going to change that now, I know that, unless the portal decides to be an asshole again. But we're not even going to consider that now."
His fingers brushed over the bruising on Steve's cheek that had nothing to do with wiping off the dirt and soot, and everything to do with the need to touch him in that moment. "Let me take this from you tonight. Just so you can sleep. A lot of people are going to demand your attention over the next few days, and I'm just going to have to deal with it, no matter how selfish I really want to be. But for now, for the next few hours, you're mine—assuming you've seen and talked to James already? If not, he gets first dibs."
The wipes were better than a shower at the moment. Steve was sore, and tired, and wasn’t sure he could stay on his feet for long enough to shower. Steve looked up at the gentle tip of Derek’s finger under his chin, then closed those blue eyes at the feel of Derek’s lips against his own. How had he not remembered this? How had it been gone from his memory for five long years? He lowered his arms and wrapped them down and around his Wolf, pulling Derek in close and tight against him. A pinch of pain and then a dull ache blossomed in his chest, fire spreading along his ribs. He didn’t care about the broken ribs, he just cared about Derek. Lips. Kisses.
Between gentle wipes, Steve lifted his shirt up over his head and tossed it off. He was fairly badly bruised underneath, but thankfully the uniform had done a fairly good job of protecting him from the majority of the scratches and cuts. There were some, and Steve hissed gently as his arms lowered again. “I’ve seen James. He and Torunn were there when I came through the portal,” Steve said softly. “My son. He’s so… strong. I’m so proud of him.”
Then Steve leaned forward to press a kiss against Derek’s neck, forgetting the gentle wipes. “Stay with me. Stay forever.” Steve wasn’t going to let his Wolf out of his sight. Not for a while. He went quiet, his mind going back to the battle. To Tony, and Nat. To Bruce’s damaged arm. "Tony, he... he snapped to get rid of Thanos and his army, and Bruce, he snapped everyone back... but he couldn't bring back Nat." He said, mumbling now, practically incoherently.
Derek wanted to take that plea for 'forever' for face value, but he had to set that hope aside so he could focus on taking care of his boyfriend. Every pause for a touch or a kiss or a crushing embrace was another reminder that Steve was real and there and still very, very much in pain—and not only physically. His breath shivered in the inhale as he carded his fingers gently through Steve's hair. He wasn't completely clean, but the worst of the blood, dirt, and sweat were filling up trashcan next to the desk by way of almost the entire package of wipes.
"She's here," he reminded his boyfriend in low tones. "Natasha's here, and so is Bruce and Tony and the rest of the world. We're all here, and we're okay." His breath hitched, and he leaned their foreheads together again, eyes prickling with unshed tears and arms around his shoulders. "You can rest now, sweetheart. You've done the hard work. Saved the world and came back to me."
Steve nodded. He turned onto his side and relaxed down against the bed, clad in his boxer-briefs and little else. There were visible bruises on his body, but they already looked like they were healing: tinged green and yellow, the darkest blues and purples fading fast. Steve took a deep breath and sighed it out slowly, his eyes closed and his head against the pillow. He was already half asleep, even without the blanket over his body.
“I love you,” he whispered sleepily, his hand lifting to search for Derek’s. He didn’t care what part of his lover he found--hand, thigh, hip, forearm--he just wanted to touch him. “I will always come back to you.”
Even though he'd been in the middle of showing far less care for his own skin, Derek still didn't hesitate to take Steve's hand when it was put out to him. He raised it and pressed his lips to the scratched and broken knuckles. His chest was fit to burst with the impossibility of it all. "I love you too," he whispered around the lump in his throat, and then swiftly got undressed and pulled the covers over them both. He pressed his hands to Steve's back, pulling him tight, so tight against him. The pain moved into his own body, but he welcomed it. It meant his boyfriend was here, alive. Derek kissed his forehead, his cheek, anywhere he could reach. "Welcome home, Soldier."
Tomorrow there would be meetings and questions and Steve would face the world. Tonight he was right where he belonged: in Derek's arms.