Re: B&B: Janus, Steve, Atticus
There was a lot going on in that kitchen. Amid the morning-fragrance of coffee, at once bitter and sweet in the nose, and amid the clutter and paraphernalia of History, as envisioned as a (mostly historically accurate) tourist stop in a small town, there was a lot going on. Steve knew relationships to be messy, expressionist and outside the lines, just as he knew them to be nuanced. Still, for all the subtleties of intimacy intwined, it could all be obvious too, bold strokes on the canvas of a body, and Allen's gave him away with all the vivacious overtness of Kandinsky. The snap of spine, even the shift of his lips in an expression that was all disapproval. Steve wondered what he'd said that had been the wrong thing, but he wasn't quick enough to comment on it. Instead, his attention went to Atticus, as the other man took his hand.
He said nothing as one man turned toward sugar and the other took several steps away, as if his palm had been licked by fire, instead of a press of flesh. He observed, as an artist, as a soldier, as someone far too old for this marionette play, and he shook his head good-naturedly at the question about the boxes and Allen's response. He returned the smile in good form, but turned his gaze to Atticus. "Thank you for offering him though." It was light teasing.
Coffee was useless when you had a metabolism like Steve did, so he made no move toward pot or mug. Instead, he'd been about to fetch up his load again, when the movement of Allen toward Atticus distracted him, and he watched with curiosity at the play of fingers on chin. The man gave a moment of scrutiny to the swollen eye that hid behind glass and to the shine of coffee on lips.
They said he wasn't walking in on anything, but he wasn't quite so certain. It felt like some kind of play, but he didn't know what to make of it. Steve ran a hand over his own chin, over beard, the expression that bloomed on his face was warm, but stern. It was a Captain's. He looked at Allen. Sometimes, with shells falling around you and screams bursting in your ears, all you had were looks. That wasn't the case here, but it was an echo back to a different time. It was a gentle reprimand. And before anyone gets up in arms about it, it was entirely lacking in pity.