f (foundling) wrote in rooms, @ 2014-04-18 13:30:00 |
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Steve wasn't blasphemous enough to enjoy any parallels or allusions to the birth of Christ his sudden son, James, might have offered a more modern man. Immaculate conception though it felt like, in some other universe, it had happened the way these things happen. Probably. Maybe Russians—He wasn't going to speculate on it. He wasn't going to think about it. Not about Natasha, not about any of it. That was a slippery slope and he was having a fine time up here on level ground, thank you. So he had a son. It was a shock, to say the least, but that wasn't the kid's fault. This poor kid, whose life sounded tumultuous and arduous, who wore his father's best friend's name and his father's mantle and fought, shield up. Maybe Steve wasn't the father James had imagined—he'd never known his own father either, and he knew the tales the mind fathomed when it was lonely, the pictures of perfection and bravery others memorialized with, all complexity whittled down to flawlessness, but, he intended to try. And he was proud. He was. He didn't know James yet, but anyone who took it upon themselves to protect others at the risk of their own life had his respect. It wasn't something everyone could do, it wasn't something everyone wanted to do, which was understandable, but it was important, necessary in the world they lived in. So he had a son, and he had to spot him in Times Square. Steve himself had gone for incognito today. After the bus incident, he needed a bit of space from the public eye. With a hood up, baseball cap on, and his hands in the pockets of dark jeans that were not comfortable, he squinted blue eyes at the flow of faces—searching for—aha! The shield. The kid. His smile was automatic, congenial and open. The boy was young, younger than Steve, blond, but almost immediately, the man knew James hadn't been lying—he looked like Natasha, in the eyes maybe? Somehow, he could see it. Steve made sure to come at the kid from the front, not to sneak up on him. Tourists milling around were trying to snap photos of the shield, so it was a little difficult, but he managed it. He held out a hand for a shake. "James. Hi." |