pella castle doesn't get the joke. (nosocialskills) wrote in superbabies, @ 2013-01-19 18:43:00 |
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Steven might have escaped without a scratch, but it had been hard to watch the kids. They’d all been trained for moments like this, because it did happen. Whether or not they chose to be superheroes, attacks would come and they’d have to learn how to survive. Not all of them would live. He’d acted as support from the Atrium, seeking out the highest point and picking off enemies at a distance. Steady, precise, quick. He tried not to kill if he could manage it, but he didn’t care too much if he did. When it was quiet, he shouldered his rifle and trudged back downstairs. The chaos was dying down, most of the injured individuals were already down in the infirmary being seen to. After checking in with Luka, he sought out Pella. Pella had seen to her brothers afterward, making sure that Owen was all right after his first real battle. He had done better than she expected, and she left him on his own once she crossed the line between concerned and straight up hovering. James was all right, having been... comforted, maybe? By having such a clear objective, being able to do his job in protecting people. The doctors and whoever had volunteered for them were doing their thing and Pella, uninjured, vacated the area to keep from becoming clutter. So after weeks of being away, Pella finally got back to her room---and in a small, private moment of vulnerability, flopped into her bed with a satisfied noise. The safehouse beds were never this comfortable. Steven lightly knocked and pushed open her door. “Hey,” he said gently. “I just wanted to check in and see how you were.” Taking into her account her expression, he smiled. “Good to be back in your own bed?” Pella was quick to sit back up, brushing down her shirt and smoothing out the wrinkles. “It’s easier to sleep on.” Like she didn’t care. “Especially when it’s cold. I would not have picked January to start living in safehouses again.” “What’s the next move?” Steven asked. He stepped in and went to sit on the edge of the bed. “This isn’t resolved.” He set his rifle down against the bed and took a moment to massage his shoulder; he’d taken a lot of kickback and it felt like he’d been repeatedly punched. “No idea.” Pella scooted over so she could kneel behind him. She touched his shoulder without asking, massaging out the inevitable knots from firing the rifle. It paid to know that kind of thing when they’d been the only people on missions or hadn’t had access to doctors or massage therapists who could do it for them. “It’s not really our job anymore. We tracked the fake Daredevil. That was it. Now it’s on SHIELD, not us, especially with all those people in custody.” Steven grunted in pain, but tipped his head to the side in order to let Pella work out the tension in his body. Hours of being still like that didn’t leave scars like being in close combat, but he definitely ached. “Are you content to stay here again? Just pick up teaching like you never left?” Like Pella hadn’t just claimed the title of Punisher for herself. “Job’s over. I promised Owen I would come back, so I’m staying here now.” Pella kept her promises when she could. “He did so well today I can’t leave now, even if I wanted to.” “Yeah? Little Owen did you proud?” Steven grinned, glancing back at her. “No shit. I always figured he’d step up when things got hard.” “You can’t tell unless you put them in a real situation. He could have done perfectly in class and choked in a real threat. He didn’t.” Pella’s expression was serene and quietly pleased. “Good. I knew he had it in him. The kid’s a fighter, even if he doesn’t know it.” Steven hesitated before going on: “There’s a lot of anger, though. He holds a grudge. That can either work for him or against him.” “So does Dad. As long as he keeps it as righteous anger instead of being self-destructive, he’ll be all right.” Steve had a bit of a punching people problem, at times. So did Carol. It was no surprise that Owen was angry and grudgey. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask----is he okay?” Steven was talking like he and Pella hadn’t just had a major fight and parted ways, but the conversation was more important than their feelings. They’d get there, eventually. “He’s dropped a lot of weight. I mean a lot of weight.” “I don’t think he’s okay,” Pella admitted. She was still working on his shoulders, gradually moving her hands to the other side when the knots in one relaxed. “I think he’s insecure. I’m not the right person for him to talk to about it. He seems to have a relationship with his food and his body that I don’t understand. I wish he’d talk to Ian, but he won’t go until he’s ready.” “He’s been heavy since … forever. I’d say he looks good, but he seemed to drop it pretty fast.” Steven grunted when Pella hit another tight spot and he slumped forward to let her work. “Just want to make sure he’s okay and that he’s not starving himself or something stupid like that.” “I really don’t know. I don’t have anything to do with what he eats anymore.” Pella said it like she wanted to understand, but she was already having a hard time understanding his becoming an adult in the first place. “If he starts looking sick, then I can force my way in and make him do something, but he doesn’t.” Steven fell quiet, closing his eyes and relaxing into the touch with a heavy sigh. “Thank you. This really helps.” “I know.” “Of course you know,” Steven murmured. It wasn’t the first time she’d massaged his aching shoulders after hours of aiming and firing. “You’d do the same for me.” It was friendly without being flirtatious. “We were good partners once,” Steven said quietly. “I work alone. I’ve always worked alone. But we were good partners.” And then things went to hell and they worked so poorly together that they’d had to break things off. “It was a long time ago. It was easy in the last few years to pretend if we could just try it again it would work the same way.” They’d been separated for so long, only seeing each other on holidays (assuming Steven could even make it). Of course the idea of their old partnership was so idealized and so attractive. Steven turned to look at her, squeezing her wrist. “Things aren’t going to be the same again. This proved it.” “We’re still friends.” Pella rested her head on his shoulder, leaning her weight against his back. After the last twenty-four hours, she was understandably tired. They were finally talking without snipping at each other and it was a relief. Steven tipped his head slightly. “Are we?” After their argument he wasn’t sure. This felt good, and comfortable, and they weren’t talking circles around each other. “Yeah. Of course. I’m not going anywhere, you know.” No pressure, no ulterior motive. No ‘kiss me or our friendship is forever damaged’. Steven smiled. “Neither am I,” he said quietly. “I don’t have many people who know me as well as you. I can’t really afford to lose it.” Pella idly picked at a stray thread on his shirt. With certain people she was affectionate, almost a caretaker, but there were only three of them. Of course she didn’t want to let him go. “You’re one of the most important people in my life,” said Steven. He turned to fully face her, pushing strands of hair out of her eyes with both hands. “I can’t lose you, all right?” Pella sighed comfortably, resting her forehead against Steven’s. “I can’t lose you. You can make new friends. I can’t.” Steven stroked her hair and let his eyes close. “I can make friends, but not like this. Not like you. You understand me. You understand my life. My friends … it’s not the same,” he murmured. “I feel like I’m lying, or at least hiding parts of myself.” “I wish you didn’t have to.” But Pella understood. There were ugly parts of their jobs that they couldn’t share. The lying, the stalking, even the killing. The secrets. Steven didn’t have a life he could share openly with anyone except for Pella because she’d been present. Even James wasn’t allowed to have full disclosure because he’d never even freelanced for SHIELD. “It’s not fair to you.” “No, it’s not, but that’s the job.” Steven smiled faintly. “And I love the job. I’m good at it. I’m willing to sacrifice things. I don’t like the toll on my personal life, but I’m not going to quit. It just means that people who understand need to be kept close.” “I missed watching you work,” Pella admitted. It had been like before, for a while there: Pella in the thick of it (with Owen, this time), watching people fall around her and knowing that it was Steven’s doing. It wasn’t Steven’s style, or Pella’s, it was theirs. Nobody felt inadequate. Steven swallowed hard, taking a moment to pull back and look at her. He was very serious and very honest when he said: “You saved a lot of lives today.” Pella’s mouth twitched into the ghost of a smile. “Only because you saved mine.” Steven smiled. He slid his hands down her arms and took her hands. “Are we all right?” “I think what happened today makes us all right. Don’t you?” It would have been so easy to kiss him just then, but being held onto was enough. Most people didn’t get to have this much physical contact with her. “I do.” Steven squeezed her hands. He wasn’t tense, wasn’t asking how to please her. If their partnership could be easily destroyed in one fight, then it wasn’t worth maintaining. They were stronger than this, tougher than this. They were fighters, and they’d keep going. Pella let them have the moment, giving it a few seconds of silence before she full-on grinned. “You have to admit that was fun.” Steven laughed and tossed his head back. “Yeah. That was pretty fucking fun.” It said something about both of them that people could be hurt all over the place and they’d still call it fun. But this was what they did. This was what they enjoyed. They came out victorious. They were allowed to call it fun. “I missed this. Being in the middle of a fight and manipulating the field knowing that I’m giving you a good clear shot, watching them fall when I get it right---and I always get it right.” Pella’s eyes were bright, and it was the closest to flushed anyone would ever see her. “You always get it right. I watched you. You knew where I was, you practically placed them for me.” Steven grinned. He was the one who faded into the background, who disappeared, but he was all right with being invisible and being unseen. “I always know where you are. It’s easier than it looks. I won’t pretend it’s not hard on the shoulders, though.” Pella rolled them, making a face for effect. She never flinched naturally. “Oh, I’m sorry, do you need a massage after a long day of getting yourself stabbed?” Steven asked, pouting. He tossed her back to lie down on her stomach so he could press his hands against her back. Pella hit the bed with an oof and stretched out her arms, tucking them under her head. “I think I do, it was stressful.” Steven dug the heels of his hands against her back. He was hard with massages; she was tough and could take it. “Yeah, by the way, I’m making you pay for the damage done to the back seat. All that blood is going to be a bitch to clean.” Pause. “How are you feeling?” “About what?” Because she felt physically fine. Better, now that Steven’s hands were working out the knots in her back. “About the fact that you were stabbed a couple times----but by the sound of that, it sounds like you’re completely fine.” “I’m fine.” Pella shifted her weight so she could turn over, exposing her belly. “Did you want to check?” Surprisingly, Steven took it seriously, pushing her shirt further up and inspecting her body for wounds. “That healer kid does a good job,” he said. He pressed his hand flat against her, relieved. “I knew a stab wound wasn’t going to get you.” “Of course not.” Pella had told him about a week ago that she wasn’t going to keep hitting on him, but... you know what, nobody was perfect. She was completely controlled with most other things. Shutting herself off from Steven wasn’t something she could do. Resting her hand over his, she added, “See? Completely fine.” Steven bowed his head, smiling quietly to himself. “Right. Completely. Everything is fine.” |