steve rogers (willingtopay) wrote in the100, @ 2015-04-28 23:33:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, carol danvers / captain marvel (616), steve rogers / captain america (mcu) |
WHO: Steve Rogers & Carol Danvers
WHEN: backdated to right after that Camp Jaha drama!
WHERE: Near Carol’s room to start, and then they go for a walk.
WHAT: FIRST OFFICIAL MEETING. Hugs and awkwardness.
WARNINGS: No, they are Disney in this. … Okay, Steve cusses.
Steve had meant to track Carol down earlier, but between seeing Monty and all of the recent problems at Camp Jaha, there just hadn’t been time. He knew Carol would understand the delay this time. Even after talking to her a short time, he’d felt a strange affinity there, like she understood him on a level most people didn’t. He barely knew her - hadn’t even met her face to face - but already he could tell she was something special. So he felt certain that she’d understand why he had to take some time to talk to Monty, and why he didn’t interfere when she left for the other camp. Some things were more important. They had time. It wasn’t unlimited time, though, no matter how much they’d both survived individually. Steve knew that down to his bones: life was fleeting, even when it seemed like nothing could keep him down. There was always something to lose. Someone to lose. Something terrible right around the corner. He felt like he hadn’t seen anything at all, and too much, all in the same breath. And he was short on friends who got that. He was on his way to her room - Bucky’s, too, he remembered, and instantly felt awkward, like he could be invading his friend’s privacy by showing up unannounced - when he spotted her. Or, at least, he thought it was. Well, there was one way to find out… “I hear I still owe you a hug.” Carol was just leaving her room, closing the door behind her and zipping up her bunker-issue hoodie over the Princess Leia hoodie she'd arrived in. Her blonde hair was tugged up into a messy, haphazard ponytail, and judging from the shorts and sneakers she was likely on her way to the gym or getting ready for a trek outside. The voice caught her off guard, but when she turned and saw him she beamed. She bit down hard on her lip in some attempt to stifle her grin, and she shoved her hands into the pockets of her hoodie. "Hey there, soldier." She didn't remember much, but she remembered Steve. He'd been a constant during her recovery, had helped her through flashcards and memory exercises, trying to recover at least some of what was lost and then replace the rest with facts she should have known. He'd brought her lunches, he'd gone out of his way to visit even though he wasn't obligated to. Even without memories of what he'd done for her before, that meant enough to her to make her so intensely relieved to see him now. She took a few steps forward, peeking at him curiously. "Look at you, you look like a baby." It was clear from the way her face lit up exactly how she felt about him -- or, he reminded himself, the other Steve. He wasn’t the guy who’d been her friend, who she’d probably fought besides, who’d sat at her bedside. He wasn’t that guy, but all of those things sounded like something he would do, so maybe he wasn’t that different after all. He couldn’t help but grin back at her as she approached, his never faltering. As strange as it was to be faced with the reality of multiple universes all of a sudden, it was reassuring to know that he was here with friends, even if they weren’t all his yet. Yet. He’d meant what he’d said: an Avenger was still an Avenger in his books, no matter the universe. The same was true for a Howling Commando, or a Commando’s grandson. Once someone was family to Steve, that was it. “I have heard I look good for ninety-six,” he answered. “But I don’t usually hear I look like a baby. Should I thank you?” Steve really did look young, like he'd barely lived through anything yet. The Steve she knew seemed older, darker, maybe a little wiser -- never beaten down but maybe tired. They all were, to an extent. The world was always ending, there was always a crisis. Every year seemed to last three, or four, or even ten years. Some days she felt sixty-five instead of thirty-five. But this Steve didn't have any of that, and while it was unfamiliar it was almost cute. She didn't know much about his world, but she had a damn good feeling that he hadn't been unfrozen for all that long. So she just chuckled, opening up her arms. "Come here, soldier." She closed the gap between them and wrapped him up in a big hug, squeezing him tight. She wasn't much shorter than he was, and with the way she hugged him it was clear that she could probably just lift him right up off his feet like he weighed no more than a feather. She patted him on the back before mussing his hair as she pulled away. "I mean, shit. It's you, but it's … not you, I can't explain it." Steve wondered what about him looked young, or if she meant inexperienced? The thought didn’t bother him much. He knew it was true. There was so much he didn’t know about the world he’d woken up in, so much he still had to learn, so much he and his friends still had ahead of them. Steve never wanted to lose that feeling, no matter where he was. He never wanted to start thinking he had everything figured out. The woman hugging him, and her familiarity and how he could feel at home with someone he’d just met, was proof that he didn’t. The hallway they were standing in was, too. He felt his cheeks warm with a blush as she ruffled his hair, and he looked down at his shoes, bashful for a moment. When he looked back up, he looked worried instead, a little uncertain. “Is it weird for you?” Sure, she’d been glad to see him, but… it had to be disappointing, too. She’d look at him and not see the person he was supposed to be. “Me, but not me?” "It ..." Carol tipped her head slightly, reaching back to tug her ponytail a bit tighter. "Yeah, it is, but with what happened to my head, it's only fair. I've been looking at people like they're strangers and I'm not hiding it very well," she said, looking down at her toes. "So to have you not know me, it's probably payback." She offered him a crooked smile, planting her hands on her hips. "But, ah. Puts us back at square one, sort of, doesn't it? Means you can get to know me all over again." It was a chance to re-meet old friends without all the mistakes she knew she'd made, without fights and damaged friendships and other baggage she could barely remember now. Did it hurt? Yeah, it did. But she was a big girl, she'd push past it. “That’s right. Something tells me that’s gonna be a hell of a ride.” He smiled fondly at her, not entirely convinced that it was a good thing he wasn’t the other guy, but there was nothing they could do about that. If she was still willing to talk to him, that was all he could ask for. Maybe it he said it enough times - that it was okay that he wasn’t who she expected - he’d start to believe it. “And,” he continued, “you can get to know me, too, without feeling like you’re missing something all the time. We’re on even ground.” That, at least, had to be something of a relief for her. Steve couldn’t really imagine what it was like to not remember parts of his life. As hard as he tried to empathize with Bucky’s predicament, he knew he didn’t understand. He wouldn’t understand unless it happened to him. All he could really do was try to make it easier. “Where were you headed?” "Out on a walk," Carol said, hopping a little from foot to foot. "Honestly, I'm going a little stir-crazy in here. I don't do underground bunkers real well." She hated being confined, hated feeling closed in on all sides. She wanted to fly, wanted the open air around her, wanted the freedom to go wherever she chose. Being cooped up in a bunker, no matter how big and cool the bunker was, really didn't make for a great home. She started to smirk, taking a few steps backward down the hall and expecting Steve to follow. "If I told you that I have an apartment in the Statue of Liberty, you'd say …" Steve understood, even if spreading his wings was in a more figurative sense than literal. He was used to coming and going as he pleased, now that he was free from the shackles that SHIELD once had on him. He didn't answer to anyone or anything but the other Avengers and what was right for everyone else. Here, there were other people to answer to, and no one had any answers. As hard as it'd been to adjust to the New York of the 21st century, he missed it now that he was in a world where it no longer existed. But he was nothing if not adaptable. He'd find a way, here, eventually. He followed, catching up to her with a few long strides. She hadn't asked, but he could sense an invitation when he saw one. At least better than he used to, anyway, although he knew Natasha would have disagreed with him about that. She probably thought he still needed practice, talking to women. "I'd say bullshit," he answered, eyebrows shooting upwards skeptically. "If I can't get an apartment there, no one else should be able to. What sort of twisted universe would that be?" Carol's mouth tightened and she tried not to grin at his use of language. If she hadn't been holding it in, she would have let out a cackle. "Oh, no, soldier, I just moved into the most insane real estate in the city," she said, tossing her hands up. "Looks like you've got some kind of competition for most American American, Steve, I don't know if you can handle it. They're going to start calling me Patriot Lady, or Liberty Belle, or Captain Am — aw, no, that's you." Honestly, the absurdity of it all hit her whenever she said it out loud, and it wasn't like she'd had a chance to settle in. It didn't feel like home, but … nothing really did, these days. Ever since losing her memories, she'd felt disconnected from friends and family, and honestly didn't know what to do with herself. She desperately wanted those friendships, but felt like she wasn't contributing much. Being here with friends who looked at her like a stranger was probably one of the best things to happen, if she was being completely frank with herself. She snickered and looked down at her shoes. "I don't know," she said with a bit of a sigh. "You can take it, if you were in my world. I don't really know if I'll stick around." “Well… shucks,” Steve sighed, feigning a pout. “I don’t know if I can handle it either. I want to say that the American thing to do would be to fight you for it, but…” He wrinkled his nose. Even though he was joking, he couldn’t keep that thought going. It wouldn’t have been right. She probably deserved it just as much - maybe even more. There were still plenty of people who didn’t think he was worthy of the name Captain America, after what happened with SHIELD and HYDRA. He couldn’t blame them. He arched a brow as he looked at her. “Where would you go? I need a new place to stay, after everything… all my old places were probably bugged.” Carol shrugged, looking up toward the ceiling. "I don't know. Space," she said. "Somewhere out in space, just get away from Earth for a while and try to get a little perspective on where my life's headed. I know that, um, the last time my memories were wiped, I headed out there for a while. I don't remember what happened, but it doesn't seem like a bad idea." She glanced back up at him, reaching out to clap him on the arm. "Come on outside with me. Maybe if we're lucky we'll fight a mountain lion. You can tell me all about you." Though he wanted to ask Carol what she did out there, he didn’t. It wasn’t easy to remember that she might not, particularly when his first instinct was to ask questions, and Steve didn’t want to make it harder on her. Of course, trying to recall something might help… but not if it stressed her out. More than that, though, he had a feeling it wasn’t something she wanted to talk about. Not yet. “I can’t think of a better way to get to know someone than that. You can ask me anything you want.” He held his arms out. “I’m all yours, at least for a little while. You’ll have to share when we get back. It seems a lot of people here know who I am.” "All mine?" Carol grinned, somewhere between flirting and being a sisterly tease. "It — well, a lot of people do know you. You've got people from my world that you've never met. And I'm getting the feeling a lot of people might know you for other reasons." Universes here intersected and overlapped in the form of fiction, and it probably should have freaked her out more than it did. "But I don't know you, not beyond basics. Steve Rogers, super soldier, Captain America … you were in World War II and then you were frozen in ice, and then beyond that …?" She shrugged. "Truth, justice, and the American way?" Though Steve had gotten used to the fame, as much as someone like him could ever get used to it, it was unsettling to meet people who knew him because they were teammates, and he’d never met them. Steve felt simultaneously guilty for not knowing, and curious about who he was to them. He didn’t want to slip up again like he had with Carol. If there was someone he should know, he wanted to know who they were. … That list of names could come later, though. Between Carol and Jan, he felt confident he’d end up with a good grasp of the other set of Avengers. (But, he wondered, if there were two sets so far, how many more could there be?) His smile was a little sad, a little wistful, and he shrugged. “I’m…” Truthfully, Steve didn’t have a lot of time to figure out who Steve Rogers was. He knew who he’d been before the serum, and after - Captain America’s work was non-stop, after, leaving him with no breathing room. That was what he’d always wanted, wasn’t it? To make a difference? When the helmet came off and he set the shield down, who was he? “I know I like Star Wars over Star Trek, and I’m really bad at asking women out on dates,” he joked, trying in vain to keep the mood light. It wasn’t working. “I guess truth, justice and the American way isn’t far off. When I joined the Army, I just wanted to stand up for what was right. To do something more, to make the world a better place. It’s surprising how little time you get to yourself when you’re trying to save everyone.” He paused, glancing at her for a moment. “One of my favorite things - when I get a chance, which isn’t often. Before I got here, I was trying to track Bucky down, and deal with HYDRA… anyway, there are these kids in the city. Lower income families. Kids who’ve spent a lot of time on the streets, like I did when I was young. Getting into trouble, not going to school, unable to… see a future for themselves, no matter what their parents did. There’s an art program where the teachers try to nurture their talents, and give them an outlet they don’t have. I used stop in sometimes, see how they’re doing. That’s… that’s me. You know, the people - they’re the reason I do any of it. And they need a lot more than for me to stop an alien invasion. But it’s hard… I’m just Captain America to everyone. Not that I’m complaining. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t want to. I just don’t get a chance to be someone else very often, even if that someone else is me.” Carol listened patiently, walking slowly rather than her regular pace -- which was fast, direct, like she was always racing to get somewhere even if she didn't have an exact destination. She slowed it down for the sake of listening, a slight smile tugging at her mouth. She understood. God, she understood. She did her best to live her life, but being a superhero came first. And honestly, she was fine with that. She was kind of a screwup, anyway, and putting on the suit and doing something right made her feel like she was doing the most good -- and if she could punch a few bad guys, it was easier than dealing with the fact that she couldn't remember names and events. But someone like Steve? He probably wanted to just be a person, and Captain America was always going to come first. "Star Wars is way better, by the way," she said with a little smirk. "But if -- mm. If you weren't Captain America, if you weren't this, what would you do? Teach art?" Steve opened his mouth in reply, and then hesitated, unsure of what he really wanted to say. There’d been a time he’d thought that might be a good option, but truthfully, he wasn’t sure what he would do. He could dream -- and he had big dreams, for what he wanted the world to look like, for the day he finally got to set the shield down and retire. He imagined a home in Brooklyn, somewhere quiet where all his neighbors knew one another, where the shop owners on the street knew all the regulars and everyone looked out for each other. Sometimes he’d imagine sharing a quiet life with someone else, but that person was often Peggy, or Bucky, and neither of those options were possible. The more likely scenario was that he would live and die as Captain America. He had to be okay with that, somehow. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t know… Captain America’s been part of my life long enough now that I don’t know what it would look like without it. If I’d never been selected for that experiment…” That life he could see. He never would have seen Bucky again. He would have gone to school, worked menial jobs to pay the rent. If he was lucky, his art could have helped ease the strain. It wouldn’t have been much to write home about. Steve shook his head. “If I got to retire, then yeah, maybe that’s what I’d do. Help kids who remind me too much of me and Bucky make a better life for themselves. But we both know there isn’t going to be a day where I can step down. This is all there is.” "Is that really so bad, though?" Carol smiled with a little uncertainty, tipping her head to get a better look at his expression. "You're Captain America." And part of the reason why he was special was because he was humble, because he didn't let being Captain America go to his head in some kind of grab for power. Carol might have been getting to know him again in a lot of ways after her injury, but she knew he was special in ways she couldn't quite explain. She knew a lot of heroes, knew a lot of people who donned costumes and masks, and they weren't all selfless. They weren't all humble. A lot of them did what they did out of self-loathing, or ego-driven mania. But Steve? Steve wasn't like that. "You've got the chance to do a lot of good, not just directly but … as a symbol. As someone to look up to. There are kids like you and Bucky who can have someone to admire." She scrunched her nose, starting to grin. "Not saying that doesn't put a cramp in things when you want to, I don't know, date. Fame's a bitch." Steve chuckled. “Yeah. Fame’s a bitch,” he echoed. “I can’t remember the last time I got to go on a date.” He wrinkled his nose a little as he remembered that it would have been the expo, where he saw Howard Stark’s flying car. “I think the year was 1943.” He wasn’t even sure he wanted to do things like date someone. Despite how much he and Natasha talked about it, and despite how willing he was to go along with her plans to set him up, Steve had never been able to picture how that would fit into his life. A date. Who would even understand? Would he ever be able to be honest with them? The other half of the problem was found in the form of an elderly woman in a nursing home. Steve had trouble letting go. “But no, it’s not so bad. Being Captain America.” He wasn’t just the dancing monkey he used to be. Kids looked to him for inspiration now. That was something special. Whatever hardships he had to go through, there was nothing like seeing the smile on a kid’s face when he or she dressed up like Captain America. “Now that we’re here, I just get to be Steve. It’s been a long time since I could say that. I guess I’m still figuring out who that is.” "Well, you've got time," Carol said fondly. "I mean, so far we're just dealing with basic survival. There's no real need for Cap right now. So we all just … sit and stew with ourselves, I guess." She wasn't sure whether she could do that. After losing so much of her memory, she really didn't know who Carol Danvers was. She knew facts, she knew her own history, but that didn't mean she felt connected to it. She knew that as Captain Marvel she could be a symbol, and mean something to other people, but she sure as hell wasn't settled with herself. She chuckled, scuffing her toes against the floor as she walked. "Which means that this is just gonna become a den of degradation after a month or two," she said. "If we don't go all Lord of the Flies, it's going to be … wild prank wars and vicious games of truth or dare and, I don't know, orgies." She tossed up her hands. "There's no internet, no television, and there are only so many books in the library. It's going to get reality-show crazy up in here in a while." “Truth or dare I can handle. Orgies?” Steve grimaced. “I can’t even manage a date with one person.” He was wondering the same things Carol was, however. A good number of the people he’d talked to so far were from worlds like his own, at least as far as technology was concerned. What would they do without the same kinds of entertainment they were used to? So far, just adjusting to a new world was taking up enough time, but that would wear off eventually. “Reality show crazy… are you thinking Survivor or Real World? Or The Bachelor?” He grinned. “I did research. I can’t believe people actually wanted to watch those shows. But that’s nothing new for me.” "All of the above?" Carol supplied, her expression somewhere between a grin and a grimace. "I'm not even going to lie, I eat that crap up with a spoon. I got so hooked on Rock of Love, I feel completely ashamed of myself." She loved her guilty-pleasure television the same way she loved double mocha fudge ripple ice cream: completely bad for her, but so, so, so addictive. She rubbed the back of her neck, giving her ponytail a little tug. "If it makes you feel better, I literally don't remember the last date I went on," she said, "but I have it on relatively good authority that it was with Spider-Man." “I think I’d be good at Survivor. The other two… not so much.” Although he doubted that would stop Natasha from joking around about submitting him to one of those shows. It would be too much of a security risk, but he probably would be a hit, and a ratings-bonanza for a lucky network… Well, it didn’t really matter. Steve offered a sympathetic smile. “Hopefully it was a good date. My last date… I think I ditched her for the Army. And the next girl I stood up because I crashed a plane into the Arctic. Maybe we’ll have better luck here?” He nudged her gently with an elbow. “You never know. Fresh start and all.” Carol really wished she could remember her date with Peter. She knew it happened, she had a vague recollection of it not going as planned, but the rest was a blank. Clearly, nothing actually came from it, because she and Peter were pretty far from an item — but she wouldn't say no if he'd asked her out again, which … was never going to happen. So at the mention of having better luck, she tried to avoid rolling her eyes, and she nudged him right back — albeit a little harder than he'd done to her. She was a little too rough for her own good, more of a tomboy than a lady, and sometimes she forgot that she could punch a hole in the side of a bus. She chuckled, and it came along with a little snort. "Oh, yeah, this seems like a really romantic place to try and hook up with a boy from another universe," she said, rubbing at her elbow. When she glanced up to meet his eyes, her cheeks went hot and she quickly averted her gaze to stare down the length of the hallway. "I mean, who knows when you'll get another chance, right? There's this, uh. There's this guy who's a mechanic, wears plaid, looks really hot covered in grease, I might try to jump that train before it leaves the station." Did she really just say that? In front of Steve? God, why was she talking? “When you put it that way…” Steve’s own cheeks turned pink to match hers, and he laughed nervously. How had they ended up here? As he thought about it, though, the whole ending up in a different universe where the world had been devastated by a nuclear war thing, he wasn’t sure it was any less romantic than the rest of his life. He certainly hadn’t met very many women while working for SHIELD, or at least none that he wanted to date, and the one girl he had asked out had turned out to be an agent send to watch over him. His luck wasn’t great back home, so maybe it would be better in a post-apocalyptic world. He couldn’t imagine it getting worse. Steve glanced back at Carol as she described the mechanic, a little surprised. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not,” he stated, looking about as awkward as he felt, “but on the off chance you’re serious… well, take it from me, you don’t want to have regrets. I lost the only chance I had with someone special because we… we put our jobs first, and I guess we always figured we’d have time after the war. By the time SHIELD found me again, I’d missed my chance by decades. So - so, you know. If your heart tells you something feels right, I’d listen. You might not get another chance.” "Yeah, that sounds about right," Carol said, folding her arms across her chest. She was self-conscious now, fully aware that she'd just elbowed Captain America like a bro rather than making some attempt to be like a girl. Not that it mattered; even without all her memories, Carol knew she was more or less one of the boys. She had her female friends, sure, but they all somehow managed to handle feminine a lot better than she did. Then again, they weren't superpowered tanks. Besides, seriously, were her cheeks red? Shit, was she blushing? Steve wasn't any more or less attractive here than he was at home, and she was perfectly capable of looking at him like a brother, or like some kind of mentor. He was just so Steve, and while Carol knew him as a person he was just as much a symbol elevated above normal people. Here, he was younger, his energy was different. Now, he mentioned dates, offhandedly, and she was acting like an idiot? Christ. "It, uh. Yeah, maybe I'll talk to him," she said. "Carpe diem, right?" She cleared her throat. It didn’t take a genius to tell that she was uncomfortable. Steve had spent so much time watching other people that he felt pretty confident in his ability to read body language, and all of a sudden hers was reading closed off where it’d been open and friendly before. “...Right.” Had he said something wrong? Steve frowned a little, trying to remember. It was nearly impossible to know what might set someone off when you didn’t know who they were. She knew him - or a version of him - and Steve didn’t know their history. He knew he shouldn’t try to be the Steve she knew, but he still didn’t want to upset her again. “Right,” he repeated. “Carpe diem.” Even years later, he still had no idea how to talk to women. Peggy would have boxed his ears if she could have. He took a deep breath and changed the subject; they’d come a ways in the mountain since he’d found her by her room, and he remembered her comment about fighting a mountain lion. “Come on, let’s go find that mountain lion and you can show me what you’ve got. Deal?” Carol grinned, raising her eyebrows, and she loudly cracked her knuckles. "Deal." |