WHO: Steve Rogers & Quentin Coldwater WHEN: Before the jump, obvy. Possibly on the 2nd. WHERE: The Psychical Kids' Cottage WHAT: Quentin reads a Fillory book to Steve, shows him some magic, and makes Steve love him. WARNINGS: Mentions of sexual violence. STATUS: gdoc, complete!
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Steve finished messaging Quentin on the network and prepared to leave. Apparently, he was going to go get read to. It sounded silly, but for some people, it was soothing. Steve’s mother read to him for a long time, even after he could read things himself. He was often sick in bed and his mother would sit beside him and read, as Steve was too weak to hold up a book. But then she got sick, too.
He got his jacket and left the Avengers house, glad to be out of there. He loved everyone dearly but all they wanted to do was take care of him. They knew he was hurting. He didn’t like that. He’d prefer to keep his pain a secret. Didn’t want to bother anyone with it. And he was supposed to be strong. The pain I speak of is the pain he felt for being out of time, stuffed into a new world twice over, and having feelings for his best friend. A triple threat.
Steve took his bike to the Physical Kids Cottage and was there in no time. Quentin might be surprised on how quick it was. He knocked on the door, hoping Margo wouldn’t answer.
Q wasn’t really the sort of person that hid things. Especially feelings. At least not most of the time. He’d tried recently to work on his wards, which was more for his sake than Penny’s. Some things, he didn’t really want Penny to hear. Especially since it more often turned into public news before too long and he just wanted to keep it to himself. He didn’t need it being something to laugh at where Alice could see it.
He’d made his way downstairs so he could wait for Steve. He didn’t really want Margo answering the door. Especially after their last conversation. That could be a little awkward. So he prefered not to let her be the one to possibly answer the door. Which meant waiting downstairs.
When he heard the knock, he blinked at the door for a moment before looking at his watch and then moved to the door. “You weren’t kidding when you said you’d be over soon.”
Steve shrugged. “I told you, nothing better to do.” Then he quickly backpedaled, “Not like I’m visiting you out of boredom. I really want to hear about Fillory.” He was wearing flannel, which went good with the beard. It was winter, he could get away with it, even in Texas. “So, are we going up to your room?” He hadn’t seen it. Steve actually hadn’t spent a lot of time with Quentin, just talked to him on the network. Then there was the dance and the visit to the Avengers home to see his shield. So it was nice to actually be in the other man’s presence.
“I’d have been really…” He paused. “Actually I’d have understood.” He shrugged slightly. The only people he didn’t expect to put up with him out of boredom were Eliot and Kylo. Everyone else he could deal with. He’d hope Alice wouldn’t just talk to him out of boredom, though. That would sting a little. “So don’t worry about it. Plus, I’m obsessed with Fillory, so it works out for everyone.”
Had this not been a situation where he was spending time with Steve, he probably would have made some sort of comment about a guy asking to go to his room. Instead, he nodded. “Come on. I’ll show you.” He led the way upstairs. It wasn’t exactly neat, but it also wasn’t embarrassingly messy either. There was a bookshelf to the right of the bed (if you were sitting on the bed), the curtains were closed, his bed was actually made, and there was a standing light with various things hanging off of it. One of those things being a set of headphones. “Uh. You can sit on the bed if you want...or wherever.”
Steve shook his head and reached out to touch Quentin’s shoulder, “Come on,” he scolded. Steve seemed like the kind of guy that had it all together but he really was a lot like Quentin. He felt people just put up with him because they felt sorry for him. The 99 year old dork who didn’t know what to do with himself.
Once in his room, Steve nodded, “Looks a little like my room, actually.” Except his had a bunch of framed art that he hadn’t hung yet. And books stacked up haphazardly. He crossed over to the bed and sat on the floor, his back against the bed. His head lolled back and rested on the bed, and he crossed his hands over his stomach. “Ready for storytime.”
Carefully climbing onto the bed, Q studied Steve quietly for a moment. It was kind of surreal. He looked away after a moment before reaching to grab for the books. If anyone had read Narnia, it probably sounded really similar. Only things were darker than the books led to believe. Still, he read out loud for a while. He didn’t think they were going to finish the book, but he’d read a little. It did help to distract him. He had a feeling if he let himself think about it too much, he’d draw lines to Alice, but that was just how things were.
After a while, he paused. “It’s not like that now, you know? It’s...kind of terrible, actually. We thought one of the gods was dead, but it turned out that he wasn’t. His brother’s sort of just driving everything into the ground because he’s decided he’s bored.” There was a sigh. “We tricked a god into going back to a place he said he’d never go back to. I’m not really sure how that’s going to go. I came in before I could figure it out.” He shrugged slightly. “At least The Beast isn’t around anymore.” But he had to ask if he should call him that. “Martin Chatwin, one of the kids eventually forces his way back in and becomes The Beast. He tried to kill us. He killed his sister.” Q sighed. “He killed Alice. Sort of. She became a Niffin to defeat him. I didn’t really have time to deal with it because then I was in a coma for a really long time. Months, really.”
Steve missed out on Narnia, he was in the ice by that point. But he read a lot of fantasy books when he was a kid-- after his mom died. He buried himself in school after that. That and picking fights with guys two times his size. Fantasy and sci-fi weren’t his favorites, but it always ended up what he was reading. He’d start in on art history books and consume them so quickly.
Tilting his head, he looked over at Quentin. He listened intently, nodding along while Quentin spoke. He scoffed at the idea of a god getting bored. “Geez.” When he mentioned Alice, Steve’s face softened. “I know how that feels. I couldn’t deal with Bucky’s death because I was in the war, and after that, I was in ice.”
Q frowned, pulling his knees up against his chest and setting the book off to the side. “Yeah. It’s terrible.” He knew what war was like. Even if it was just war against The Beast. “We’ve been through the same thing…” He paused, recalling the number. “Thirty-nine times. I’ve died a lot. I don’t remember it, though.” He sighed. “Jane Chatwin kept us all in a time loop. When we failed, we’d just start over. Then Martin killed her and there wasn’t going to be a do-over. So I suggested that Alice be the one. She had to…” He paused again, focusing on Steve’s face. “You don’t want to know about that part. Anyway, she did something to get more power. My best friend sort of fucked things up by trying to use Martin to kill a god that had...hurt her.” It was putting it lightly. “He a- he raped her and killed all her friends and the memory was blocked from her until later. She wasn’t really thinking clearly about things. It got more complicated after that.”
He sighed. “So it’s kind of like if I hadn’t asked her to do it, she wouldn’t have died. I would have probably died again and we’d probably not have defeated The B- Martin. It’s a lot, I guess.” He stretched out on the bed before turning on his side and moving so he could face Steve again. “I dove in front of a spell to save her. Hence the coma and the wooden shoulder.” He lightly knocked on his wooden shoulder, letting out a small laugh, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “I miss being excited about Fillory.” He was still obsessed with it, but with the way it had been, with the lies he told himself about it.
“39 times?” Steve repeated, in awe but the sort of disgusted awe. When Quentin skipped over what Alice had to do, Steve made a face, wondering what Quentin was protecting him from. His reactions to the story stretched his face around from grimacing to dropping his mouth open. “That’s not the sort of thing gods are supposed to do..” he said sadly, thinking of Thor and Loki, and the God he believed in. It was confusing to think that there were other gods. Did that mean his prayers about his mother were all for nothing?
“Can I see your shoulder? Or is it something that makes you self conscious?” He was curious, after all, Bucky had a metal arm. “I’m sorry you miss it. I remember wanting so badly to join the army and then now that’s all I know. I’m kind of numb to it.”
There was a nod. “This was forty.” He didn’t know what else there was for it. He looked at Steve’s face, immediately wishing he could apologize for causing that expression. “Yeah, but it’s the sort of thing some of them do. They’re not all Thor.” He’d probably prefer if they were. At least Thor could be trusted. He let out a sigh.
There was a hint of a smile at the question before he started to take off his shirt. He wasn’t sure if this would be awkward, but he was pretty sure Steve had to have seen half-dressed men before. Couldn’t be that weird. Also he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt, so it wasn’t like he could just pull a sleeve back. “I don’t mind, really. It’s just a wooden shoulder.” He considered something for a moment before sliding off the bed next to Steve so it was easier to look at the shoulder. “You can touch it if you want. It’s just kind of weird. I don’t really feel anything there.”
“No, some of them are Loki,” he agreed. But he wasn’t sure Loki was the same kind of monster that could do something like that to someone. He did want power though, and that’s what the act of rape was. His stomach felt gross.
Quentin slid down beside him and he leaned forward, crossing his legs under him. Reaching over, he knocked on the wooden shoulder. “Why wood, though?” He laughed at that, knowing Quentin would have the perfect answer for it. He knew this Fillory place well. “Don’t they have mithril or something?” He gave the other man a pat on the shoulder and pulled back, sitting with his hands in his lap. “Did it hurt? I mean-- I’m sure it did…”
Quentin remembered Loki. He wasn’t sure if Loki was the sort of person that would be like the person that hurt Julia. He really hoped not, because he was pretty sure he couldn’t fight someone like that. But if anyone ever hurt Julia again, he’d be forced to hurt them. Or try to hurt them...and then probably die trying. “Sorry if just putting that out there was...a lot.”
He was very aware of Steve’s hands on his shoulder even if he couldn’t feel them on the wooden part.The part around it still had feeling. “Centaurs,” he replied. That was the only explanation he had. “The centaurs handle the magical healing, so they gave me a wooden shoulder.” He shrugged at that, pulling his shirt back on. “I don’t remember the wooden shoulder part, but the spell hurt.” He looked over at Steve, giving him a sad smile. “I’m sorry that being a soldier didn’t end up the way you wanted it to. At least that’s how it sounds. I guess dreams don’t always end up the way we think they will.”
“It’s okay, that’s life. Not everything is a good story.” Steve didn’t want people to protect him anymore. Like he was some precious child just because he went into the ice in the 40’s. Whenever he brought up something modern they all acted like it was funny. Like a child saying ‘fuck.’
Steve absently tugged on Quentin’s shirt when he pulled it back on, in an attempt to help him get it over his body. He didn’t know why, but he felt comfortable with this … well, not a kid, Quentin was an adult. He felt older than him and not just because he literally was. “It’s all right. I did what had to be done. I’d do it again if I was given the chance.” He meant everything, flying into the ocean, opposing Tony. Everything. “Can you show me some magic? I don’t want to put you on the spot, I’m just curious.”
Quentin nodded. “There’s a lot of bad in our story.” He just wished it could be better. But it wasn’t going to get any better. It was what it was. But somehow this situation made him feel...better. Like he was more comfortable, more at ease. It was usually only like that with Eliot, sometimes Kylo. Even Petunia to a degree. “Probably yours, too.” At least if the comics and movies were anything to go by.
There was a pause as he peered over at Steve. He didn’t know why he’d done that either, but he found it amusing that he’d gone with it. He considered maybe wearing something Eliot helped him pick out next time they hung out. To look a little less...baggy. “Me too, I guess.” But he wanted to be able to stop all the pain of everything. He couldn’t do that, though. It was impossible. Nodding, Quentin made a small fireworks show. It wasn’t anything fancy, nothing like the fireworks outside, but it was magic. He focused for a moment, finding a piece of clothing he wouldn’t miss and stole a page from Margo’s book, turning it into a lizard. He reached over and picked it up, bringing it back and holding it out to Steve. “Want to hold it? I saw Margo do this once with a square in this competition we did. It felt like a very Harry Potter moment.”
Steve shrugged. There was a lot of bad in his story, but it wasn’t that bad. He felt like Quentin had it worse. He often thought like that-- my life has been hard but I’m sure people have had it harder. Both his parents were dead, his best friend was brainwashed, and he was a war criminal. But Quentin and his friends had gruesome, things done to them, worse than death sort of stuff.
The fireworks went off and Steve clapped. He had a big goofy grin on his face, like a golden retriever in a super soldier’s body. When it came to the lizard, he eagerly put his hand out, “Sure, yeah,” hoping there would be no more mention of Margo. She was probably a nice girl but she also might try to hop on Steve so he was worried. “I started to read Harry Potter. But then I came here and there’s a bunch of people here from that world, so I don’t think I’ll continue.” He held the lizard close to Quentin, “Go on, turn it back… or is it permanent?”
Steve’s excitement was probably the best part of the whole situation. It made him feel less sad. He’d needed that at the very least. A little less sadness, a little more...anything else. Quentin found himself smiling a little bit in response to Steve’s smile, which he was pretty sure could classify as an infectious disease. He didn’t tell him that, though. He didn’t want to accidentally insult him.
Margo probably would hop on Steve given half a chance. Quentin may have found Steve attractive, but he wasn’t going to do anything to make him uncomfortable. Dancing was one thing...and Steve was pretty horrible at it, but it had been fun. Plus, they were both sort of dealing with a lot at the moment and it probably would have come off wrong and been a bad idea and he had more than his fair share of bad ideas. Q laughed at that. “I’ve read and watched a lot of movies that a lot of people here are in or from. I try to contain how excited I am about it.” He took the lizard back, trying to figure out what the reverse was, but he couldn’t remember. “I’ll ask someone later how to figure it out. If I can’t, I guess I have a new pet lizard. Woops.” He put the lizard in his lap and looked a little sheepish. “I’m not 100%.” He pulled a coin out of his pocket, flipping it back and forth over his fingers. “I’m really good at parlor tricks.”
Steve was happy to see Quentin smile. He hadn’t seen him do that since they danced-- then again he hadn’t really seen him since that night anyway. Everything they talked about had been online. Steve kind of understood online dating suddenly.
The dance with Quentin was special to Steve for a few reasons. One being that he met Quentin, who turned out to be more than a fanboy. Two, he never got to dance with a man before. The future was awesome, you could show some sort of affection to a man in public and not get your ass kicked. Then again, no one would square up again Steve now that he was a super soldier. But anytime Bucky slung his arm around him when they were younger and somehow better, Steve winced.
He watched the coin, “So, did you always believe in magic?”
Quentin really tried to hide just how much excitement there was at the fact that he was around Steve. It had gotten a little easier not to be such a ridiculous idiot once he got to know him better. He wasn’t just Captain America. He was also a person. Which is why he tried to force himself to think of him as Steve. The dance, well...that had helped him get through a night of having to see Alice dancing with someone else.
“Yeah. Definitely always. Which is probably why I had such a problem growing up.” He shrugged. “Julia and I always pretended that we found our way to Fillory as children. Only...then she stopped and I didn’t.” He shrugged. “I guess when I found out magic was real...it was like coming home. The whole time I’d thought I was crazy, that something was wrong with me and neither thing was true. I was just glad to not be crazy.”
Quentin was doing a good job at being normal around Steve, because he didn’t notice anything. Steve kind of was oblivious to that sort of thing, he didn’t think of himself as that great. He was only great because the serum made him that way. He was made, not born. Everyone told him he was a hero but he was just doing what he thought was right. Why was that so hard?
“It’s not crazy to believe in magic.” Steve grew up in a dark time, but he always had hope, even when the bad shit was happening. So some part of him understood Quentin’s belief in magic. If magic were hope, at least. “It would be okay if you were crazy, you know? Crazy people are still people.”