plays the toughest hand, holds the longest stand Who: Steve Rogers (MCU) When: May 13, early afternoon Where: Cabin in the woods What: Everyone's ok? Everyone's back to normal? Good, unannounced bbl you guys got this right? Rating: PG Status: Complete
In hindsight, he should have left a note, or sent someone a text message. Hindsight was everything, wasn’t it? But honestly, Steve really hadn’t anticipated on his routine early-morning run turning into a trip up to the cabin, tucked far enough away from the city that, had he not been lost in his own thoughts, he would have noticed how long it’d taken him to get there. It was closer to noon now, he noted as he pushed open the door to the cabin. The feeling of his phone giving a few short bursts of vibration in his pocket registered in his mind, but he hadn’t entirely shaken himself away from his thoughts quite yet.
He stepped into the cabin, flicking on a light switch nearby that prompted the ceiling fan into slow, steady circles. A few steps later and he was standing in front of the sink, glass in hand as he filled it with water and drank the entire thing in a single motion. As he settled the glass down on the counter, he leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling. With everything that had happened in the last month alone, it was a wonder he hadn’t come here earlier -- the Tesseract was going nuts, it seemed. It wasn’t that he was surprised. At all, in fact. It’s just that, at this point, he felt a little like he had mental whiplash of some kind. Watching his entire team fall prey to its whims and become lost in these...dreams...well, he wouldn’t have called it a comfort. He’d done his best to reel them in, particularly Natasha and Tony.
Natasha had shot a man -- Grant Ward, as it happened -- and Steve wasn’t even sure how he was going to deal with that when he got back. Obviously Natasha wasn’t in her right mind at the time, and things could have gone significantly worse. He was glad they didn’t, but it still didn’t bring his mind any ease. And then there was Tony, and that was an entirely different mess. I mean, he didn’t hold anything against Tony at all. As was in Natasha’s case, Tony wasn’t himself. He thought he was someone out of a cheesy noir film where everyone spoke in a way that just really confused him. Metaphors everywhere, nicknames, and --
Had Tony been attracted to him? That was a question he wasn’t sure he wanted answered, but there was no use pretending it wasn’t obvious. Clearly he had been under the Tesseract’s influence, and a peck on the cheek wasn’t really anything to write home about.
Now he was just overthinking things. He dug into his pocket and retrieved his phone, the latest in a series of alerts buzzing away having earned his attention at last. As he scrolled down the page, taking note of everyone who had seemed to be coming down from the spell, he absently refilled the glass and took another long drink. For a moment, as he pressed the green call button, he considered calling someone to give them a heads up on his location. But as his thumb lingered over the button, he reconsidered.
Honestly, some peace and quiet was what he wanted. What he needed at this point. He glanced over his shoulder at his silent surroundings, taking in the tranquillity with the kind of reverence only an exhausted man could appreciate. He wouldn’t be here forever, of course -- hell, he probably wouldn’t be here for the full day. But a few hours away wouldn’t hurt, would it? Dorian was right; things were going to happen whether he was there or not, and he believed in his team enough to believe they could handle it. At least for a few hours.
For now, as he put his phone into airplane mode and set in on the counter, he would just relish in the temporary peace he’d found.