@humblystark: (offers you 12 long-stemmed sunflowers) please never leave me

i’m going to completely restart this blog over the next few days! let me know if we have something going you want to continue/restart/what have you.

also, i’m ALIVE. sort of. alive enough, anyway.

knightmared:

   “I try to be,” he says, level and calm, even as the words twist up something in his chest. I try to be, he says, and that’s about as honest and as damning as anything he could say. 

   He’s tried to be on time for a lot of things, and he’s missed the mark when it was important. Not very often, but often enough; these days, it’s harder to be where he’s needed, harder to do what’s right and help people, and that’s on him. 

   It’s not that he’d trade his decision for anything -- he’d n e v e r turn his back on Bucky, damn the consequences -- but it’s... a different climate now.

   “You’re a busy man, Mr. Wayne, and I’m not a very popular one right now. Let’s cut to the chase: I want to help, want to serve, but I might cause more trouble than I clean up, right now.”

   Worth it echoes in the back of his mind, and that’s still true, but there’s a cost. There’s always a cost.

   “I’m doing some... covert work.” Or trying to; he’s not built for stealth. “Wanted to let you know that if you need a hand, I’m around. Figured it was a conversation best had in person,” he adds, mouth tipping up into a faint smile.

benignsoldier:

#YOU MEAN THESE

yeah, the ones that’ve got more buckles than a mini van

knightmared:

   “Can’t take me anywhere,” he agrees, raising his eyebrows with what might be a self-deprecating smile, or might just be a smile. “I keep trying to tell people, but nobody listens.”

   Pushing off the wall, he tries to shake the need to look over his shoulder, tries to ignore the vague discomfort that comes from being someone who has to watch his back, always, now, and pulls out a chair instead.

   Eyes flicking to the coffee, he asks, “At least you had company.”

   Referring to the coffee, of course.

humblystark:

   “I was getting to the end of my battle plans,” Steve admits wryly, bringing his free hand up to scratch the back of his neck. Admittedly, just grabbing Tony and kissing him hadn’t been the most solid plan he’d ever come up with -- and he’d been a little appalled by his behavior afterward -- but it had worked out all right in the end.

   “My next plan was just going to be getting you in a thigh hold when we were both in the suit and yelling until things made sense. Hopefully, Matt’s got a better back-up plan.”

   He takes another sip of his coffee, glancing past Tony to the screen to see what he’s working on. 

humblystark:

   Using the French press is a little for Tony, but mostly for Steve. Sure, he’d been able to get by during the war with a cold cup of coffee that tasted more strongly of dirt than anything else, but that didn’t mean he had to settle for it now.

   It’s strange, remembering that -- and how it was a luxury -- and thinking about now, how he has a French press at his disposal, as much coffee as he wants. Out of all the luxuries the future affords, that’s just about the only one he can say he wholeheartedly, immediately embraced.

   His eyes crinkle at the corners as he takes a sip of his own coffee, casually reaching over to comb Tony’s bangs from his forehead.

   “I know, tough guy. Doesn’t mean you can’t let somebody handle your light work now and then.”

   It’s good advice, even delivered teasingly. It’s also advice it’s taken Steve years to even begin to take for himself, but this kind of thing is always easier when it comes to somebody you love.

   “Christmas date, huh?” He rests his hip against the corner of Tony’s desk, sipping his own coffee. “Daredevil?”

   “Hey, one epiphany at a time.”

   He grins, loose and happy, and raises his eyebrows.

   “I’m still coming to terms with realizing I’m an asshole.” A pause. “Or so I’m told.”

   Self-awareness is the first step.

yeah well you’re the jerk who’s my best friend, so what does that say about u

70 years later and ur still a giant nerd, what’s ur point

   “Sorry I’m late.”

   His voice echoes, bounces off the walls like a penny dropped in a tin can, and he offers up a wan smile.

   “Bad habit of mine.”

   He waits until the call ends, a mug of coffee in each hand, a small smile on his face. There’s not a lot of people who are privy to the side of Tony Stark that Steve is, and he’s both grateful for that an immediately sad for it; Tony’s one of the best men he knows, with one of the most caring hearts he’s ever seen, but you wouldn’t know it to look at him.

   Part of him likes having that side of Tony to himself, since so much of him is public, and always will be. Most of him wishes that people would see Tony the way he does, but then, if they did? He’d probably be short one boyfriend.

   Somebody else would have come along and realized what they were missing out on, and Steve's only standing date would still be with a punching bag.

   He pushes off the door frame, padding over with socked feet to lean down and drop a kiss on the top of Tony’s head. “How’s Tony?”

   Because of course Tony was talking to himself. At least this time there was another physical body present, albeit a universe away.

   Expression sobering, he asks, “He doing okay? After... last week?”