apocalypsehowcomm | Log: A (dusty) new arrival

Who: Steve Rogers and OTA (including roomies in apartment B4)
When: March 14th-ish, upon arrival
Where: ADI and ADI housing
Summary: Steve arrives at ADI, bangs around in an air duct and collects lots of dust, then gets briefed and takes a look around, ultimately making it to his new living quarters
Warnings: None yet, will update/warn in threads if needed.

Arrival via air duct
Steve Rogers is not a complete stranger to suddenly finding himself in places he hadn't expected to be.

But it's always unsettling, and this time maybe even more so than any others. He'd been in Asgard one minute, and the next — Well. It's a good thing he doesn't have asthma anymore. Because wherever he is, it's dark, cramped, and full of dust.

He also feels… kind of like shit. Weak. Disoriented. Actually, a lot like the old asthma attacks, just with (fortunately) less gasping and choking. Okay, some minor gasping and choking. It's really dusty in here.

Where he'd normally just consider breaking through the damn side of the duct — because yeah, okay, this is an air duct, he's pretty sure — he both feels unsteady enough not to try and unsure enough of where he is that he… probably shouldn't? Not until he knows more. Which has him crawling forward, Mjolnir's strap looped around one wrist, until he spots a vent up ahead. Plan A, then: Kick it in and get the hell out of here. And hope for the best.

(Hope he fits through the vent, in the first place.)

Looking around, settling in
Steve Rogers is also not unaccustomed to the idea of preventing the apocalypse. What he is unaccustomed to is the idea that using any of the abilities the serum grants him requires terrorizing and murdering people. That's just —

Well. He's lived more of his life without superhuman abilities than not. He'll just… not use them, for now.

It is frustrating. He was in the middle of mission. It was, you know, kind of important. But he's still got the soul stone tucked safely away, even if his quantum suit seems to have disappeared (collapsed into the watch, he has to assume, but he can't reactivate it), and if he's needed here, then he supposes he can afford the pit stop. Technically, he's got all the time in the world. Right?

So, he decides to take a look around ADI, still in his dusty Captain America uniform as he walks the halls and pokes his head into offices, the gym, the canteen, and the library. He maybe pokes around for something to eat in the canteen (he's... very hungry) and then stops to study the local maps and directories in the library, committing them to memory.

He finally makes it to the apartments. By the time he shows up at the right door — B4 — he's at least wearing jeans and a hoodie, although his hair is a still bit dusty and there's still that hefty warhammer in one hand. He figures he might as well knock instead of just walking in. It might be his place, now, but it seems like a little politeness is the safer option when meeting potentially apocalypse-averting teammates.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

We lost people, [Steve confirms, because for all that he might lie by omission, moving forward, because he feels very strongly that that's what's going to happen, he will not outright lie. Not to this man. Not guessing - seeing - how he feels about all of it. This shitty, shitty situation.] And whether you want to believe me or not... I'm telling you the truth when I say that if thought I could find a way to win better? I would do it.

So I know you would, too.

[His mouth twists, and he takes a sip of coffee because there is a momentary feeling that if he doesn't occupy his mouth with something, it might open and spill out everything, no matter how much he isn't sure whether he should. No matter how much he... has some ideas about winning better. Some ideas that he could be very, very tempted to talk out with Tony.

This place seems to be as much about temptation to do what you shouldn't as the potential ending of the world, if Winter is to be believed.]

I can't imagine me sitting here and telling you nothing is going to really make us closer friends, though, [he finally admits, glancing up at Tony, tone trying for something... if not exactly wry, joking, than approaching it sideways. Maybe. How else do you get through the end of the world, but by joking about it, at least a little?]

[ So that instinct that Tony had about Strange, the one where he doesn't think the dude would lie? That's more than instinct when it comes to Steve, and it isn't just the whole Good Guy Captain America schtick, either; Tony's faith in that honesty used to come as intrinsically as breathing, and even now he knows the man wouldn't lie about something like this. So hearing that confirmation, the finality in his words and the barely-perceptible but very real grief that colors them, Tony suddenly feels a different kind of anxiety hit like a bullet straight to the heart.

He'd wanted answers so badly he'd lost his mind before. Just a second ago he'd nearly shouted to get them. Now, he can't think of anything in the entire universe that he wants less than to know what they'd lost on that battlefield to win.

So he's much more grateful than he wants to admit when Steve kind-of sort-of changes the subject, attempting to tug this dire mood upward somehow, however lamely. And yeah, it's a lame attempt, and Steve is lame, but Tony is so grateful he could cry. Because he doesn't want to know who they lost. Doesn't, doesn't, doesn't. ]

You say that like it's something you want. [ Oof. That should have been a joke right back, but Tony's too raw apparently. It comes out far more vulnerable than he wants it to. ]

[Well, it's not quite a joke, but it does make Steve laugh. Just a little. (More than a little helplessly.)]

I think it is.

[He glances at Tony, though, and amends:] It is.

[God, he misses Tony. He really does. He's missed him for years, honestly, and he's no small amount of grateful they managed to get past it in the end, but there was nothing past that because it was the end, and now -

Now, it feels like he has a second chance. He doesn't want to waste it. And he can't tell Tony any of that.]

But that's the kinda thing that has to be mutual, [he admits, one corner of his mouth quirking up, before he hides it in a slow sip.

He wants to say he'll respect if it's not, but Tony's reaction to Steve saying he'd steer clear was pretty, well. Clear, too.]

We could start fresh. Or you could tell me exactly everything you hate about how I've handled the situation, first. Either way.

[He actually means that. This is an olive branch. If Tony is too close to it, still. If he needs to get it off his chest, lay into Steve will take his lumps.]

[ Sure Tony had been only half-kidding, had only scraped a flimsy veneer over an ugly reality that makes him feel far too vulnerable, but it still takes him aback to receive such a straightforward answer. It really shouldn't; Steve is a lot of things, but he isn't a bullshitter. But maybe Tony has been guarding himself way too closely for way too long.

Still. He has no idea how to respond.

There's very little Tony's big expressive eyes can hide, and he's very aware of that unfortunate fact, so he has been determinedly looking at everything in the apartment but Steve this entire time--and he keeps them fixed on the ground for a while, for as long a pause as he can get away with. In the end they up having a mind of their own, though, and at last lift up and blink over at the man next to him in all their soulful, puppy-dog glory.

And, well, shit. He's got to be honest now. ]

The worst thing is that you left. It always was.

Edited 2022-06-19 00:22 (UTC)

[That - hurts, but it's not entirely unexpected. Or unwarranted. Steve knows that.]

I thought it was the best thing I can do, [he offers, softly, turning the mug around and around in his hands for a moment. He's not ashamed of the decision. But he understands, now, that it might have been necessary. But maybe it wasn't the best.]

When Buck and I used to fight, [he starts, a moment later, voice still quiet, eyes still on the mug, trying to give them both a little mental space while he tries to figure out how to explain.] We'd get real heated up about it. Usually the only way out was to walk it off. We weren't ever gonna see eye to eye, change each other's minds about the important stuff. So we had to just walk away, and know we'd come back.

[He glances up at Tony.] I'm sorry. If I ever made you think that I would walk away and never come back.

[Because that had never been the plan. But he can see, with the benefit of hindsight, that it probably really, really looked that way.]

[ Tony shakes his head. His fury and indignation may have worn away like scraped asphalt, but he still needs Steve to understand. ]

You told me you'd come if I needed you. You said we'd beat Thanos together, I said we'd lose, and you said we'll do that together too. Don't you get it? We lost, and you weren't there.

[ Tony's eyes prickle so he quickly looks away again, hand moving to hold his temple and hide whatever is trying to happen there. He's so tired all of a sudden. ]

I needed you, and you weren't there.

I was there, [Steve says, throat feeling raw, words, feeling scraped out of him.] Maybe - not how you envisioned. Which - I'm sorry for that, Tony. I'm sorry.

But I was there. I was left behind. Just like you.

[He will never, ever forget the sight of Bucky crumbling away before his eyes. The sound of his voice. Yeah, yeah, eidetic memory and all, but... it haunts him. Just like the memory of watching Bucky fall from that train.

Honestly, a little like the memory of watching Stark fall from a hole in the sky over New York in 2012. More so, maybe of watching him snap his fingers on a battlefield.]

I lost, too, [he admits, quietly.] Even if you weren't there to see it.

[But - shit. Shit. That sounds selfish and cruel. It's an excuse.] I can't take it back. I don't know if I can make it right. Maybe I can't.

Log: A (dusty) new arrival

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Sorry for the wait! <3

Not at alllll <3

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