open roleplay post.

[neveryourmask]

open roleplay post; consult active cast list (pending update). shipping and nc-17 content is fine. i also like action, genre aus, canon compliant and canon divergent things, and pretend tdms. feel free to plurk me if you want to bounce an idea. leave me prompts, starters, blank comments, whatever your dark heart desires. current links to meme starters/blank comments can be found here. i am periodically slow to tag due to prioritising games and life things.

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[propulsion]

[ Cute, Steve. Tony would never stoop so low as to picture what their inevitable reunion might look like and how apologetic Rogers might be during BUT IF HE DID--

He folds his hands together and leans his elbow on the bar top. It's taking effort to reframe this as a scenario in which Steve is offering something as opposed to demanding something, and Tony centres his attention on the Hershey kiss sitting in front of him as he contemplates clicking over from one status to the other.

He sniffs. Quick irritated nose flare. ]

Crap, [ he says, shortly. ] Obviously, that's why you're here. [ He takes the little chocolate, fidgeting with the wrapper without opening the thing. ] Hey, you remember all those times we sat down and I asked you a million questions about my dad back in the day?

[ Spoilers: it was none times. ]

Been thinking about him a bit. How he made it work. How nuts that seems.

[superpatriot]

[In all seriousness, Steve had been prepared for more yelling. Obviously he didn't want more yelling, but he was on some level braced for -- a direct reference to Wakanda's relief group, maybe, the casualties of battle. The anniversary was just a few weeks ago. The Accords themselves will be a year old soon.

It's been a long one.

What Steve didn't expect was for Tony to refer to his dad. Indeed. There's little context for that, outside of when a magic glowy scepter mind controls them into peripherally arguing about it, or bad surprises from... Well, other casualties of Avenger related activities. After performing there calculations, Steve decided to Be Careful. Who needs more casualties.]

Are you talking about the job or the family?

[This is new. Wishing he had known and could remember more of the past.]

[propulsion]

[ There's still time.

But probably not today. The yelling, that is. Misgivings feel all at once very personal instead of global and talking casualties is a hell of a hefty rock to throw in this glass house. Tony Stark of Stark Industries never did punch Captain America a lot over the abstracted principle of the thing, after all.

He watches the direction their beer is coming. Uncomfortable but willing. It's like a fun game. ]

I'm talking, [ is passive correction. Meandering his way to the point of the thing. ] But not about the job. [ His gaze swings back around to Steve. ] To you. You quit, 'member? I got the shield gathering dust in my basement to prove it.

[superpatriot]

[Steve smiles a little, but it fades. Not somber at the reminder of his ruthless betrayal (he can smile through that a lot for some creepy reason), but at the matter at hand.]

He got married late. Especially for the culture of the time, and especially for a first marriage. [Steve says this unironically and without meaning to poke fun, probably.] I remember, back when we worked together, he was very dedicated to the science. The government projects. Of course, we had no idea at that time how vulnerable we were to infiltration... [h.y.d.r.a. is super uncool.] That might have changed his attitude.

But-- a lot of the other scientists in the room were pretty close to his age. Their mid-twenties, thirties. Most of them had families to go back to. Kids, even. For them, I think, there was a balancing act. A lot of secrets, long hours at the office, risks of... negligence, I guess.

I don't know exactly what it means, he waited so long to get married to Maria. I wish I'd met her. But I think part of it was, he was on his own time. And the other part, people who were right for him were one in a million, and he wasn't going to get hitched for anything less. [Steve glances up when their beers arrive, nodding this thank-yous. The barman considerately retreats from earshot.]