Keepertells



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    The doctor pulled out the teacher's chair and sat across from Steve, his hands folded and his face solemn and kindly. "It happens once in a while," he said. His voice was soft and gentle, and irrationally, it made Steve angry. Such ugly news ought to be delivered in a more fitting tone. "The most likely cause is that your intended mate died before you were born or shortly after they were born, before the bond had time to fully form. It's called a Type C or a Type--"

    Steve wasn't interested in the terminology. "Is that why I'm... like this?" He gestured down at his frail, sickly body.

    "Probably," the doctor said. "There are some further tests we can give you, down at the hospital, to determine--"

    "Why bother?" Steve growled, slumping back in his chair and crossing his arms. "My mate is dead and no one else is going to want me, not like this." Tears stung his eyes and he blinked them back furiously.

    "It's also possible, though less likely, that you're a Type A -- firstborn of the pairing -- but that your mate has simply not yet been born," the doctor said.

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    19 Jul 2017

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    “You’ve got war in your heart boy,” Howard sneers, “don’t ever try and pretend to be anything but what you are.”

    Tony feels the familiar burn of a flower mark being etched into his skin but he doesn’t look, doesn’t try and check to see what it is. Instead he keeps his eyes on Howard and his hands cupped around his bleeding mouth and nose.

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    19 Jul 2017

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    /Old man/Tony thinks, resigned. /This could be my sea. Space, the final frontier./

    Steve thinks as hard as he can: come home.

    /Not like anyone's waiting for me back on earth, anyways./

    Steve puts his fist through a wall.

    [alternately: Tony wanders through space while Steve and Bucky listen to his thoughts]

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    18 Jul 2017

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    Natasha presses her hand over her heart, and – Tony has heard rumors, that her skin is blank, or that she killed her other half, but he doesn’t believe them. “They deserve to know, don’t you think?”

    He looks at the sleeping supersoldiers in his hospital room, thinks of going to bed safe and surrounded and waking up when it’s already light out, when the first pot of coffee is already cold, waking up to Steve’s bedhead and the body-warmed metal of Bucky’s prosthetic hand, waking up whole.

    “They’ve been together for ninety years, Nat,” he says. “They’re practically married. There’s no room for me.”

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    18 Jul 2017

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    Sequel to Rebirth

    Warning Note: Hints of WinterIron -- may/may not progress; possibly one-sided. StOny remains primary pairing.
     
    “And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.” ― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

    Everything seems to be in working order; except one day, after hoping and hoping for a chance to set things right, to prove what he had meant in his letter, that he'd be there for Tony when Tony needs him, Steve is given the opportunity to. It just isn't what he had expected it to be. Not by a long damn shot.

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    18 Jul 2017

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