Alphabet Challenge
2018-Dec-14, Friday 10:18 am26 drabbles, one a day, each associated with a letter.
Steve has never been much of a cook. Growing up during a depression (the Great, Steve's read these days, and he's got no idea what was great about it except it was horrible to live through), food wasn't so much about the taste and presentation as not starving. The serum and the army and War World 2 didn't change much--Steve's lived with hunger his whole life, has always had it gnawing at him, so much so he's long since learned how to ignore it. He eats because he needs it, and he eats well because he can now. But cooking? Well, he's still not really figured that out; his comfort food is sure something different from the excess of food available these days.
Steve's from a different era. That's all.
Sam, though--Sam can cook. Steve likes to watch him in the mornings, shirt stretching across his shoulders, music playing on the counter, and he moves with the music as he flips pancakes and fries eggs. Where Steve only cooks for the fuel, cooking to Sam seems like an art--the careful tilt of a pan for omelettes, and easy and unmeasured (but never, ever too much) dollop of butter into the grits, a sixth sense for when to get the bacon out of the pan.
"This is great," Steve will say, and Sam, always always always, "Just like momma makes. Or close enough," with an easy laugh, and Steve knows, in these moments, just how important food can be, and he wishes he had that connection to it Sam so clearly does.
Steve never tells Sam that. Instead, he tries to make that connection now, with Sam; better late, after all, than never.
Steve's favourite part of Avengers outreach is the hospitals; his least favourite, the museums. He's not sure if it really counts as Avengers outreach anyway; he's usually the only one going, and it's always related to history, but--
It's just there's work that needs doing now he feels gets ignored in the hyperfixation on the then.
"Are you sure this is right?" Steve asks Lillian. She's the new intern, professional and put together and her hair so bright a blue that Steve's actually a bit impressed. Hair dyes sure have come a long way in the intervening decades.
"Positive," Lillian says. "Stark said you'd love to take his place."
Steve considers the itinerary again, and has to admit that, for once, Stark isn't actually wrong. He's... touched. It's thoughtful.
"He's not wrong," Steve says, and he goes to get ready.
It's an art museum. A showcase of the impact of the rise of heroes on modern art, with a whole panel of speakers who actually know what they're talking about, and it's less about Steve spouting off 'what really happened' and more just... being there, a member of the community that's having this effect, and he's not even on any panels, he can just... roam.
It's.... nice.
Thanks, he texts Tony between speakers.
No problem I hate that stuff Tony shoots back, quick and easy, but still--
It's kind, the only way Tony's ever willing to be--in passing, brusque, and every attempt to not seem it.
Hitchiking
It wasn't like Steve had been planning on hitchhiking. It was just his bike had broken down in the middle of nowhere, and hitchhiking ended up being the best way to keep moving while it was being repaired.
He'd called Tony, of course, and the bike was going to be fine; Tony was going to have someone pick it up, and in the meantime Steve wanted (needed?) to keep moving.
Steve knows he's lucky; he's big and intimidating and there's really not much anyone could do to threaten him. Hitch hiking is relatively safe, for him.
It's afternoon when a trucker pulls over, pushing open the passenger-side cab door and waving Steve in. "Where're you headed?" he asks, and Steve says, "Anywhere, really."
It's been a few days now, stopping at truck stops for food, and Steve's learned a little about his ride. Thor's huge, bigger than Steve; he laughs easier and louder, grins wider, and his eyes are so blue they're like the after image of lightning. He's got a cat, all black with bright green eyes, a little inky void who roams around on a harness at stops to explore and spends most the ride sleeping on a specially made cat bed on the front dash. Thor's been doing cross country drives for years now, and he's half deaf in one ear, and it seems like he has friends everywhere they stop.
"It's just something to pass the time," Thor said when Steve asked why he chose to do this. He doesn't say what he's waiting on, and Steve doesn't ask.
Thor's promised to take Steve as far as Steve wants, so long as Steve pays for his own food, and Steve was quick to agree--everywhere they go, Thor has something to say about the area, about the land and the towns and the stars.
Thor knows a lot about stars.
Tony calls when they've stopped to sleep, and Steve creeps out of the cabin, sits on the step and stares up at the night sky. The desert air is cold out here, but the stars have never been clearer.
"You sure you don't want to meet up and get your bike?"
Steve stares up at the stars, and thinks about how large Thor's laughter is, about the warmth of a stranger opening up their little home, and how easy it's been on the road with him.
"I'm sure," Steve says. "But if I change my mind, I'll let you know.
Loki LaFey
Investments &Solutions
and a phone number.
"Your work is quite beautiful," Mr. LaFey says, "and I wouldn't mind it in my office."
"I really haven't done commission work, but I'll let you know."
"Good," LaFey says. He gives Steve's sketchbook one last look, and then he leaves, steps clipped and long and fast, a sharp silhouette against the afternoon light and fall colors.
"Well, I'll be damned," Steve says, turning the card over to find a magpie. He has no idea who this guy is, or if he'll even do work for him but...
it's nice, being approached for his art and not for being Captain America.

maybe all this shit isn't worth it and i'm not having a great time. maybe i got out of it what i wanted? i've now seen these ancient computers operate. i got to see it in crisp RGB on The Good TV, and now like. maybe i'm just Done.
— Graviscera (@gravislizard) December 5, 2018