Kill your heroes and fly

“We are entering the warmer seasons, so I do not require the same sort of protection that I did when I first arrived…and it was entering winter.” That was quite the hellish time. Snow was practically the enemy of a Vulcan, so used to hot sand and barely used to the so called comfortable temperature that majority of the ship had been set on.

“I have seen many from alternate realities, but never one where my kind were fictional. I do hope these fictional portrayals are at least accurate…” He was now recalling that Vulcans were in some fictional media on Earth, but it was always crude. The Vulcans were always played by humans with obviously fake ears.

“That’s true, I’m looking forward to having a day by the pool and not wearing two or more layers.. even if when I’m outside, my armour is heated. Then again, the last thing you want is to walk around trapped in an armour all day“, he nodded. He was lucky; Hive’s weather and temperature were both very similar to Earth’s, but others were unlucky and had a lot of issues to deal with that he didn’t really consider.

 On his approximately year since his arrival to this city, Fair had assumed he had seen it all. In which case by case basis perhaps he had, but the sight of a man swooping down from the sky on a full armored suit still managed to catch the ex-SOLDIER in some sorts and aspects of surprise. Evidently displayed through his expression. Forefinger rose, lips set slightly apart, in means to indulge the armored knight in crimson and gold in regards to the rhetorical query that whisked passed lips hidden behind a metal mask, but Zack ceased mentioned indulgence as the armored knight continued. “Distress signal?” Zack’s demeanor was immediate in its change, such as those of seasons early upon their arrival. He stood up and straightened his posture. “Ya’ can count me in!” A fist, firm in its might, rested upon his armor plated chest. “Just lead the way, I’ll follow” Fair bobbed his head — assuming the other would be considerate of their differences in sorts of transportation that was. Since Zack can not fly even if perhaps he desired to have been able to be blessed with such grace. “Uh — least follow as best as I can that is.” He added cheaply with one of his signature shrugs.

While she was more numb to the concept of lashing out, it would seem there would be even more problems to be had in the future , perhaps the gangs were simply teenagers lashing out on the society of Hive city. 

  “….”

 “….” 

Points the police poster, as if wanting for him to explain further about that. 

“Joining it wouldn’t be for me, law enforcement wasn’t my thing, I think I have my hands pretty full being a CEO of my company and coleading the Avengers... but I suspect that people that don’t like our title will be interested in joining.“

He looked at her pointing at the posters again, getting the signal that she was trying to convey.

Now it was a matter of doing what she does best, standing silent while the world moves on to their evolution. While humanity was not ready for the next step of evolution, she could not stop it. 

 “….”

Her gaze falls to the new posters scattered about, showing names of Gangs and Police  recruitment. 

 “….”

No further reply, but at least she did show her gratitude with her gestures, following her gaze quite curiously; those were new posters indeed, and he frowned at the mention of a gang or two forming.

“I suppose I am living as comfortably as I can. I am a Vulcan, and on my planet it was very hot, so I seem to be always cold. I am also not used to sharing my living space with others…” He always knew humans had very illogical idiosyncrasies, but the ones he’d seen in his fellow ship-mates were nothing compared to that of a teenage girl and her pet pig.

“Television?” The only media Vulcans produced were educational documentaries. “I believe you have me mistaken for someone else.”  

“That must be uncomfortable - so you wear more layers? What about thermal wear? I could hook you up with something, if you’re in need for more clothing to stay warm? As for living conditions.. well, that’s something most of us have to live with, I guess.“ He would admit that living among strangers at first wasn’t ideal in the slightest,it was even downright unsettling sometimes.

A gentle blow across, memories of food too hot flitting across her mind as she takes a sample. It was good enough, but it had no love like the food she was used to. However it was simply, a normal muffin. 

Nothing special. 

After finishing half of it, she stares expectantly at the genius inventor -who was in the same league as her father once she saw all his blue prints if given the chance…. 

She reaches out and pats his hand as thank you. 

He observed her quietly, watching as he took a bit out of it and then continued eating it away. He didn’t want to stop her, so he stood there pretending to watch around so he wouldn’t make her feel uncomfortable.

Nobody wants to be stared when they were eating.

The touch was gentle, and he could straight away tell that it was a thankful now, which made im sigh in relief.

 Another nod, patience, patience, little else to do for a woman who only knew how to mother and fight, and  a lack of wars and a lack of children, proved that there was little else to do that could gather her interest anymore. 

So awkward. 

Holds hand out. 

“Affirmative. Captain Rogers spoke with me when I first arrived. The fact that he’d been here much longer greatly helped when I was unsure of how I was going to live here.”

Eyes look upwards, the sudden noise startling her internally as she looks to the source. 

Was he…. offering her something? Not unusual with the amount of men who had propositioned her lately due to her beauty, but she had declined out of habit. But than …

 “….”

A slow nod. 

Silence. He couldn’t exactly tell if that was because she didn’t understand or because of a different reason, but he opened the bag and took out the muffin.

“Ah, damn it...“, Tony muttered as he opened the paper bag after getting out of the local coffee shop, frowning at its content.

“National Donut Day? That’s a serious thing? …”

“Yep, I can have a lotta fun wit’ that…”

“Hmm… I wonder if there are any other fun holidays t’ play with…”

“Is that a giant SWORD?“, Tony mostly speaks to himself as he sweeps down to look at the individual who was sitting on a bench, still armoured with the faceplate on, covering his face.

★— EGGS retrieved – and gathered. Delivered around the city once they had returned, despite Steve’s protest – perhaps the scanning, particularly after falling into a DUMPSTER was a good call, but his stubborn nature would prevent him from admitting as much. 

***

      And over the course of Easter, they were delivered, but naturally – after having his heart strings played like a strum on a guitar – instead of an egg with a creamy centre as Tony had requested, there was an alternative Steve had hoped would work. 

      Now, if there was one thing about Steve Rogers it was that he DESPISED admitting that he was wrong, or that he was being stubborn without much of a need to be. And lately – after a LOT of thought and internal conflict – he had realised that maybe Tony had a point considering the team. 

      So HIS way of making up for it – Noticing the sleeping engineer sprawled across the sofa, head lulling back, mouth gaping open rather inelegantly. He had stepped into the living room, placing on the coffee table; a plate of two eggs, sausages, and bacon strips to form a smiley face. He’d seen it done before and — well, it was an apology disguised not to appear as one. At least this way Tony would get his eggs, they wouldn’t be cream filled but – close enough. 

The egg delivery was actually fun, and he did enjoyed having some time off with Steve after what he considered an eon, especially after their heated argument about the team. He didn’t end up getting the chocolate cream egg that he craved, but he easily forgot about it.

What he did appreciate that day was waking up from his nap (that he didn’t even remember taking, he last remembered watching a silly show on TV), to the smell of fine cooked breakfast, leaving little to imagination. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, bed hair in all its glory as he inspected the dish, looking around at the cook; Steve sitting and reading something on a tablet.