Addict

   [ Nothing like wrapping up a day at the gym with… a glass of vodka. ]

❝  I MIGHT know a little about that – ❞ steve says with a laugh. there were few things in his life which he could honestly say have gone exactly according to plan. steve’s big plan – HIS DREAM – was to be a part of something bigger than himself, to play a part in the war, && serve his country. he only ever wanted to be a SOLDIER. but what he got went above && beyond anything he could have hoped for. 

he enjoys being CAPTAIN AMERICA. but it is a duty which he bears as a burden. he understands what it means to be a symbol, to sacrifice aspects of his humanity to be something bigger && better for the people to rally behind. he still struggles with it ( more now than ever before ) because though he understands what it takes, he’s beginning to understand more && more what he’s lost. 

he will never just be STEVE ROGERS again. 

steve doubts that t.j. was ever just anything. so it seems, from day one he was marked as something, that from day one he was never really given a chance to be himself fully with the world looming over his shoulder. steve can see his sadness, hear it in every words he speaks. steve knows a thing or two about LONELINESS – about feeling like even though everywhere you turn people know your name, no one really bothers to give you the time of day. 

his shoulders shrug as he limply stuffs his hands into his coat pockets. the estate is beautiful but he can’t imagine how anyone would ever be able to really call it HOME. so he smiles at t.j. as his squared stance drops into something casual. 

❝  ——- but hey, at least the FOOD is good, right?  ❞

        THE RESPONSE startles another laugh out of him, rich and genuine, and he’s grateful for the change of topic. Steve had noticed the way his sentences had begun to drop off at the ends as he prepared for the usual onslaught, and diverted the conversation. It’s considerate in a way TJ doesn’t see often. Usually, when he leaves a thread dangling-- when he shares-- people have a way of tugging, prying into his life. 

        When you’ve been a public figure your whole life, people gather up all the bits of you scattered along the way. They take a fistful of facts and try to paint the whole picture with it. Pieces get left out--important ones-- but if it makes sense to them, that’s all that matters.

        As he lets the smile on his face slow from a blaze to a warm ember, he looks over at Steve and wonders how many of his pieces have been left behind. There’s a marked difference in the way he’s standing now--almost expanded, like he’d let out a breath. It feels nice, like he’s not part of what has been making Steve tense. Like he’s welcome to step outside the frenzy of layered promises and delicate phrasing with him and settle fully on his feet.

       ❛ Only the best for future constituents. Why, you wanna take some home? I can manage it; Nana and I always snag the leftovers. ❜

        ℋ  - Hey !! Remember me? I finally feel settled enough to bring back TJ fully. It’s been so hard to not write him-- he’s probably the dearest to my heart, of all my muses. I’m always inspired to write him. To celebrate my triumphant return -------- 

c: now that i have your attention, have a wonderful day.

he does know something about it. being the center of attention was never a role steve took on easily. before the war, it wasn’t much of a concern. the only times he got attention was when he demanded it with his voice loud && fists raised high ( and even then, he was often ignored. ) 

during the tour, he was forced to play a role for the war office. he did so because he believed it was the only thing left he had to do to help with the war effort – but that doesn’t mean his dignity didn’t take a hit or two. 

and during the war && after, steve still has to play that role. the only difference is, he’s no longer wearing tights or tiny shorts. just about everything is the same, or worse. people expect him to be a mechanism in their agenda when he’s much more comfortable leaving politics to the politicians. 

of course, he has his opinions. but he also knows the impact captain america can make && wants to avoid using what should be a symbol for everyone, for a small few. 

he likes barrish && the rest of the hammond family. they say the things he would love to say if not for the flag on his chest. 

❝  — it’s okay,   ❞  he assures him as they walk along the path,  ❝  you’re probably right. though, i have a friend back in new york who would probably argue that it’s better to play ball with them. at least, then you’re part of the game.  ❞

but steve doesn’t take tony’s advice too often. 

❝  i guess, it’s not as easy when it’s been your entire life.  ❞

        ❛ i think most people start out thinking that way ❜ his well-shined shoe kicks up a spray of rocks as he drags his foot a little. ideals are one of the first things to be ground away in the world of politics. the beast of compromise rears its head and snaps away at it until neither side is satisfied but everyone still shakes hands. 

sometimes it worked that way in his own house, in arguments with dougie his parents moderated, in trying to convince his mom to let him go to cancun back when he was nineteen and eager to be stupid.

        ❛ things just sort of... have a habit of never going the way you plan. ❜ his shoulders lift and drop quickly, nonchalantly summing up his entire life. though, truth be told tj never really had a plan for his life. that was doug with the big dreams, that was his mother and father trying desperately to find him a place to fit all of his wrong angles and become--- what? respectable, maybe. normal. 

he’d like to be... happy. that’s as far as the daydreams go, now. some vague warmth, like sunshine on your face after a nap. some general feeling of contentment that wraps around him. but how do you chase an emotion?

        ❛ you mean... with the politics and campaigns and media. ❜ the corners of his mouth tick downwards, head inclining slightly to the side. ❛ i mean, it’s not the only measure of normal i’ve got, you know. before dad got elected, i grew up on family land. lots of trees, sorta like this. it’s an upper-middle class normal, but hey, it’s better than... ❜ he makes an expansive gesture with one hand to indicate himself and this whole dance of networking and galas and smiling for cameras.

               ❝ THANKS. && NOTED. ❞

His eyes drift shut, wrinkling with a sudden tension that settles at either temple. Clint tears open the bag without looking, stuffing a saltine into one side of his mouth unceremoniously. 

               ❝ This is what I get for playing a                drinking game with a Russian. ❞

What did he expect though, really?