#cryoethics

(x) The sour expression contorts a little, pulls at the irritated lines, but his posture doesn’t shift too much. Instead he waits for Steve to take the files, offers him one last look before rolling his eyes and letting him go with a little wave. This is a problem for later, and as irritated as he is (was), it isn’t something he’s going to get into before Steve needs to be in court. He’ll have to be level headed, or as much as he can be, for that— and it’s something James understands. So instead he just lets it go, for the time being, and lets Steve go, too. That doesn’t mean he’s entirely forgiven, because it’s not exactly in James’ nature to let things go that easily. Nor is he in the mood to be subtle, curled up on Steve’s side of the bed (as if they hadn’t both been his side, at one point), in his pajamas and watching Netflix on his phone.

Despite the rough start, the rest of Steve's day goes off without a hitch. Still, he's exhausted when he finally gets in the door, the sun long since gone down. He'd swung by the office after his hearing under the guise of finishing up some busy work; in actuality, he'd been trying to avoid James a little longer. Apologies aren't his strong suit, but he's not daft enough to miss that it was wrong of him to snap at his assistant, no matter the stress he was under. It's time to eat crow.

Munday Meme

Wow, ask an easy one, would you? Ok, let’s give this a shot.

☮: five things I have in common with my muse

I’m a blondie

We both had our awkward younger years

We both love books

I know what it’s like to feel totally out of place (well, time, for Steve!)

We both think we’re just sooo funny aren’t we

✿: five things that are different about me from my muse

Not buff. At all.

No matter how I try, I cannot take up running as a “fun” hobby

I’m not as brave. Steve stands up for what he believes in, and I sometimes just avoid conflict, which I think isn’t like him at all

I haven’t lost as many people as he has (awww Steve ;_;)

We speak very differently (I swear like a sailor and say "like," “dude," and "bro” a lot)

What do you get for a man who can buy most anything for himself? James hadn’t been sure, at first, simply saving so he could get something nice. Something he felt didn’t come off as cheap or uninvested. Steve could buy most anything he wanted for himself, so Barnes came to reason he would buy him something that he wouldn’t get for himself. Nothing garish or anything he’d hate, but maybe something he wouldn’t invest the time or money into, which is how he finally decided (after a long period of googling) on a Montblanc. They were beautiful, elegant and more than that useful. Steve had to sign his name often, and sometimes it just felt like a damn celebration. It would suit him to have something really nice to do it with.  James wasn’t good at giving gifts, at showing affection without some sort of ulterior motive feigned in order to hide how vulnerable Steve made him feel sometimes. This time, however, he doesn’t run away or hide— not like he had with the tie clip— instead he just waits till the day has drawn to the end. Not wanting to disrupt his work flow or make Steve edgy with the idea of James fawning at him when they had a busy work day ahead.  It’s light, the clack of the box against the desk, a little tap at the edge, waiting till Steve’s finished with what he’s got on hand, James’ face already feeling uncomfortably warm before he nudges the edges of it with his fingertips and slides the thing over to him with an embarrassed little hum.  "Happy Valentines Day… Boss." 

Steve doesn’t remember the last time his hands shook. The day he got the acceptance letter to Harvard, they didn’t shake. The first time he ever walked into a courtroom, suit too starch-stiff and briefcase clutched in his sweaty palms, he held tall and met the judge’s eye, and his hands didn’t shake. The day they put his mother in the ground, they were as still and cold as she was. They almost did, the day Elaine told him she would never marry him, but he thinks that might just have been all the cognac racing through his blood. He’s stone-cold sober now.

His hands are shaking.

He can tell that James is nervous. He doesn’t think his own anxiety shows on his face, how afraid he is, how much of a crossroads this is for him in the war against his own denial. The tiny tremor giving him away is a white flag, the concession of a turning point in this thing they have— no longer a thing, a relationship— when he realizes any distance he promised he’d keep is nothing more than a lie he told himself.

The pen is elegant, clean lines and textures, simple color. It evinces an intimate knowledge of who Steve is, the kind of thing he would love but would never have chosen for himself. It tells the story of how long James must have saved up to afford such a thing, knowing as Steve does now the circumstances of his family situation. It’s not the most expensive gift he’s even gotten, but it unquestionably, undoubtedly the most personal.

Turning his eyes away is torture. The moment feels too fragile, the air itself brittle, but he doesn’t have words and he thinks he knows what actions will get the message across just as well. Opening the desk drawer beside him, he pulls out the only other pen that’s ever meant so much to him, the one he used to speak his intentions in silence when he drew it over James’ body, against his lips. Just a red pen, but so much more as a symbol of everything he’s clung to, to stay whole, to keep his distance, so much he can no longer abide. Dropping it in the trash bin next to his desk still feels like severing a limb. He still doesn’t know if it’s showing on his face, but he almost hopes because a part of him wants the man standing in front of him to feel the gravity of this moment just as deeply as he does.

ARE YOU TRYING TO BREAK MY GODDAMNED HEART?

Because let’s be honest, Steve would fit so beautifully and easily into domestic life. After everything he’s been through, I think he'd appreciate it more than the man he once was did. He’d take so, so well to just cooking and cleaning and doing fun, cute, everyday things and just getting to live this simple, quiet life for a little while… (I mean, lbr, until the world needed saving again.)

Oh wait, you said AU. Hmmm.

Well, in an AU verse, I would want Steve to be a daddy in a way he can't be in canon (imho). Maybe adopt some scrawny, dirty-covered sweet-face little street kid and take care of him all nice and sweet and ahhhh why did you have to ask this WHY.

Of course, some of my favorite domestic-AU thoughts are about our all work and no play verse. James and Steve just cuddling on the weekends, him teaching Steve how to actually cook, quietly cleaning the loft (in a maid outfit wait what who said that) while Steve furiously types up some briefs, just hanging out watching dumb movies on the couch and giggling about the people at work who are too much to handle.

WHY DID YOU HAVE TO ASK THIS WHY //rolls off to curl up and cry

Ok, it’s kind of not fair of you to ask this one LOL because I know we’ve discussed this and all I can see is demon!Bucky and priest!Steve, and Bucky being just enough of a brat to ask the village to take the priest with him as his yearly/once-a-decade/whatever tribute for the village’s safety, because he’s that much of a little brat.

If I had to imagine it differently? I guess demon!Steve in the more traditional role of, well— hell is for punishing bad people, right? So demon!Steve still doesn’t like bullies and Nazis and all that jazz, and he delights in giving them a taste of their own medicine, so to speak, when they land in his little corner of hell. I don’t know, that’s all I’ve got. Maybe throw one of our beloved villains on his rack and let him work his magic.

Ok, so lately, I've had Cop AU on the brain, and that may be influencing my answer, but... I could totally see Steve as the investigator tasked with hunting the serial killer down. Except not everything is as it seems, and there can be epic Hannibal-esque conversations between cop and killer.... ugh, I'm shuddering with excitement just imagining the possibilities.